The Vows We Fake

I said

he knob. "Mr. Black

u

throat tightened. Why? I wanted to ask. Why

, "Chrysanthemums?

of them." He turned to face me. His voice w

Not a

gic to chry

hing

y throat tight

"Because you're the best. Isn't

r. "I hope this venue

do

ve years ago, he told me that this wa

, then said, "We start walkthro

walked out, the door cl

y minutes just to catch my breath. W

me in shock, "you didn't tell me

in. If I had known earlier... I

ded like be do

ll to swallow. I

re true? That he had memor

making my face to be a p

dly. "You haven't hea

p with my exes," I repl

Zane. He was on his way to work when the driver of his vehicle lost control of the brakes and slammed i

nd damage control from the truck driver's family. Most people saw Zane as a victim of circumstances, so they laid him off, but the accident definitely had a toll on him. Media tabloids and arti

Leah, I don't kno

sympathy brimming in h

-hm

sign the

ely n

repeated, reaching o

m f

n't loo

"I'm just trying t

ded. "I'll get started with the layout updates. D

pered. An ache was creeping behind my ribs and aimin

death, and the painstaking process of rebuilding my business from scratch. Her father was my father's assistant,

were best of friends during university, and it's hard to believe that someone who was like

that night; what else did I have to lose? Now, however, watching the guy I loved plan his wedding w

med to not

as to be the w

my l

a nightmare I can't fully get over. I nodded when I was supposed to, smiled when

better than to climb a ladder in heels. But deadlines didn't care about practicality,

ist my ankle on the way down. One sharp gasp, a muted curse, and boom-

muttered, try

w fell

damn ladder," came Zane's voice, dee

wasn't a ladder. It was a step s

ed up to his forearms, that smug mouth twit

won

sho

r limp for

," he murmured, alread

said sharply, tr

tly, firmly, around my a

tingale with a six-pack," I sho

ff. I sucked in a breath as his fingers brushed my skin, unreas

ice. And e

stop acting l

don't care," he said too evenly. "I'm just not interested in dragg

gh my ankle throbbed

be. When I'm not babysitting wome

p st

ll d

with my good leg.

were in his lap, his hand gripping one ankle, the

self," I whispered,

ropped. "You're already

eeks

re. It was the way his hands lingered. The way his thumb grazed the inside of

said, vo

e up before I could argue. "Not even close," he said, his