Her throat works, and I can see the pulse throbbing on the side of her neck.
So she isn’t immune to me. I can—
“We should elope. Tomorrow. I can make all the arrangements.” She looks at me, then drops her gaze, mock-shy. “And you know, I always dreamed of a Vegas wedding.”
“And I always dreamed of a sauerkraut wedding cake.”
That elicits a low chuckle from her.
“What brought that on?” I ask.
“I just want to make my preferences known before you do anything else,” she says. “You didn’t warn me before you went ahead with the ring and proposal.”
“It’s called a surprise.” I put a finger under her chin and turn her head so she looks me in the eyes. “I want a ridiculously big wedding with all the trappings. The kind of wedding that will make every other woman in the world green with envy.”
She sobers. “Do you really want to spend that kind of money on a fake marriage?”
“I want it to look as real as possible until it’s over. And an elopement wouldn’t look real.”
“Didn’t your cousin elope?”
Wh—? Oh that’s right. Vanessa. “Yeah, but I heard she was trying to keep things quiet. We aren’t.”
Lines bracket her mouth, and worry darkens her eyes. Maybe it’s the money. Traditionally the bride’s father pays, but for fuck’s sake, I’m not having her—or her family—pay for a Hollywood wedding.
“I’ll pay for everything. And I’m getting an army of planners to handle every detail.” I smile. That ought to reassure her. “All you have to do is show up and look pretty.”
Chapter Fourteen
Paige
Just show up and look pretty.
It’s so easy, so tempting to believe.
“Paige.” Ryder reaches for my hand. “I promise, you won’t have anything to worry about while we’re together. I would never do anything to diminish you. Everyone will know you’re treasured above everyone—everything—else as my wife.”
His reassurance only makes me feel worse, and I can’t articulate why. He’s saying all the right things, the words I always dreamed of somebody saying to me. But they feel hollow and insubstantial. Maybe it’s because I know they’re all based on gratitude and him trying to be nice…nothing more.
Right now every sweet word feels like a piece of broken glass digging into my flesh. Nobody’s ever said those things to me when they really meant them, when they felt something genuine and lasting for me.
Stop overthinking and focus on what you need to do.
My head’s been a mess ever since the kiss, and I haven’t been able to process everything, not while I was in the same car with him, not while my panties are still wet.
I dig through my purse for my keys. The press got their little thrill. It’s time I get some space.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“I should go home.”
“How?”
I pause to give him a look. Is this a trick question? “Through the back gate? Just, you know…in reverse?”
“Okay, but do you have a secret entrance to your apartment? I guarantee there’ll be reporters at your place as well.”
There will? “How would they know where I live?”