BooksBarbecue
Back The Companion Project
Chapters (89)
  1. Dedication
  2. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  3. ONE
  4. HENRY
  5. TWO
  6. EMMA
  7. THREE
  8. HENRY
  9. FOUR
  10. EMMA
  11. FIVE
  12. EMMA
  13. SIX
  14. SEVEN
  15. HENRY
  16. EIGHT
  17. NINE
  18. TEN
  19. HENRY
  20. ELEVEN
  21. TWELVE
  22. EMMA
  23. THIRTEEN
  24. HENRY
  25. FOURTEEN
  26. HENRY
  27. FIFTEEN
  28. SIXTEEN
  29. EMMA
  30. SEVENTEEN
  31. HENRY
  32. EIGHTEEN
  33. HENRY
  34. NINETEEN
  35. HENRY
  36. TWENTY
  37. TWENTY-ONE
  38. EMMA
  39. TWENTY-TWO
  40. EMMA
  41. TWENTY-THREE
  42. HENRY
  43. TWENTY-FOUR
  44. EMMA
  45. TWENTY-FIVE
  46. EMMA
  47. TWENTY-SIX
  48. EMMA
  49. TWENTY-SEVEN
  50. HENRY
  51. TWENTY-EIGHT
  52. EMMA
  53. TWENTY-NINE
  54. HENRY
  55. THIRTY
  56. HENRY
  57. THIRTY-ONE
  58. HENRY
  59. THIRTY-TWO
  60. EMMA
  61. THIRTY-THREE
  62. HENRY
  63. THIRTY-FOUR
  64. EMMA
  65. THIRTY-FIVE
  66. EMMA
  67. THIRTY-SIX
  68. HENRY
  69. THIRTY-SEVEN
  70. EMMA
  71. THIRTY-EIGHT
  72. HENRY
  73. THIRTY-NINE
  74. HENRY
  75. FORTY
  76. EMMA
  77. FORTY-ONE
  78. HENRY
  79. FORTY-TWO
  80. FORTY-THREE
  81. EMMA
  82. FORTY-FOUR
  83. EMMA
  84. FORTY-FIVE
  85. HENRY
  86. EPILOGUE
  87. ALSO BY CHELSEA CURTO
  88. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  89. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Why the fuck do these people care so much about my personal life? I don’t know half of them, and here they are, judging me and making assumptions without bothering to speak to either of us. The last fucking thing I’m doing is grabbing a microphone and announcing our arrival to these nosy assholes when I really want to flip them all off.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Betsy, the girl my mother wanted to set me up with, whispering into another woman’s ear. They both sneer at us, directing most of their disdain toward Emma. I gulp, drawing her in closer to me. I’m not going to be able to protect her forever, so a temporary shield will have to do.

I grab two flutes of mimosas off the first tray I find, handing one to her and ignoring the receiving line beckoning us for introductions. “Drink?” I ask.

“God, yes,” she replies, sipping it greedily. Half the contents disappear in a single gulp.

Okay. Maybe she’s not as immune to nerves as she thinks she is.

“Small sips, princess. Can’t have you getting sick.”

She nods, bringing the glass away from her mouth and licking her bottom lip. Fuck, I want to help her clean up the mess.

“Henry? Is this the girlfriend I’ve heard rumblings about?” Grandma Jean, my mother’s mother, calls from across the field, the first to strike. I flinch, wondering how the hell an 89-year-old woman’s voice is able to carry so far.

I can’t ignore her. That would be cruel.

“Hi, GJ, yeah, this is her,” I call back, keeping my voice neutral. “So much for trying to lay low,” I hiss to Emma.

“You said it yourself: You with a woman is a sight to behold. I’ll go introduce myself. You mingle with your family and I’ll come find you in a bit.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, afraid to release her into the wild alone.

“I’m positive. Grandmas are my jam. I’ll see you in a few.”

She stands on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to my cheek in a fleeting, chaste kiss. Emma moves away so fast, I’m not sure it even happened, and I’m left staring after her, resisting the urge to touch where her mouth met my skin. That would be a dead fucking giveaway.

Pull it together, Dawson. You can do this.

* * *

I can see why people shell out money for Emma’s services. She’s believable and really sells this shit, spending the last thirty minutes sitting with GJ, a genuine smile on her face the entire time, even though I know my grandmother is incessantly chattering away, leaving her no room to escape.