He's a cynic. She's a romantic. One deal, one wedding, and one gigantic secret stand between them.
**
Harper Lane wants to believe in true love. After her parents split, she began photographing evidence of it. Couples holding hands. Valentine's Day...
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Lawson's first mistake had been going to a party.
His second — and potentially more disastrous — mistake had been agreeing to family brunch the next morning. And then actually going to family brunch. He'd vomited twice on the tube, once in a public bin, and now he'd vomited again.
This time, right into his mother's prize-winning pansies.
"You know," Paige said, "you could have made it to the toilets, if you'd been a little quicker. Like, thirty seconds quicker."
His sister was sitting on a stone ledge in the conservatory, her legs dangling off the edge. Sunlight filtered through the window, illuminating bits of gold in her dark plaits. Then again, Lawson thought, his older sister's hair was always neatly plaited; Paige was allergic to any form of mess.
Lawson pulled a face. "Thank-you for your sympathy."
"I'm just saying." Paige shrugged. "You should take up running."
"I hate running," Lawson said.
"Cycling?"
"Let me rephrase." Lawson lifted his head, wincing as his stomach lurched. "I hate any form of cardio."
"Untrue." Paige popped a piece of gum. "I've seen you sprint to grab the last bottle of champagne. That counts."
Lawson groaned, resting his head against the cool stone. "Please don't mention champagne right now. I'm feeling very fragile."
Paige smirked. "And whose fault is that?"
Lawson cracked one eye open. The conservatory roof was swaying slightly, a carousel of stained red glass and leaves. The smell of damp earth and oranges filtered through the room. His stomach lurched again, and he gripped the edge of the pot.
That last breakfast sausage had been a mistake.
A big mistake.
Paige hopped off the ledge. "Where's your ring?"
"What?"
Paige nodded at his hand. "Your signet ring." She drew closer. "You always wear it on your left hand. Like some sort of pretentious twat."
Lawson squinted through bleary eyes. "Oh. Shit. I must have left it with—"
He cut off. Unfortunately, the damage was done; Paige's eyes lit up. His sister knelt next to him, looking disturbingly like a cat encircling a mouse.
"With...?" Paige prompted.
He gripped the pot. "Never mind."
"It's a girl, isn't it?"
Yes. "No."
"Liar," Paige declared. "You met a girl last night. And you gave her your ring." She sprawled next to him, kicking her legs out. "What's her name?"
