Page 43 of Never Not Friends

Suddenly, Vinny’s arm is around my shoulders.

Warm. Solid. Casual.

New.

But at the same time, familiar.

My entire body reacts before my brain does.

It’s instant—heat rushing up my neck, my spine going stiff, my heart tripping over itself like it forgot the rhythm. His hand rests on my upper arm, his thumb accidentally brushing the skin under my sleeve, and it’s such a nothing thing, but somehow it feels like everything.

Vinny and I don’t ever touch. Not like this.

“There’s no mix-up,” he says with kind eyes. “That’s us. Juliet and Vinny. The bride and groom.”

My face goes cold.

All the blood just drained straight out of it.

I turn my head, staring at him. He’s smiling, completely unbothered by the falsehood of his words.

“Oh, thank goodness!” Lucille lets out a relieved sigh. “I thought I had made a mistake. Take a seat at the table. I’ll be right back.” She’s already turning, not even questioning whether we’re going to follow her command.

Vinny’s hand is still around me. I can feel every point of contact, like his arm is part of me, like it’s been around me for a century.

The second she disappears into the back, I step away, shrugging him off. “What are you doing?”

He looks at me, confused for half a second, and then he gestures to where Lucille just escaped. “I had to. The poor woman couldn’t figure it out.”

“You just told her we’re the bride and groom, and we’re not.”

“It’s not like we’re signing legal documents.” He smiles. “We’re just helping Lucille out so she’s not so confused. Besides, it’s a little funny if you think about it.”

Funny?

Right.

Because nothing says lighthearted humor like impersonating your best friend who has no clue you love her fiancé.

“Vinny—”

“Emma.” He cuts me off, smiling softer now. “It’s easier to just go with it than to explain why Juliet isn’t here. It’s just cake.”

If only this were just about cake.

Before I can respond, Lucille reappears, carrying a tray.

A large tray.

Filled with dozens of cake flavors.

Different colors. Different layers. Different frostings piped in perfect swirls.

“Alright, lovebirds,” she says brightly, and I catch the exact moment Vinny wags his brows at me. “Let’s get you seated and eating.”

She pulls the chairs together. Not across. Next to each other. And we sit, as if there’s no other choice.

My thigh touches Vinny’s, and it’s brutal in all the best ways.