Rolling my eyes, I kick back in the chair. "Louise."
"Talking about Louise?" Amie asks, sitting down beside me.
Amie is my cousin, sister of one of the little threesome.
"Savannah was curious," I mutter.
She nudges me.
Amie reaches across and shakes Savannah's hand. "I'm Amie, Kent's cousin. It's nice to meet you."
"You, too, Amie," Savannah replies. "We weren't gossiping. It was just a surprise."
Amie laughs. "Don't worry; I've asked all the questions you've probably thought of and more. I don't know how Tom can share, but he does."
Savannah sits frozen, like her mind can't comprehend the situation. Or she just has too many questions whizzing around in there.
Before she can ask anything though, Freddy and his best man--his idiot brother, Bobby--walk down the aisle, saying hello to the guests.
Bobby heads along our row, and I brace myself.
If he hits on Savannah ...
"Hey, guys. Glad you could make it, Savannah."
"Hi, Bobby. How's it going?" she replies.
"It's going good. You look incredible."
He doesn't wait for a reply. With a wink, he wanders off to the front to stand with Freddy.
I bet I end up punching him at some point.
23
Savannah
The rest of the wedding guests find their seats, and then we're asked to stand. I rise to my feet, feeling a bubble of excitement as I prepare to see Brooke in her dress. Not that I haven't seen her before, but this time, it's for real.
She's about to get married.
At one point in my life, I was so sure I would marry Simon. If he weren't a colossal wanker, we might be married now ... and I would never have met Kent. I shudder at the thought. As much as Simon and my family gutted me back then, I wouldn't change it.
What I have now is so much better.
Simon has stayed true to his word and not contacted me. At first, I jumped every time my phone rang in front of Kent but not anymore. Now, I can enjoy my life the way it is right now--perfect.
I twist my body as music starts to play, signalling Brooke's entrance. God, I'm so excited for her. We've gotten quite close. I don't see her all that much, but we text a lot.
Kent takes my hand, watching for his sister, too. That simple action holds so many promises. We're together, in this for the long haul, and maybe, one day, we'll be here, Kent waiting for me at the end of the aisle. The image seems too flawless to imagine, like, if I let myself even think about it, I'll jinx everything.
Seven weeks with him, and I'm mentally planning our wedding.
Call me obsessed.
His hand tightens around mine as Brooke comes into view. She looks stunning. Stretching onto my toes to get a better look, I tug Kent's hand. I love weddings, and I love Kent's family, so this one is going to be amazing; I can feel it.
He looks over at me and cocks his eyebrow, amused by my excitement.
The wedding registrar instructs us to take our seats. Kent doesn't let go of my hand through the entire ceremony.
Once Brooke and Freddy are married and walking down the aisle, hand in hand, we start to filter out. There are drinks outside in the gardens while the photographer captures their day.
"That was beautiful," I say, blotting the damp skin under my eyes. My heart is racing for them.
"Really?" he asks. "I thought it went on a bit."
I nudge his arm with mine, my hand still tucked in his. "You're so grumpy."
"It takes three minutes to read vows, exchange rings, and sign a piece of paper. How they drag it out over twenty is astonishing."
He's a little ray of sunshine.
"Want a drink?" he asks, steering the conversation to safer grounds.
"Oh, I do now."
"Ugh," he says, turning his nose. "I think it's all fizzy wine shit."
"Prosecco or champagne?"
"I dunno, but it all tastes like piss."
"You know what piss tastes like?"
"No, but I know I don't want to drink it. Same goes for that stuff," he says, nodding to the table packed with champagne flutes.
I pick one up. "Well, I like it."
"Keep drinking, babe. You're hilarious when you're drunk, and I still owe you a puking session, remember? I still can't believe you've never drunk so much you were sick."
"Yeah, not too sure I want to do that in front of your family."
"Why not? They're all going to be shit-faced later anyway. At my mum and dad's wedding anniversary, my nan got so drunk, she threw up in a bowl of punch and then did the Harlem Shake."
My mouth drops. "She did not."
"I have a video."
Kent's family is weird.
"Nope, don't look at me like that," he says, circling my body with his arms. "You're stuck with me now. There's no getting out."
"Your nan dances to hip-hop, and your cousins share."
"Tip of the iceberg, baby."
I don't think I want to know.
"There anything weird about you?" I ask and take a long sip.
His smirk grows. "I'm not telling you."
Great, something to look forward to.
"If I ever walk into the room to see you parading around in my underwear ..."
Kent laughs and presses a kiss to my forehead. My heart soars. I love it when he does that.
I look up at him through my lashes and smile. "If I get really drunk, are you going to stop me from doing things to you?"
He narrows his eyes. "You test me, woman."
Kent will not touch me if I'm drunk--it's his one thing--but if he were to be just as off his face ...
"Wait, what if we're both drunk?"
His eyebrows knit together. "What do you mean?"
"Have you never had drunken sex?"
"No. Have you?" he asks the question, but the hesitation in his voice doesn't convince me that he wants to know the answer.
"Yeah. He wasn't very good ... but you are"--I lean closer, so my chest is flush with his--"very. Good."
His eyes are saucers, and his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. "Drink up, babe. I'll go to the bar."
I watch him leave ... so I can stare at his arse obviously. It's a very nice arse. He reaches the bar and stands next to one of his super-generous cousins who shares a girlfriend.
The idea of Kent touching another woman makes me feel a bit stabby. I definitely couldn't do it, but they seem to do it just fine. It can't be fine though, right? All three of them must have moments when it royally sucks. Her less so than them.
I want to grab the girlfriend and fire thousands of questions. I'm so curious to find out about their lives together, but that's probably not going to make Kent's family like me.
"I can see your mind working overtime," Heidi says, handing me another glass of Prosecco.
"Thanks," I reply, taking the glass in my other hand. I have two drinks.
"Kent told you about our cousins then?"
"What makes you say that?" I ask from behind the almost empty champagne flute, looking up at her with the aim to appear innocent. I'm not usually a gossip. The subject has to be really good to pull me in, and this, holy hell, is really good.
She laughs. "You keep looking between them."
Shit, I do?
My eyes widen, and that only makes Heidi laugh even more.
"Hon, you have got to stare more casually."
Is that even possible?
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude."
"You're not being rude. Get Kent to introduce you to them. They're all very open about the whole thing."
"Well, clearly!"
"No, I didn't just mean with each other." Shaking her head, she laughs at me some more. "They don't mind talking about it and answering questions. Actually, I think she kind of likes it."
"I'm willing to put my entire savings on that. What do you think she would do if one of them wanted to add another woman to the mix?"
&
nbsp; Heidi shrugs. "They've all said, no one else."
"Do you think they will all move in together?"
Way to not be a gossip, Savannah.
"Probably. I don't really know."
Kent turns from the bar and walks over to us with two drinks in hand. He looks at the new Prosecco in my hand. I put my old glass on the table. "Glad to see you're getting a head start."
I shrug. "Just trying to keep up my end of the deal."
"I don't even want to know," Heidi says.
She saunters off toward one of Freddy's ushers. She's on the prowl. Good for her.
"I hope we eat soon. I'm starving," he grumbles, taking a long sip of his beer.
"Kent Lawson!" his nan shouts from across the room.
I haven't met her yet, but I recognise her from photos at Kent's parents' house.
Kent looks over and groans. "Here we go."
"Here we go, what? What's wrong with your nan?"
"Nothing, but I failed to mention you to her on the phone."
"Charming," I reply.
He rolls his eyes. "Don't you start. This was just after we got together." When he turns to greet her, his back straightens. "Don't be difficult, Nan."
Her mouth lifts at the side. "I'm as easy as they come. Your granddad loves that about me."
"What the fuck, Nan?"
I almost fucking choke. Plastering my lips together, I cough, Prosecco sloshing around inside my mouth. Oh God, don't laugh. I press my free hand to my chest, not giving a single shit that my wrist aches in response. Even though I've had the splint off for a little while now, it still aches sometimes.
Air fills my lungs as I take the deepest, most careful breath I have ever taken and swallow the mouthful. I put my drink down, step in tow with Kent, and smile. "Hi, I'm Savannah," I rasp, still trying not to choke.
Her eyes snap to me, and I feel her judging me, trying to work out if she thinks I'm worthy of her grandson. It's an agonising few seconds of waiting to see if I fall short or not.
Finally, she smiles. "It's lovely to meet you. Call me Nan, okay? We've been waiting for you since that slag fucked him over, and he started sleeping with everything that breathes."
What?
I don't even know what to say.
There aren't many times in my life where I have been completely, utterly speechless, but hearing Kent's sweet-looking nan swearing like a trooper, particularly using the word slag, has left me with nothing. Nada.
"Okay," I eventually manage to mutter.
"Nan, will you act normal?" Kent growls. He looks at me. "We think she's a bit senile."
"The only good thing about getting old is being able to speak your mind with no repercussion. I'm not senile."
I kind of love her. "I can't wait until I'm older," I say.
Wow, Kent's nan is so much cooler than me. I know I have a life and actually leave my flat now, but I'm nowhere near saying the things she does in public.
"See, Kent, Savannah doesn't think I'm senile. How old are you, love?"
"Twenty-two."
"Practically still a baby. Kent is pushing thirty soon."
"I don't think twenty-five is pushing thirty, Nan."
Kent will be twenty-six in November, almost a month to the day after my birthday. Not exactly thirty.
"It's a slippery slope." She takes a quick swig of whatever clear liquid is in her tumbler glass. Something tells me it's not water. "You two come and find me later. I'm off to get your granddad to buy me another one."
Without another word or letting anyone else speak, she walks away with purpose.
Kent turns his head. "So, that was my nan."
I grin up at him. "She's amazing."
"She is. Fucking embarrassing sometimes though. Hey, look, they're calling us through for photos."
I watch from a short distance while photos are being taken, even being pulled in for a couple of them. When they're over, dinner is announced.
Kent nods his head and leads me off toward whatever room we're eating in.
He puts his hand on the small of my back and leads me into the room filled with beautifully laid tables and stunning flower arrangements. There are four bottles of wine on each table.
Kent smirks at me.
We're getting shit-faced tonight.
24
Kent
So, I'll admit, weddings aren't that bad. I used to dread them unless there was some hottie in the evening I could take back to the hotel room. Now, I've had a hottie all day, and I definitely can't wait to get her back to our hotel room.
My parents are drunk, my nan is wasted, and Heidi is chatting to one of Freddy's friends at the bar. Somewhere, probably in hotel rooms, are Max and Toby. I think they both said about three words to us before heading off to chat women up. I'll give it to Brooke and Freddy; they know some beautiful women, all of whom pale in comparison to Savannah.
She's tipsy, too. Leaning against me, giggling at my nan dancing with my granddad. They're a disgrace, gyrating on the dance floor, but I can't help but laugh, too.
"I want to spend every day with your grandparents," she says, speaking slower than usual, as the effects of all the Prosecco have started to hit.
"No," I reply, lifting my eyebrow as she pouts. "Come and dance with me ... not like my grandparents though."
Her smile hits me right in the gut, stealing my breath. How was there ever a time when I didn't like her?
"You're going to slow dance with me, so you can press your body up against mine?" Her eyes turn to thunder.
"That's the plan, babe."
"Well, okay then. I like this song. Come on."
"Sex on Fire" by Kings of Leon is playing, and never before has there been a more perfect song for her. She turns around and takes my hand. We walk, not in a straight line because she's past that, to the dance floor.
I swing her around and pull her body flush with mine. Her dark grey dress matches her eyes right now as she stares up at me with a heated look that makes my dick swell.
Bending my head, I whisper, "I'll never get enough of you."
With a drunken smile, she replies, "Good. I never want this feeling to end."
Fuck me.
I tangle my hand in her hair and suck in a breath. What the hell is she doing to me?
Savannah stares into my eyes, lips parted and body pushing against mine like she can't get close enough.
My heart goes into overdrive, and I can't breathe.
Fuck, I am so in love with you.
"Savannah," I whisper. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I don't want to tell her for the first time here, not when we're surrounded by people and she's drunk. So, I kiss her.
She responds instantly, parting her lips and sliding her tongue against mine. My hand grips her hair. The alcohol has done wonders for her inhibitions, but I've not quite had enough to let things go too far in front of my whole family.
"Babe, we're in public," I say as I remove my mouth from hers.
Biting her lip, she shrugs one shoulder.
"Oh, you want to put on a show?"
"No, not really. I don't want anyone seeing you come when you're inside me; that's just for me."
"Keep talking like that, and you might not have a choice," I reply, pressing my erection into her stomach.
"I think we should leave."
Hell yeah!
"Sold."
I lead her toward the door, but before we make it out, Max steps in front of us. "Going somewhere?"
"Yep," I reply.
"No, you can't. The girl ditched me, and I need a drink."
"How's that our problem?"
Savannah nudges me for being insensitive. Still don't see why I need to be involved in his drinking.
"What did you do to her?" Savannah asks him.
"Nothing. I was giving her my best lines, and she excused herself and walked off." He shakes his head, like he can't believe this happened.
Savannah reaches out and touches his arm. "She j
ust doesn't want to sleep with you."
"No, that's not it," Max replies.
Sighing, she drops her arm and nods toward the bar. "Come on then. Let's get you drunk, too."
Max throws his arm around Savannah's shoulders as they walk to the bar. He looks back and smirks, but it really doesn't bother me. There is no way either of them would do the dirty on me. In fact, I love that she gets along with my friends. As much as I want to punch Max and Toby, which is often, I love them like brothers.
If his hand reaches around her front though, I'm going to break his arm.
Max and Savannah find two stools at the bar. She waits for me. I get on, and she perches on my lap. Max orders two double whiskeys each for us and three glasses of Prosecco for Savannah.
"Really, man?" I say.
"Hey, she wants to get drunk."
Her eyes widen at him. "I'm going to have to pee, like, a thousand times."
"Suck it up and drink," he responds.
She picks up the first glass that was put down and takes a sip.
"You did want to get properly drunk tonight, babe."
Turning her head, she looks at me over her shoulder. "Yes, I did."
I pull her a bit closer when she goes back to her drink. The smell of her hair is maddening, not to mention the fact that she's sitting on my lap.
"You two make me sick," Max mumbles, making me and Savannah laugh.
"You know, if you stop looking for a shag, you might find someone you're crazy about, too."
Her words make me groan. I so badly want to tell her that I love her.
Max turns his nose up. "Nah, not yet."
"We're going to end up having to adopt him, aren't we?" she says, shaking her head.
"I think so."
"Hey! I'm right here!"
"Yeah, annoying, isn't it?" I reply. "You fuckers do the same to me all the time."
"I really like this," Savannah says to no one in particular, holding up her now-empty glass. She puts it down so carefully, as if it were a bomb, and picks the second glass up.
Max laughs, tipping his head back. "She's so puking tonight."
"I do owe her one. She's never been sick from drinking before."
"How is that possible?"
I shrug while Savannah works on another Prosecco.
We stay talking with Max right until he sees another woman walk past, who is just his type--alive.
"Later, fuckers," he calls, leaping off the stool and following her.
Savannah slips off my lap and turns around. She has finished the three glasses and now has another one that I ordered for her. I'm not sure at what point I'm going to have to cut her off, but I think it's soon.
She stumbles to the side and frowns.
Lie to Me Page 18
