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“Make sure she eats,” I remind him. “Then bring my fiancée home.”
* * *
Curse seems to follow the second part of the instructions better than the first. Because less than one hour after hanging up, he does indeed bring her home. I’m just a little less sure on whether or not he successfully got her to eat enough. Or maybe she just started drinking too early. Because my Songbird, when she returns, is undeniably tipsy.
She can walk alright, I’ll give her that, as she comes back into the room, followed by my brother. But her freckled face is extremely flushed, her eyes glassy. And when she sees me, I shit you not, she fucking grins.
“Elio!”
Is this all I had to do to make her happy to see me? Get her drunk first?
Noted.
“Hey, Songbird,” I say as she flops down onto her ass beside me on the bed. “Heard you found a dress.”
Her cheeks are so red. I want to fucking bite them.
She waves away my words and doesn’t answer me, instead fixing me with a distinctly uncentred stare. “Did you stay in bed? And take your Tyle… tylemol?”
“I don’t know what the fuck a tylemol is, but I did take a Tylenol.” I look at Curse who’s standing in the doorway. “How much did she drink?”
“Less than Giulia and Valentina,” he responds, “but she didn’t start eating until after the first two glasses.”
My gaze returns to Deirdre.
“Bit of a lightweight, are you?” I ask her, smirking.
“Pfft!” she folds her arms across her chest. “I won’t be for long. I’m gonna need to drink a lot to deal with being married to you.”
I’m rendered momentarily speechless, not because I’m offended by what she’s said. Far from it. But because this is the first time she’s admitted that she’s marrying me.
Before I can wrap my slow brain around a response to that, she bops up onto her cute little feet and shuffles away into the other bedroom. Soon, I hear water running from the other room’s adjoining bathroom.
“Did you fucking hear that?” I croak at Curse. “About marrying me?”
I’m suddenly paranoid that I imagined it. That it was some fucking hallucination.
But Curse confirms it with a casual, “Yup.” He cracks his knuckles. “Bit of a different tune from what she was singing in the car though.”
“Why? What was she saying?”
“Just that she didn’t plan on marrying you.”
“Yeah, well, what else is new,” I grunt back at him. “Been hearing that since I told her we’re engaged.”
“Not now, though. You know what they say. In vino veritas.”
“Booze makes you honest. Yeah. Yeah…”
I break off slowly, pondering what he’s said, when he suddenly turns my fucking world upside down with a single fucking sentence.
“She also said she’s falling for you.”
My gaze turns blade-like, slicing to him.
“What the fuck did you just say?”
“In the car,” Curse goes on. “Valentina said something like, ‘I think you’re falling for him.’ And she said, ‘I know.’”
