Cuff Me(5)

She faked it.

Jill pasted a smile on her face, took a deep breath, and shot her left hand out in front of Elena’s face.

“What, are you—” Elena broke off, her cool fingers wrapping around Jill’s wrist as her mouth dropped open. “No. Freaking. Way.”

“Way.”

Elena let out an uncharacteristic squeal. “You’re getting married?!”

The words hit Jill with a little slap.

She was getting married.

It felt… funny.

Probably because she wasn’t used to it yet.

Elena threw herself across the backseat, arms wrapped around Jill’s neck as she kissed the side of Jill’s head repeatedly.

“Congratulations, darling! When? Do I get to be maid of honor? I won’t wear green, but you know that. How did it happen? How did it happen? Oh yeah, and why did you not tell me?”

Jill managed to extricate herself from Elena’s grip, only to have her left hand held hostage as Elena studied the square-cut diamond with a scary level of scrutiny.

“He asked last night,” Jill said, gazing fondly at the ring. “I thought it was our farewell dinner, and, well, he had other ideas.”

“Hell yeah, he did,” Elena said, ceasing studying the diamond so that she could instead study Jill.

“I wanted to call you last night,” Jill said apologetically. “I so did. But I thought if I could hold off just a few hours, and tell you in person…”

“Forgiven. Of course. I mean, the news is so much better with the ring, you know?”

Let’s hope everyone feels that way. Jill sat in thought as Elena lifted her hand, studying the ring.

Because if she’d been nervous to tell Elena, it was nothing compared to her nerves over telling Vincent. Which made no sense. She and Vin weren’t romantically involved. Had never even come close.

And he might be the most surly grouch on the planet, but he cared about her. Cared about her happiness.

He would be happy for her.

Wouldn’t he?

“I’m thrilled, you know that, right?” Elena asked.

Jill smiled because she knew that tone. “But…”

Her friend bit her lip for a moment, looking uncharacteristically unsure of herself before taking a deep breath. “Okay, I’m just going to come right out and say it. This happened fast. You’ve known the guy three months. You’re all the way sure?”

Jill twisted the ring. “I’m sure. I’m totally sure. You’ll understand when you meet him, El. He’s just… he’s just… he’s perfect.”

“Perfect, huh? You just got engaged, so I’m going to allow for the hyperbole. But tell me why I should let this guy marry my best friend.”

Jill blew out a breath, wondering how to explain. “You know you meet another person and just get them? It was like that.”

“Explain.”

Explain.

How did one explain Tom Edward Porter and how when you met someone as perfectly right for you as Tom was for her, you couldn’t afford to waste thought on things like soul mates or passion.

You just had to go for it.

“Okay, it’s like this,” Jill said, twisting so she could better face Elena. “When you were little, did you ever make your brothers play wedding with you? You know, make one of them pretend to be the groom?”

“Um, of course.”

“Luc?” Jill asked curiously.

“Obviously. He’s the nicest of the bunch, and the youngest, which made him easiest to coerce.”

Jill nodded. Elena had four brothers, and with the exception of mostly easygoing Luc, she couldn’t imagine any of them patiently letting their sister dress them up as groom to her bride.

Luc Moretti—the bambino as he was lovingly known—might have managed to stand still just long enough to say his pretend vows.

Anthony, the oldest, was far too serious. Marco was more laid-back, although from what Jill had heard, he’d also been the most rowdy of the kids. Then there was Vincent, and the thought of him humoring anyone, least of all his sister… no. Just no.

Jill felt a tightening in her chest at the thought of the Morettis. God, she’d missed them.

Elena snapped her fingers in Jill’s face. “Your mind is wandering. Focus, Jilly.”

“Right, okay… so back when we were little girls and imagining our perfect future husband… we were totally picturing Tom.”

“So… you’re marrying an eight-year-old’s fantasy? That’s not creepy at all.”

Jill laughed, missing her friend’s no bullshit candor. “No, okay, it’s like… Tom is just nice. He’s the sort of guy you dream about on Valentine’s Day when you’re depressed about being single, so you buy bridal magazines, and then spend the evening looking at goofy white dresses, drinking too much merlot, and wondering when exactly he would arrive on a white horse.”

Or maybe that was just Jill’s Valentine’s Day, more often than not.

It didn’t matter. Tom Porter was like something out of a dream. The only box he didn’t tick off in the Prince Charming checklist was the white horse, but that was okay because his Audi convertible was even better.

In fact, he was so perfect, so charming, that the first time she saw him, it had taken Jill several seconds to register that he was real.