UNEDITED
*You have to read The Truth About Faking before reading this novella!*
This is a novella about Jake and Gemma's wedding and the events leading up to it.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Gemma
My heart is racing so fast I think I might pass out.
I promised myself I would never become one of those overexcited brides who continues to fantasize about her wedding and just how perfect it's going to be. I promised myself. Yet here I am, scrolling through all the pictures I took of Quails' Gate Winery and the Lake House, excited for what's to come. I'm also brainstorming last-minute ideas about my makeup and hair style. I can't decide whether or not I want my hair to up or down, if I want my makeup to be subtle or bold. I heave a heavy sigh, tossing my phone to the couch. After all those years I spent moulding myself into different women and pairing their personalities with the proper wardrobe and makeup habits, you'd think I'd be able to decide what the hell I want to do with my own face and hair for my own wedding.
"How are you still brainstorming?" Jake laughs, walking up behind me and resting his hands on my shoulders. He begins to massage them in a slow, mind-numbing way. I close my eyes, letting myself fall victim to his strong hands. "I don't think I can brainstorm for the next week. My cloud has run dry."
"Mine too," I sigh. "Why are hair and makeup so complicated?"
"Don't know, Gem," he laughs. "But I'm sure as hell glad I'm not a woman."
"Right," I chuckle. "Because you won't go anywhere near any waxing products."
His deep laugh vibrates through his chest as he pulls me up and turns me around so I'm facing him, me kneeling on the couch, him standing behind the couch. "Nor will I go near any sunscreen bottles that have been touched by you," he jokes.
Warmth spreads through my chest, and I lean forward to kiss him. He kisses me back, tangling his fingers in my hair and tilting my face upward to deepen the kiss. My lips part without hesitation and I taste the sweet buttery flavour of the pastry we shared at The Market before leaving. Every stroke of his tongue is like a match to gasoline, as is the way he skims his thumb across the bare skin between the waist of my shorts and where my shirt as slightly rode up. I'll never be able to fathom how he continues to have this effect on me, but I hope it never fades away.
"How about we go out and get some dinner?" he murmurs against my lips. "Sustenance will help you make final decisions about your hair and makeup."
I rest my hand on his cheek. "I don't think anything is going to help me at this point, but I never say no to food." I glance around at the mess I've made. I'm kneeling in the middle of a storm of scattered papers, open notebooks, bridal magazines, and my iPhone. "I'll clean up quickly and then we can go. It looks like a bomb went off in here."
"Yeah," Jake says, scratching his head. "You'd think a woman like you would work like a grown-up and not some little kid."
I throw a magazine at him, but instead of it hitting his head, he manages to deflect it. "You just wait," I scowl. "If we ever decide to have kids, the mess is going to be triple this, mark my words."
