“Spanking,” I said louder.
“Oh, I didn’t mention I was using your wooden spoon,” he said nonchalantly.
“What the fuck, Reece?! That can leave welts!”
“Oh, I know it,” he replied.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
He laughed. “I didn’t tell you I lived a BDSM lifestyle back in Baltimore?”
My heart plummeted. My breathing came faster. I pulled against my binds.
“Bailey?”
I couldn’t speak.
“Honey?”
I gulped.
“Baby love?”
A squeak escaped my lips.
“I’m just kidding.”
I dropped my face forward and buried it in the pillow. It popped right back up on the first blow.
“FUCK ME!” I roared.
“This is what happens when you fold your bra,” Reece said pleasantly. He spanked me again. Harder.
I screeched.
“Bailey, stop being so dramatic.” Another swat. Smack! Slap! Clap!
I wailed, the involuntary tears hovering in the corners of my eyes. If they spilled over, I’d never forgive myself.
“I’m gonna spank you raw, sweetheart,” Reece said, and assaulted me again.
I cried and hissed and screamed until I finally learned my lesson: Don’t fold your bra, and don’t ever let this man go.
***
It’s amazing how you can ride a heavenly high one minute, and plunge into the depths of hell the very next.
I had to meet my sister after Reece left that afternoon to finalize the bridesmaids dresses and start brainstorming ideas for wedding favors. What I really wanted to do was stay in bed all day with my hot lover and have him ask me questions about my OCD while he went down on me.
“Pay attention, Bailey!” Nicki snapped.
“I’m sorry. Look, we already went over this dress business weeks ago. Why are we rehashing it? I circled the dresses I liked.”
“Yeah, well, the other girls weren’t into them,” Nicki said.
I raised an eyebrow. “I’m the maid of honor. What does it matter what they want? Shouldn’t it be what looks best on me?”
“No,” Nicki replied. “That’s not how it works.” She swiped my glass of Coke and called our waitress over to pick it up, asking for a water instead.
“Oh my God! What the hell is wrong with you?” I barked. “I’m a grown ass woman.”
“Bailey, stop drinking sodas and alcohol, and I mean it! We’re heading into November, and that means the end of the year is almost here. And you know what that means? It means next year is right around the corner, and I’ll be walking down the aisle before all this shit gets done!” Nicki buried her face in her hands and burst into tears.
That was unexpected. I wasn’t quite sure what to do. My sister and I didn’t comfort each other. Hell, I couldn’t remember the last time we hugged. And this wasn’t the Nicki I knew. She didn’t cry about anything. I reached out my hand and patted awkwardly at her back.
“It’s okay,” I said softly. I looked around the restaurant, but no one paid any attention to us.
“I’m drowning!” she wailed.
“Aww, look at you. Making clever jokes,” I replied sweetly.
She raised her head off the table and scowled at me. “What are you talking about?”
“Beach wedding,” I said. “You’re . . . you’re having a beach wedding. Get it? You’re drowning in wedding details . . .” My voice trailed off as she glared at me.
“You think this is a joke?”
I shook my head violently.
“You think I’m crying over here for the fun of it?”
I kept shaking my head. It seemed like the safest thing to do.
“Do you have any idea the pressure I’m under right now? I already have family members bitching about their roles in my wedding, trying to boss me—”
“Nicki, nobody can boss you,” I interjected.
“—bullying me into making them important. Fuck Brad’s sisters. I’m sick of their whining and their opinions, and oh my God! Do you know one of them had the audacity to suggest a different color scheme?”
“Bitch,” I said, and Nicki’s face brightened.
“I know, right? She can do whatever she wants when she gets married, but for this wedding, she’s a lowly bridesmaid who’s gonna keep her fucking mouth shut. And if she can’t, then I’ll snatch her ass out of the wedding party faster than a virgin jizzes in a tight *.”
There was the Nicki I knew. Vulgar. So so vulgar. And in control of her destiny. No one was messing up this chick’s wedding, and I decided it wasn’t worth arguing about the dresses. I’d wear a paper bag if she wanted.
She wiped her face and took a deep breath. “I’m good. I’m good.”
I nodded and waited. Our waitress appeared with my water and took our orders. I was all set to get the cheeseburger and fries but changed to a Cobb salad at the last minute. I didn’t want anything else upsetting my sister, and I honestly thought my ordering a salad would make her feel better.
“Bacon, Bailey,” she scoffed when the waitress walked off.
I tried. I really did. But what’s the point of even telling her I made a better food choice—that I really wanted to sink my teeth into some ground beef instead? It would have just upset her more because I’m not taking her wedding seriously, and I don’t care about looking like a beached whale next to her.
“Vinaigrette. You need to be eating salads with vinaigrette dressing. Avocado-ranch? For real, Bailey? You might as well have just ordered a burger and fries!”
Fuck me.
“So, those wedding favors?” I asked.
Nicki grinned. “Little boxes filled with truffles.”
“Cute.”
“Wrapped in ribbon with fresh flowers on top.”
“Fresh flowers, huh? I don’t know, Nicki. That’s pricey.”
“Dad’s paying for it,” she replied.
Just like that: “Dad’s paying for it,” like, “Oh, chicken’s on sale at Kroger.”
“Nicki, Dad’s retired. Keep that in mind,” I said.
“I have a budget. Relax.”
“You also have to think about assembling. The flowers can’t go on until the night before the wedding,” I pointed out.