Chapter 1

chapter

one

Annabelle

I've been trying for weeks now to not turn into Bridezilla. Especially since very little about this wedding is what I want in the first place.

There are three things you should probably know. First, I'm normally very low maintenance. Don't even wear make-up all that often. Second, I'm not your normal bride. And third, this is strictly a marriage of convenience.

I finally got the "bride's" room of the famous luxury hotel, The Montgomery, to myself with the help of my sister, Lizzie. Less than an hour now and I'll become Mrs. Devon McCall.

I shake my hands out to try and alleviate some of my jitters. My nerves are all over the place today. Understandably since it is my wedding day. Even if this isn't how I envisioned it when I was a little girl.

Back then it was all frilly Sunday dresses paired with a pillowcase clipped to my hair to act as my veil. The colors varied. I'd carry a hand-pulled bouquet of wildflowers and weeds. Then I'd walk down a makeshift aisle to my sweet and perfect groom. Back then it was always Greyson Hendricks.

We're still friends today, but our lives are separate since my grandparents made me and Lizzie move from Saddle Creek to the higher society life of Houston, Texas.

The wedding I'm about to experience is different from those childhood fantasies in every way. Instead of marrying my childhood crush, Grayson, I'm about to wed my adult friend, Devon. (Side note: Devon is gayer than a Broadway chorus line.) Instead of marrying for love, I'm marrying for money, because my grandparents are control freaks who think women can't make decisions without a man's help.

Yep, my grandmother is a piece of work. Basically, if I don't marry by the time I'm twenty-six, the inheritance my father left my sister and I, goes to someone else. It's stupid and absurd, but there it is. You wanna guess whose birthday is next week?

Yep. Mine.

If I'm not married in four days, I get nothing.

And if it was just me, I'd take it on the chin. I can make my own way in the world. But half of that money should have gone to my sister. And she's a single mom, doing her damnedest to keep a bunch of balls in the air.

It's the principal of the matter. My grandparents shouldn't be able to disinherit either of us just because they don't like our life choices. Once I'm married and the money is mine, I can give as much of it to my sister as I want.

So last month, my gay bestie, Devon, and I hatched a plan to get married. But then my grandmother got involved in planning it, and it became a whole thing.

Now, here we are: at the most luxurious hotel on the Texas coast, having a destination wedding, with dozens of guests flown in from all over Texas, all paid for by my grandparents. Don't get the wrong idea. This isn't generosity on their part. They just want to make sure that everyone knows at least one of their descendants has her shit together.

They wanted a big wedding with lots of witnesses. Fine.

So here we are. I'm ready to walk down the aisle like a sacrificial lamb, all so that next week, when I turn twenty-six, I'll be someone's wife. And with a big, strong man by my side, I can officially access my inheritance.

Despite all my planning, I can't shake the feeling that something is going to go wrong. As if on cue, my phone pings from the dressing table where an entire Sephora store's make-up is spread around. I grab it, ignoring the image of myself in the mirror.

DEVON: I can't do it, babe. I thought I could, but I just can't.

DEVON: I'm so sorry. Please don't be mad. I'm already halfway to Houston.

DEVON: Let's do drinks when you get back.

I stare at the phone in disbelief. Is he serious right now?

"No, no, no. This cannot be happening," I mutter to myself.

"What's going on?" Lizzie asks, stepping back into the room.

I just hold the phone out to her.

"Mother fucker!"

"You kiss your kids with that mouth?" I ask, dryly.

"You know I do." She smirks at me.

"What am I going to do?"

"You should just cancel the wedding. You don't really want to do this anyway. I don't need you to save me."

"I'm not going to cancel. I've come this far. I'm committed."

"You're ridiculous is what you are. You don't even want to get married. You're only doing this for me."

"And me too. Not to mention Bennet and Lydia. I refuse to let that woman punish us."

"We can live without the money," Lizzie says. "We don't need to be rich."

I grab her hands and squeeze them. "This isn't about getting rich. This is about getting what our father left to us and making sure your kids have anything and everything they need."

"But you have to sacrifice everything to do that. Annabelle, having Devon walk away has to be a sign."

"Absolutely. A sign that I should never have asked my dear friend to pretend to be straight and marry me so I can secure our inheritance. I mean he could have told me a little sooner." I shake the voluminous fabric of my skirt.

A knock sounds on the door. "Why is this locked? Annabelle?" Our grandmother's voice comes from the other side of the door.

"Shit," I whisper. "Can you go deal with her? Just keep her away and don't tell her about Devon. I'm gonna try to fix this."

"How? You have no groom!"

"I'll figure something out. Just go deal with the dragon lady."

Lizzie gives me one more look, then goes to the door. She deftly leaves the room while not allowing the other woman to enter.

"Grandmother! I think I saw Houston's first lady," Lizzie says, "are she and the mayor really here?"

"Oh! I can't imagine they'd drive all the way to Corpus Christie, but if they did, I must greet them."

I blow out a breath and look back down at my phone. Then I send a text I've been trying to avoid.

ME: Are you here?

GREYSON: Yeah, darlin', I'm sitting here waiting to see how pretty you look in your dress.

ME: I'm calling in our pact.

ME: I'll explain later.

The three dots appear, then disappear, then reappear. Yep, he's probably freaking out.

GREYSON: Bella, are you asking what I think you're asking?

ME: bride emoji groom emoji ???

GREYSON: Where are you right now?

ME: A small room behind the restaurant. I believe they hung a white flower wreath on the door.

GREYSON: Stay put.

Where else am I going to go? I can't even sit very comfortably in this dress. I pace a little until there's a knock on the door.

My heart pounds restlessly in my chest. I haven't seen Grey face-to-face in a few years. We've kept in touch with emails and texts, and a phone call every now and then, but he's had his life in Saddle Creek, and I've pretended to have one in Houston.

When my grandmother insisted on a massive society wedding, I panicked. I managed to convince her that a small, intimate, but sophisticated and exclusive, ceremony in a romantic setting was a better option. She loved the optics of that idea. After all, nothing truly matters if no one sees you do it.

I almost didn't even send Grey an invitation because I wasn't sure he'd want to drive down from Saddle Creek. Frankly, I think it hurt his feelings that I even asked that.

"Bella," his rumbly word comes from the other side of the door.

My stupid body reacts to the sound of his voice, like it usually does.

I put my hand on the knob and turn to fling the door open. Apprehensive, but ready to see my best friend after all these years.

Tattooed fingers grip the door though, preventing me from opening it all the way.

"Greyson?"

"Hey darlin', you needing a groom?"

I chuckle and it comes out a little manic. "Funny story."

"Just answer the question. You want to get hitched today? To me?"

My heart clutches at his words. Inexplicably, tears prickle at the back of my eyes.

Do I want to marry Grey? Yeah. More than I've ever wanted anything. Really, it's all that I've ever wanted. But that's also not what this is about.

So, I swallow back my emotions and say simply, "Yes."

"Alright then, that's what I needed to know. I'll see you at the front of—well, it's not a church, exactly."

"Normally a restaurant that looks over the clear blue water. I would have preferred barefoot on the beach with sand between my toes, but Grandmother would have none of that."

He unwraps his inked fingers and holds his hand out to me. But something is still blocking the door from opening.

I take his hand in mine, and he gives me a squeeze.

"Then let's get married," he says.

"Just like that? Even though it was a ridiculous pact we made when we were children?"

"I meant it then. I mean it now."

"Greyson, open the door. Let me hug you."

"Nah, darlin', it's bad luck for the groom to see his bride before the wedding."

I laugh, but then realize he's completely serious. I blow out a breath. "Are you sure?"

"Bella," he warns.

"Okay, I know you. You don't say things you don't mean."

"Right. Deep breaths, darlin', I got you."

For the first time today, relief washes over me. "Thank you."

"See you out there."

"I'll be the one in a big poufy white dress."

"Looking forward to seeing you in it."