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“Good thinking,” he says. He glances at me as we round the corner. “Why didn’t you bring the G.I. Joe guy?”
A snort escapes me. “Tank?
“Do you know several adult men named after G.I. Joes?”
There’s no sign of Charlie and Eden, so presumably they continued on to the courtroom to give us some privacy.
“I haven’t gotten around to telling him yet,” I mutter.
“You think Romeo’s going to get upset?”
I roll my eyes. “I told you he’s just a friend.”
He’s quiet for a step, then he says, “You ask all your friends over for slumber parties?”
I almost laugh, because I’d hoped he’d forgotten that, but of course he didn’t. Shane is like Mrs. Longhorn—he picks up on damn near everything I’d prefer for him not to notice.
Since it’s none of his business what happened that night, I deflect. “You don’t get to control my life or my friendships, Vain.” There’s more venom behind it than I meant to add—venom more rightly directed toward Rand, who hurt my friendship with Tank. “This is a business deal.”
Shane gives me another sidelong look, his gaze beating into me in a way that makes my blood boil. I can’t tell whether it’s because I’m angry or…something else. “Sure,” he finally comments. “But no more sleepovers. We need to maintain appearances.”
I could point out that we don’t live together, which will undoubtedly look stranger than me spending time with an old friend, but it’s not worth the wasted breath. “Fine,” I say. “No dating and no sleepovers for either of us.”
There’s an edge of amusement to his smile as he nods. “Jealous?”
“As if. You’re the one who has your panties in a twist about someone I’ve known since kindergarten.”
“Speaking of people we’ve known since kindergarten. When are we going to ‘get around’ to telling Danny?” he asks. “It felt shitty, lying to him.”
I don’t like the way he said that—like he only kept quiet because of me, because I’m dishonest.
“I didn’t stop you from telling him,” I say. “If you’d asked me yesterday, I would have told you to go for it.”
We bickered all our way through getting the marriage license, so I suppose it tracks that we’re bickering on our way down the aisle.
His jaw tightens. “He’s not going to get mad at you.”
“Are you kidding me?” I ask as we turn another corner. I can see it at the end of the hall—the door of the room in which my legal status will change, once again, from single to married. For the brief months it lasts. A pulse of sadness moves through me, settling around my heart. I try to shake it off, but it’s as persistent as Flower when she gets ahold of one of my shoes. “He gets mad at me all the time.”
“But if he gets mad at you, he’ll forgive you. He may not forgive me.”
I’m taken aback, because there appears to be real vulnerability behind the comment—as if he’s afraid he might lose Danny. I’ve always figured he sees my brother as a chain, holding him back. But maybe I got it wrong, or just didn’t get it entirely right. Relationships are complex. You can love someone and resent them. Want them in your life and feel desperate for them to leave.
You can be desperate for them to like you even if you don’t like them.
“He’ll forgive you,” I say as we come to a stop in front of the door. My heart is pumping faster again, adrenaline threading through my veins, because we’re doing something wrong. Even though I still feel conflicted about it, it’s kind of…fun.
There, I said it. I feel like a naughty high school student skipping classes so I can smoke with the older kids behind the bleachers. And yes, I was that naughty high school kid.
“I’ll make sure he does,” I add.
He smiles at me, and if there’s a hint of condescension in it—of, sure you will—then I’m not going to call him on it at this precise moment.
“Let’s get married, kid,” he says.
I roll my eyes at him as he reaches for the door, but I can’t totally hold back a smile.
Chapter Thirteen
