Sofie and the Movie Star: A Lovestruck Short Story (Lovestruck #3.5)(4)

My uncle, finished with his job, joined my aunt in the front pew. I watched as he took her hand, as she leaned into him slightly, her eyes bright with tears, and found I had to blink back my own. But this time, I couldn’t bring myself to find any shame in the show of emotion. My Aunt Sofia, the woman for whom I was named, had nearly died after a burst aneurysm last spring. The fact that she was here with us, happy and healthy, to watch her youngest daughter get married felt like a gift. I may have prided myself on not being as emotional as the rest of the family, but my heart wasn’t completely stony.

As the reverend began the ceremony, I let my eyes wander over the guests. By our family standards, the ceremony was positively tiny, with just over fifty guests. About half of them were members of our family, flown over from the States for the wedding. A few of my aunts and uncles, cousins, Lizzie’s nieces and nephew, my nieces and nephews. My parents were sitting in the second pew, right behind Lizzie’s. It took me a moment to realize that my mother’s eyes were not locked on the ceremony. Instead, her gaze seemed to flick back and forth between the couple and me. And the look on her face told me exactly what she was thinking.

I immediately straightened, anger coursing through me. Could she be any more obvious? When I first told my parents about the baby they had reacted exactly the way I expected them to—they freaked the hell out. My mom had sobbed so hard you would have thought I was sick or something, not merely pregnant. And my dad had gone white-faced and silent, looking for all the world like I’d broken his heart.

I left home to move in with Lizzie and Thomas that same day. I was freaked out enough by the unexpected motherhood without dealing with their drama. They begged me to come home for months, finally succeeding when we reconciled over Laura’s new baby. And they’d mostly been okay since I moved back in. They’d even changed my sister’s old room into a nursery for the baby, painted in yellow and white since I had decided against finding out the gender. They almost seemed excited for me.

Yet here was my mom, looking longingly from me to my cousin, clearly mourning the fact that it was Lizzie standing there getting married instead of me.

I clenched my fists around the stem of the bouquet, breathing through my nose, trying to calm down. You’re just being overly sensitive, I told myself, again blaming the pesky hormones. Maybe she was thinking about us as kids, and that’s why she was looking at both of us. But I knew it wasn’t true.


For the rest of the ceremony I did my best not to look at my parents at all, focusing instead on the other side of the chapel. The groom’s side. It was a long time before I realized that one of the guests was looking back at me.

I was so surprised I nearly dropped the flowers. Three pews from the back, right on the end, sat Jackson Coles, looking every bit as gorgeous as I could possibly imagine.

And he was staring right at me.





Chapter Two


Bryony was right, I thought to myself as I picked over my wedding cake at the head table later that evening. Jackson Coles didn’t need to wear a tux. He was hot enough in his slim-cut black suit, like a picture from a fashion magazine. Which makes sense, I told myself, considering he has multiple endorsements and therefore models for fashion magazines on a regular basis. I had to bite back a giggle, feeling almost hysterical. From across the table Maria shot me an alarmed glance.

I really didn’t need her to tell me I was acting like a crazy person. Believe me, I was well aware. The fact that Jackson Coles was in this building, looking unimaginably attractive, had nothing to do with me. And while I saw several females in the general area peering at him over their dessert plates and giggling with their friends, it didn’t appear as if any of them were suffering from quite the level of discomposure that I was.

I couldn’t stop looking at him. He was like a homing beacon or something—every time I glanced up from my cake, my eyes automatically went in his direction. Of course, it didn’t help that he was seated directly in my line of sight. Or that his shock of golden hair was so distinctive in a room full of my dark-haired relatives. Regardless of the reasons, I found myself looking at him again and again over dinner and the subsequent cake.

And he was looking back.

No, that had to be my imagination. Or maybe he was only looking to see who the crazy staring girl was. But then why had he smiled at me a few moments ago? Had I imagined that? I must have. Gorgeous movie stars who make millions a year and date supermodels would not be smiling at bloated, pregnant commoners.

Right?

“Sofie,” Laura said at my side, and I immediately tore my gaze from the direction of Jackson’s table, a blush rushing to my face.

“What?”

She gave me a strange look, similar to the one Maria had given me a few moments earlier. “The waiter,” she said, as if it should have been obvious. Finally she pointed to the space over my shoulder. “Hello?”

I looked in the direction she was pointing, finally realizing that there was a waiter at my side attempting to clear my plate. I slid back in my chair to give him room, feeling embarrassed—and more than a little disappointed that I’d been too distracted to enjoy my cake.

“Are you okay?” Laura asked. “You’re acting all weird and jumpy.”

“I’m fine,” I said, my eyes automatically straying back to Jackson. Once again he appeared to be looking at me—there! That was definitely a smile in my direction.