A part of me, a part I didn’t know existed, is desperate to pull him closer, run my fingers through his thick, silky hair, recapture his lips with mine. But he pulls back.
Before I can register what the hell just happened, he’s lapping up praise from the party guests. He shouts something to my mom that I can’t hear over my ringing ears.
And then he leans in and says, “Nice show, huh?”
Whoop, there it is. None of what just happened was real. It was all for show. The speech. The kiss. Because of course it was.
Renner deserves an Oscar for that performance.
For the rest of the night, our guests ogle us like we’re some famous penguin couple in a zoo. Renner’s speech fooled everyone.
Since our kiss, there’s a heightened awareness between us. It’s like whenever Clay enters the classroom and my heart cartwheels. I get a little clammy, my hands clench in my lap, and I can’t help but wonder if everyone notices how freakin’ weird I’m acting.
Not that I have a crush, by any means, but Renner is in my peripheral vision no matter where I go in Ollie’s backyard. Maybe I’m just being paranoid, but I keep catching his eyes lingering on me too. When I’m not being awkward, stuffing my face with Tostitos and heaping buffalo chicken dip, I master the art of evasion. I deflect difficult questions like, Are you excited for the wedding? Do you think you’ll cry when you walk down the aisle? It’s easy enough, so long as I remain vague and avoid the temptation to tell everyone it’s canceled. And after seeing the joy on my mom’s face, we’ll need to think of a gentle way to drop that bomb.
Unfortunately, Renner is making me look like a total nitwit. I overhear him telling everyone about our elaborate five-hundred-guest wedding. He includes oddly specific tidbits, claiming Pizza Hut is catering the affair, that we’re having a chocolate fondue fountain, a rose archway, a ten-piece live band, a skating rink, fireworks, Cirque du Soleil acrobats, and exotic animals casually moseying around the premises. I’ve seen enough reality TV to know that most of the time, husbands remain aloof and uninterested in wedding planning. Renner is not one of those men.
I corner him near the hot tub. “Why do you keep telling everyone we’re having an elaborate wedding?” I whisper, glancing over my shoulder to ensure no one is eavesdropping. According to Nori, we have a strict budget for our 150-person wedding at a resort near Fairfax, near Dad and Alexandra’s lake house.
He shrugs, leaning his weight against the hot tub. “Why not? Go big or go home.”
“We aren’t getting married, first of all. And even if we were, which we aren’t, I’m not blowing my life savings on one day.”
“The most special day of your life,” he corrects.
“Nope. If anything, we should have chosen to elope.”
He covers his mouth like I’ve confessed to murder. “Eloping isn’t my style.”
“This is so typical. Tossing out my ideas without consideration. What’s so wrong with a small, intimate wedding? It’s romantic. Not that we’re aiming for romance here, but—”
He furrows his brow. “You’re saying you don’t want to be surrounded by friends and family on your big day?”
“I mean, a handful. Not the entire town.” I don’t know why I’m even arguing. Of course Renner would be foaming at the prospect of a day all about him. He wouldn’t give up that opportunity.
He tips his head to the side. “Why are you trying to convince me to elope when you just said we’re canceling?”
I blink, coming to my senses. “Right. We aren’t actually getting married. We’re getting out of here. Tonight,” I remind him. But he doesn’t hear me. He’s distracted by a new arrival, his mom.
He was right when he said there was something different about her, aside from being more than a decade older. I’ve only seen Renner’s mom a handful of times. She was always naturally stunning, but a little worn with dark circles under her eyes, like a woman weighed down by life.
That isn’t the woman I see today. Her face has filled out, her skin practically glows, and she radiates joy, from her eyes to her smile.
A slightly balding man in a polo shirt with a lumberjack frame follows close behind her. It’s only when the crowd parts that I see they’re holding hands. Renner’s mom is holding hands with . . . a man who isn’t his dad.
Renner looks like he’s seen a ghost, eyes darting from them to his dad at the other end of the yard, who waves casually as they enter. I can tell from Renner’s expression that he didn’t know about this new guy.