Never Marry Your Brother's Best Friend (Never Say Never, #1)

That's a very different situation than I ever agreed to. Technically.

And though I always imagined myself getting married, I assumed it would be for love. Not for art or business. Even so, when I see how earnestly Carter is looking at Zack, as though this is an actual moment honoring their friendship, I can’t help but be moved.

I kick Zack under the table and he flinches. “Oww!” Rubbing his shin, he looks at me angrily. In return, I shoot daggers at him.

I drop my voice, trying to sound like Zack. “I’d be honored. Say it, numb nuts.”

Zack and Carter chuckle, both of their heads dropping in disbelief.

Holding out a hand to Carter across the table, Zack sighs. “Apparently, I’d be honored.” I have to admit, my imitation was close. Most folks wouldn’t have even heard the difference in our two voices. “Though I reserve the right to kick your ass again. One punch hardly seems fair.”

“Zack!” I shout too loudly.

But Carter nods. “Deal.”

Men are so frustrating.





CHAPTER

TWENTY-ONE





LUNA





“Are you sure about this?” Samantha asks me for the millionth time.

My answer is the same as every time before. “No. I’m not sure about anything at this point!”

My hands are flailing, my heart is racing, and I’ve probably walked at least a mile in the last ten minutes around Carter’s bedroom. I heard about a guy who ran a marathon on his balcony, going back and forth from one end to the other in a nearly never-ending loop of dedicated absurdity. But right now, I have more than enough energy to do that. I could probably high-knee it with the levels of nervous vibes I’m dealing with.

Sam steps in front of me with her hands up to stop my progress across the room. Except it doesn’t work because I’m lost in my own mind and walk right into her, boob smacking boob in quite the bumper collision. “Hey!”

“Who would’a thought you’d be hitting second base on your wedding day with someone other than the groom?” Sam laughs. “You’re turning into a regular, everyday whore, aren’t you?”

“I am no such thing! And keep your voice down!” I clamp my hand over her mouth, looking at the closed door. “Carter and Zack are going to hear.”

It’s weird, thinking of them getting dressed in Carter’s guest bedroom. Carter insisted, though, saying it was only right for me and Samantha to use his primary bedroom with the attached bathroom. The ceremony, if you can call it that, is going to be in the living room.

It’s only been two days since the dinner with Zack, and in the interim, he’s tried to talk me out of this decision, worrying I’m on some people-pleasing, misguided mission. Meanwhile, Samantha’s been trying to talk me into it, waxing poetic about the value of having an adventure and living boldly in my youth as if she’s not the same age I am.

And Carter, in full-blown fiancé mode, has been listening to me go back and forth indecisively and then leaving me mindless with back-bowing orgasm after orgasm. After our initial miscommunication, he’s been more than happy to help me ‘practice’ things I’ve only imagined before. And though I’ve never been an athlete, I’m starting to understand the value of the ‘two-a-days’ type practice they do.

Carter’s also found time in between orgasms to order dozens of white roses. Samantha and I made a quick trip to the boutique to see Brenda for a white dress, and most surprisingly, Carter suggested that we do our own vows. Which I guess is good because the standard ones aren’t exactly appropriate for what we’re doing. There’s no love, honor, and obey here.

No forever either.

Quick, simple, easy. That’s the theme of the day. It’s real, but not.

Samantha licks my palm, and I recoil, freeing her to mouth off again. “Who cares? It’s not real, remember?”

Samantha’s being flippant, but there’s a spark of intelligence in her eyes. She knows what she’s doing by pushing me. In return, I start pacing again. “I care,” I admit. “I didn’t always have dreams like other kids, but the day I got married? I imagined that, and it wasn’t this.”

“But this is a paperwork thing to help a friend, not a real marriage. Like a green card situation,” Samantha reasons. “So later, when you meet Mr. Right and want to marry for love, you’ll have the dream wedding then. I’ll make sure of it.”

Her words toss around in my head. Helping a friend. Like a green card situation. Which is illegal, but what I’m doing with Carter isn’t wrong to that degree. It’s just crazy and not the kind of thing that happens to people like me. I’m boring, strange, and close to being a hermit.

But here I am, standing before a floor-length mirror in a white gown with hope in my eyes and confusion in my heart. “This feels real, dangerously so,” I whisper to Sam. “I don’t know if I’m cut out to play pretend wife to this level.”

She stands behind me, meeting my gaze in the mirror. “One, say the word and I’ll have you out of here in a second. You know that. Today or any day. But two, do you love Carter?”

“I feel like I’m supposed to say yes if we’re getting married, but . . .” I shrug, pulling a face. “I like him.”

I expect her to be horrified, but she smiles instead. “Perfect. If you said you love him and he was doing this for a work deal, I’d veto the whole shebang myself. But you’re not invested in him like that. You like each other, you have great sex, you can live in the lap of luxury, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll bring in the biggest and best exhibition the museum’s ever seen. You might even end up with a raise or a promotion at work, which would give you the funds to get Alphena to market. It’s a win all the way around.” She winks and adds, “Plus, it’ll be a great story to tell our grandkids when we’re old biddies in the nursing home.”

She’s right, but is it enough? Isn’t this still wrong?

“Business is business, babe. Ain’t nothing wrong with that,” Sam decides, and I find myself nodding, even though I’m still not sure.





Carter



“I can’t believe you’re going through with it,” Zack tells me with a grin that shows off too many white teeth. He’s like a shark, looking for blood in the water . . . probably mine.

“Are you enjoying this?”

He laughs bitterly, not bothering to shrink his smile in the slightest. Now that I look again, it’s maybe more of a baring of his teeth than a smile. “Are you kidding? We’ve done some stupid shit, but this takes the cake . . . and the pie . . . and the whole damn dessert buffet.” He waves his hands around at the wedding setup in my living room. “Still, I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”

“You’re about to,” I warn.

He flicks one of the white roses dangling from the fireplace mantel. “You’re not ditching me now.”