Wedding Weekend Begins
842 Words
By the time evening arrived, the resort was glowing.
Soft lanterns lined the stone pathways, music floated through the warm air, and guests drifted in elegant clusters, laughter mixing with the clink of glasses. The official start of the wedding weekend had arrived, and with it, Amelia’s role as the happily taken younger sister.
She stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the emerald-green dress that hugged her curves just enough to feel dangerous. She looked polished, confident—exactly who her family expected her to be. Yet her pulse betrayed her calm as she waited.
A knock sounded at the door.
She opened it—and forgot how to breathe.
Ethan stood there in a dark tailored suit, no tie, collar open just enough to look intentional rather than careless. The dim hallway light caught in his eyes, making them darker, deeper.
“You look…” He paused, clearly choosing his words carefully. “…stunning.”
Amelia felt heat rise to her cheeks. “You clean up well yourself.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “Occupational hazard.”
She laughed, then stopped short when he extended his arm.
“Shall we?” he asked. “Public performance begins now.”
She slipped her hand through his arm. The contact was light, but it sent an unmistakable awareness through her body. This wasn’t like earlier—this wasn’t accidental. This was deliberate.
And somehow, that made it worse.
⸻
The moment they stepped into the reception area, heads turned.
Amelia felt it immediately—the attention, the scrutiny, the curiosity. Her family noticed too. Her mother’s eyes widened. Her sister paused mid-conversation. A few cousins leaned in, whispering.
Ethan didn’t miss a beat.
His hand settled at the small of Amelia’s back, firm and reassuring, anchoring her. He leaned in slightly, his voice low and warm against her ear.
“Relax,” he murmured. “You’re doing great.”
She swallowed. “I’m not doing anything.”
“Exactly.”
They moved together as if they’d done this a hundred times—his steps matching hers, his posture protective but not possessive. When her aunt swooped in with barely concealed curiosity, Ethan greeted her with charm so natural it bordered on dangerous.
“It’s lovely to finally meet you,” he said, shaking her hand. “Amelia’s told me so much about you.”
Amelia shot him a look.
He smiled smoothly. “Only the good things.”
Her aunt beamed. “Oh, we like him already.”
That was the problem.
So did Amelia.
⸻
Dinner was worse—or better. She couldn’t decide.
Ethan pulled out her chair before sitting beside her, close enough that his knee brushed hers under the table. Every time someone addressed them as a couple, he responded effortlessly, fingers occasionally tracing small, absent-minded patterns on her wrist or hand.
Each touch was subtle.
Each one felt intentional.
Each one chipped away at her resolve.
Halfway through the meal, her sister leaned over.
“He’s… impressive,” she whispered. “Where did you find him?”
Amelia forced a smile. “He found me.”
Ethan’s thumb stilled briefly against her skin, just long enough for her to notice.
⸻
Later, music filled the air, and couples drifted toward the dance floor. Amelia was content to stay seated—until Ethan stood and offered his hand.
“Dance with me.”
Her first instinct was to say no.
Her second instinct—stronger, louder—said yes.
As they moved together slowly, the world seemed to narrow. His hand rested at her waist, steady and warm. Her palm rested against his chest, where she could feel his heartbeat—strong, measured, real.
“You’re very convincing,” she said quietly.
“So are you.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
He looked down at her then, really looked at her. “I know.”
Something shifted in his expression—something deeper than charm, heavier than playfulness.
“Does that bother you?” he asked.
She hesitated. “It should.”
“But it doesn’t.”
“No,” she admitted softly. “It doesn’t.”
They swayed in silence after that, the music wrapping around them like a secret. For a moment, Amelia forgot about contracts, family expectations, and the ticking clock that marked the end of their arrangement.
All she felt was him.
When the song ended, Ethan didn’t let go immediately. Instead, he leaned in just enough for his words to be meant only for her.
“This weekend,” he said, “might be harder than we planned.”
Her heart thudded. “Why?”
“Because pretending…” His gaze dropped briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes. “…is becoming complicated.”
He stepped back then, reclaiming distance with practiced ease, but the damage was already done.
As they rejoined the crowd, Amelia knew one thing with terrifying clarity:
The wedding weekend had only just begun—and she was already in trouble.
- Writer
