I feel him glancing at the ring on my finger.
“We were just over, and I thought you’d be more upset or at least wait awhile before going out with someone. I’m hurt that he’s someone I know.” He hangs his head. “Did you plan on meeting him at the motel in the desert?”
I glance at Jane in the window. She’s holding the axe. Jesus.
The less I tell him, the better. “I never cheated on you, Kian. Sometimes it takes meeting the wrong person to find the right one.”
He stands to his feet as he drinks in my features. “Baby. That bullshit doesn’t sound like you. We had something good.”
I narrow my eyes. “We weren’t right for each other, or you wouldn’t have been tracking my phone. You would have had more respect for me. And you never would have choked me. Also, don’t leave flowers here. Don’t be following me down the street. We’re over. You know it. I know it. Graham knows it.”
“I still love you, baby. Don’t marry him,” he says fervently as he takes my hand. I jerk back at the zap of fear that dances up my spine. I guess it will always be there when I encounter him.
Jane exits the store, axe in hand. “Let her go, motherfucker.”
“I do love you. I really do!” He gives me one last longing look, then drops my hand and stalks away.
She slides in next to me, both of us watching his back as he turns the corner.
Jane sighs. “I’m mad at you right now for even talking to him.”
“Hopefully not enough to axe me?”
Her shoulders release the tension she was carrying. “Meh. I guess not. It is your wedding day, and I’d hate to get blood on that dress; plus, you did give me a steady job. I’m actually really hungry. How about a cookie before you tie yourself to Graham?”
“I’ll have to be careful in this dress.”
“Oatmeal raisin. Fresh from the oven.”
“Deal.” We link our arms together and walk back into the store.
“So,” she says as we head to the kitchen, “are you going to let him dip his stick tonight?”
“Excuse me?”
She smirks. “Technically, you aren’t really married until you consummate the union. Do you want me to draw you a diagram?”
“I know how sex works, smart-ass, but it’s a marriage of convenience.”
“Well, it was awfully convenient to let him finger-bang you, so . . .”
I glare at her. “That was different. It just happened. It won’t again.”
“Uh-huh.”
“What?”
She gives me a serious look as she sets down her cookie and takes my hands. “Taking care of us is who you are, and this is part of that—I get it, I do—but if he turns out to be a troll, just come back home.”
Chapter 18
GRAHAM
“Civil ceremonies are so boring,” Brody grouses as he adjusts my tie in my dressing room in my apartment.
He pouts as he finishes the final touches. He tries to fix my hair, and I slap his fingers away. “You’re not doing my hair.”
He cocks his head. “How about some mascara?”
“Not today.” I smirk.
“Fine. Are you sure I can’t come? I really want to be there. I’ll be so good. I’ll get behind a plant or stand in the corner. I won’t make a peep. Please,” he begs as he follows me into the bedroom, where I slip my dress shoes on.
I stand in front of the floor-length mirror and brush the lint off my three-piece suit. “No.”
He plops on my bed, spreading out like a starfish as he grunts his disapproval. “All you say is no. You’re mean. You should be wearing fucking Prada. You need a cathedral. Or a beach. Anywhere but the courthouse.”
I ignore him.
He swivels his head so he can watch me put on my watch. “I’m still processing your prenup. I can’t believe—okay, well, maybe I can because you’re generous—but holy shit, you’re actually giving her money after the big divorce. And let’s be honest. You bought that store for her. You may have told yourself it was a good investment or that I might want it, but I’m not so sure.” He jumps up off the bed, looking amazingly unruffled as every hair settles in place.
“Stop trying to cause drama.”
He puts his hands on his hips. “I’m flummoxed because you’re being so good to her.” A sly expression flits over his face. “Hate to break it to you, big brother, but I’m starting to think you might care about the little thief.”
I arch a brow. “Please.”
He follows me out into the hall and through to the kitchen area. “That’s right. I said it. ‘Care.’ You like her. You think she’s sexy. You like her personality. You want to marry her—”
“Did you get the things I asked for?”
“The boutonniere is on the counter.”
“Did you get the peonies?”
He nods. “Hmm. I did. I’m also wondering why you insisted on them.”
I hear him making a hooting noise and turn to see that he’s stopped at the formal parlor. With cheetah wallpaper. It’s one of those rooms that will need attention at some point. “I can’t believe you,” he calls out as he snickers.
“What? The room came that way. I’ll redo it eventually.”
“It’s not the horrible wallpaper, dear brother, it’s the cat litter box.” He sends me a wild look. “Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?”
“Not a big deal. Magic won’t be here long. And it is kind of a cat room. Look at the wallpaper.”
“And you know its name!”
“So?” I put my hands on my hips.
“When you were eight and I was five, a big tomcat from the neighborhood ambushed us on the steps of the brownstone after school. That cat was in full-on attack mode—I’m talking flat airplane ears, claws out, growling and hissing, with its whole body shivering. It was swatting and batting and pouncing around you like a damn tiger. It may have had rabies. You nearly peed your pants.”
“You exaggerate.”
He lets out a long whistle. “You really like her. Shit. Wow. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you are marrying her, so maybe, just maybe, she is, like, the one—”
Cutting him off, I grab the items I need and say, “Let yourself out, and don’t forget to pick us up for the party.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got everything planned. Happy wedding day. Kiss her real good. With tongue,” he calls out as I slam the door.
Chapter 19
EMMY
When things fell apart around me, like the time I didn’t make the newspaper staff or when I found out my college boyfriend was cheating on me, Gran always told me to breathe, that this part of my life was just a prologue, and I had many other chapters to go. She promised me that good things awaited me in my story, regardless of who or what my parents had done. Ultimately, she said it was up to me. To go forth with my hopes up, to say yes when I shouldn’t, and to live like it was my last day.