Outrageously in Love by Jen Morris

7

“I’m beginning to wonder if you’ve made Michael up,” I say, watching as Alex takes the casserole dish out of the oven and sets it on the counter with a flourish.

She laughs. “I swear, he’s real. He had meetings yesterday and today, but he’ll be here tonight, I promise.”

I smile, leaning against the fridge. I notice a list of wedding to-dos stuck under a magnet, and pull it off to inspect more closely. Alex still has to organize a seating plan, create place cards, get her ring sized, make wedding favors, and more. It’s a lot to get done in just over two weeks, especially if she has to write, too.

“So as your maid of honor,” I say, holding up the list, “is there anything I can do to help with the wedding?”

“Well, you’ve already got Mum off my back.”

I called Mum after finalizing my flight and told her I was coming over to meet Michael and check up on Alex. I’m pleased that seems to have calmed her down—for now, at least.

“But there are probably some other things you could help with,” Alex adds. “I’ve been feeling a bit overwhelmed with everything that still needs to get done.”

“I’m happy to help. Tell me which tasks to do, and I’ll take care of them.” I stick the list back to the fridge and she smiles, clearly relieved.

“Thanks. We have a dress fitting tomorrow, then I’ll see what you can do after that.” She hands me some plates and I carry them over to the table, setting them out. I’m momentarily transported back to our dinner table as kids, laying the plates out while Mum fussed in the kitchen. Except in that version, Alex wasn’t at the stove. In fact…

“When did you start cooking?”

“What? I’ve always been able to cook.”

I snort. “I don’t think you can call microwaving a frozen pizza ‘cooking’. This is a proper meal. You used a recipe and everything.”

She chuckles. “Yeah, I figured I should step my game up when I moved in here. Michael’s a good cook, but he can’t cook all the time. And if I’m cooking it’s for both him and Henry.” Her smile wobbles and her gaze slides from mine. “And now that I’m marrying Michael, I’ll officially be the stepmother of an eleven year old boy.”

“Are you okay with that?” I don’t know if I could do it; sometimes I still feel like an eleven year old myself. Should be getting my Hogwarts letter any day now.

Alex fixes her smile back in place. “Yes. I love Michael so much. He’s an amazing guy—I actually can’t believe I’ve found someone like him. And Henry is such a sweet kid. He’s been so welcoming and lovely and I can honestly say I love him too.”

This makes me smile, because I know she means every word. She’s always been the mushy kind. But I can also sense that there’s something she’s worried about, so I just keep setting the table quietly, waiting in case she wants to say more.

She gives a weighted sigh. “It’s just, sometimes I worry—”

There’s a sound at the door and she stops, turning to me with a grin. My stomach quivers and I smooth my new dress down. I’m kind of nervous to meet this guy. He will be my brother-in-law, after all. I hope he’s good enough for my sister.

The door closes and a tall man with broad shoulders, dark hair, and a short beard enters the kitchen. He pulls Alex close, kissing her on the lips. It’s such a sweet and intimate gesture that I immediately feel weird and busy myself with the table-setting again, pretending I didn’t notice him come in. Which is absurd, because of course I did. He’s very tall, and I can see why Alex fell for him—he’s gorgeous.

What is it with these American men? Why don’t we have them like this at home?

He turns to me, extending a hand to introduce himself, and I feel a flicker of recognition. There’s something about him that’s familiar, somehow.

“You must be Harriet. I’m Michael,” he says in a deep accent, his mouth curving into a smile. “It’s so nice to meet you, finally.”

I smile back, trying to hide my confusion. I know I’ve never met him before, and I’ve only seen a handful of photos, but for some reason it feels like I know him already. I shake my head to clear the odd sensation. “Yes, you too! Thanks for letting me stay with you.”

“Of course.” He reaches a long, muscular arm up to grab a bottle of red wine from a shelf and opens it. “Sorry I haven’t been around the past couple days. I had to prepare a pitch for my new book and I’ve been super busy, especially with the wedding coming up.” He pours a few glasses and hands one to me.

Alex places a dish of green beans on the table and takes a glass from Michael’s outstretched hand. She leans her head against him as he slips an arm around her. There’s a bit of an age-difference between them—I think about eleven years—but I have to admit: they are adorable.

“How was your flight over?” Michael asks, taking a sip of wine.

Alex’s eyes light with glee. “I think it was very good, wasn’t it, Harriet?”

Heat rises to my cheeks and I shoot her a look of horror.

But her mouth hooks into a wide grin as she turns to Michael. “You won’t believe what Harri did on the plane,” she says, barely able to contain herself.

Oh God. It was one thing to tell Geoff and Cat, but what will Michael think of me?

Sweat springs to my brow and I raise a hand to my burning cheek. Michael gazes at me, his face a combination of amusement and curiosity. I’m just contemplating fleeing the room when there’s a knock at the door and it creaks open.

“Hello?”

“In here,” Michael calls. He turns back to me and Alex, waiting to hear the rest of the story. But I’m focused on the table again, straightening the knives and forks and avoiding his gaze, praying Alex doesn’t say any more.

I hear someone else enter the room and Michael speaks again. “Harriet, this is my brother.”

I glance up to see a tall, dark-haired man in the kitchen. His jaw is lined with dark stubble, his eyes are a deep brown, and I get a whiff of spicy, woody cologne. His gaze hitches on mine and it takes my brain a second to process who’s standing in front of me.

My heart stops.

I watch as his face contorts in confusion, then realization, then dismay. “Luke Hawkins,” he says awkwardly, extending his hand.

I blink, frozen to the spot, trying to piece everything together.

Why is he here? He can’t be…

“Luke is also Michael’s best man,” Alex adds.

No. Please, no.

I extend a limp hand and he shakes it while I stand there, mute with shock. His eyes are carefully trained on me and, straight away, I can tell the way he wants me to play this.

I swallow hard, making my face as expressionless as possible. “Hello, I’m Harriet. It’s so very nice to meet you.” My tone is overly-formal and I cringe.

This is… I can’t. This is too much.

“Will you please excuse me?” I say stiffly, trying to ignore the way my stomach has plummeted off a cliff. “I just need to go to the bathroom.” I turn and dash up the hall, locking the bathroom door behind me with trembling hands.

What the fuck is happening right now?

Perching on the edge of the bathtub, I force myself to slow my breath, but my heart continues to rattle against my ribcage, my thoughts in free fall.

How is this even possible? How did I not realize…

I shake my head. This cannot be happening. I’m having some kind of jet-lag-induced hallucination, surely.

I spring to my feet, a ball of anxious energy, unable to sit still. Wringing my hands, I make myself take another deep breath.

I have to calm down.

But I can’t.

Because I just realized I had sex with my sister’s fiance’s brother.

The best man.

Holy fuck, this is bad.

And—God, I’m ashamed to admit this—but that isn’t even what’s striking me as the worst thing about this situation. What’s really bothering me right now, if I’m being honest, is that he didn’t seem pleased to see me.

I shake my head again, unable to even believe myself.

Who cares about that?!

But I can’t help it. I turn to the mirror and survey my reflection, relieved to see that at least I don’t look like garbage. In fact, with my dark red lips, my hair half-up and half-down, and my cute new dress, I look quite pretty.

So ha, Luke. Joke’s on you. Look at what you’re missing out on.

Oh God. I need to get a grip. This is bad. This is really bad.

My pulse begins to climb again and I clutch the edge of the sink, aware that I need to remain in control. I cannot have a panic attack right now.

Sliding my glasses off, I lean over and splash cold water on my face. It jolts me out of my head and back into my body. I count to ten while inhaling and exhaling, then I do it again.

Okay. Okay, maybe this isn’t so bad. In fact, maybe it’s kind of funny.

I mean, not right now. Right now it’s mortifying. But after the wedding, when I’m back home and the whole thing is behind us, we can all have a good laugh at the crazy coincidence. And hopefully, after tonight, I won’t even have to see him again until the wedding day. I just have to get through tonight.

Yes. Everything will be fine.

I smooth my hair down and check my makeup, pushing my glasses back up my nose. With another deep breath, I open the bathroom door. Luke is hovering in the hallway and my heart catapults into my throat when I see him.

No. This will not be fine!

He glances over his shoulder then nudges me down the hall, into the shadows.

Jesus. Does he think we are going for round two or something? Not that I wouldn’t consider it, because it’s all I’ve been thinking about since the plane, but… here? Now?

I trail my eyes over his knitted sweater and jeans. He looks so different out of his shirt and tie—even better, if that’s possible. My gaze catches on his lips and heat races up my body. I can’t believe that mouth was on me. I shove the thought away before I lunge at him.

He looks at me hard, keeping his voice low. “Did you tell them?”

“Well, hello to you too.”

He shakes his head, glancing down the hall, then back to me again. “Seriously, Harriet,” he hisses. “Did you tell them what happened?”

“No!” I hiss back, not bothering to keep the irritation out of my voice. Then I remember what I told Alex and the others at the bar. “Well, I told Alex that something happened on the plane, but I didn’t mention your name or anything. I didn’t even know you were—”

“Okay.” His posture relaxes. “Okay, good.”

“But this looks a bit suspicious, doesn’t it?” I gesture down the hallway and glare at him.

“Shit, yes,” he mutters. “I just had to check.”

There’s a sound in the living room and without stopping to think, I yank open the door to Henry’s room and hurl myself inside, my heart pounding.

This is insane. Why is he here? And what the fuck am I supposed to do now?