With Bridger.
Not by myself anymore.
Dex fiddles with his phone, scrolling through the playlist he prepped. I have no idea what to expect. With Dex in charge, the music could be anything from Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” to “SexyBack” by Justin Timberlake. But soon the instrumental arrangement of Taylor Swift’s “Wildest Dreams” drifts toward me. The version from the first season ofBridgerton.
I should’ve known.
Dex has three sisters, a wife, and a mother who are all obsessed with the show. And when Bridger first got hired at Stony Peak, Dex called him Bridgertonrelentlessly, until Sayla and I begged him to stop.
Bridger himself didn’t seem to mind, unflappable as he is. And standing at the end of the aisle now, he’s got that same steady confidence on display. Same square jaw, too. Same broad shoulders. Same swoop of dark hair. Same piercing eyes. Honestly, the Duke of Hastings has nothing on my?—
“Loren!” Sayla calls out.
I inhale a wobbly breath. “Yes?”
“I’m gonna set the video timer for five seconds, so count backward, then walk toward me slowly. I mean, walk toward Bridger.”
“Okay!” I flash her a thumbs-up, despite the throbbing in my ears. She moves to the tripod, presses record, then quickly returns to her spot.
Go time.
As I make my way down the aisle, my heart’s pounding so hard, I focus only on the runner, just trying not to face-plant. I’m almost at the end before I lift my gaze and find Bridger waiting for me, patient and steady.
A tightness loosens in my chest, and he extends a hand, like he knows I’ll need him for balance. If I can just make it to him without falling, everything will be all right.
He’ll make sure of that.
He takes a step forward, reaching for me, and I grab on to him like he’s a life preserver. He gives my fingers a squeeze, but immediately turns toward the officiant. No eyes locking. No private smile.
Right. Because we’re pretending.
Don’t forget that, Loren.
“Welcome, friends,” the lady in the pantsuit begins.
Friends. Hmm.
Did she use that word on purpose? I shoot a glance at Bridger, wondering how much he told her about our situation, but he’s looking directly at Pantsuit Lady. His jaw shifts, and he offers her a tight nod. She nods back, then aims a quick smile at Sayla’s phone.
“My name is Susan,” she continues. “And we’re gathered here today to join this man and this woman in … matrimony.”
Okay, so Susan Pantsuit must knowsomething.She called us friends, and she left out the word holy. Hopefully, she’ll keep this ceremony as real as possible without forcing us to promise anything we don’t mean.
“Marriage is not an institution to be entered into lightly,” she goes on. “But rather a decision undertaken wisely. Soberly. And with good intentions only. That’s something we all can agree on, isn't it?”
Her gaze sweeps between the four of us, like she expects an actual answer.
Dex is the first to chime in. “Hear, hear!”
“Of course,” Sayla agrees, darting her eyes to me. “Good intentions.”
“Yes?” I squeak, more like a question. But I’d be lying if I claimed I wasn’t at least a little unsure of what we’re doing.
“Absolutely,” Bridger says. His voice is deep and strong. So certain, I almost believe him.
“You may face each other,” Susan Pantsuit instructs. “And join hands.”
We do as she says, but I train my eyes on a spot above his brow. Meeting his gaze feels a bit dangerous right now. Talking to his forehead is definitely safer.