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“I know better than to fall asleep in my office chair.” He stretches his arms over his head. “My back is fucked.”
“You owe a hundred to the fund,” I mumble.
“I owe a hell of a lot more than a hundred.” He huffs out a chuckle. “You heard me fighting with that glitter cannon, didn’t you? I must have let a few choice words escape when it fell on the floor.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. There are enough clues to piece together the mystery of what Keats did last night and this morning, but I don’t want to put in the effort.
Maybe this is why Jamie came to work late some days.
Glancing up, I force a smile. “I’ll get to work. I’ll put together a few options for your honeymoon so you can choose one. Oh, and congratulations to you and your wife.”
He laughs, tossing his head back. “What the fuck, Maren? You think I got married?”
“Two hundred,” I say while my cheeks bloom pink in embarrassment. “You said I should book a luxury honeymoon. You’re dressed in a tuxedo. You didn’t have pants on when I got here, and you have an empty bottle of champagne and a glitter cannon in your office.”
“Woah.” He holds up his palm, and I get a glimpse of something written in black ink.
I tilt my head to read it, but he drops his hand to his side. “I officiated a wedding at midnight. I came back here with the happy couple to notarize their wedding certificate. The groom was carrying a magnum of champagne. He spilled half the fucking bottle on my pants, so I took them off the second the newlyweds left.”
I nod, not wanting to say anything to interrupt his train of thought.
He stares at me for a second before he sighs. “I used to keep an extra pair of pants in the cabinet behind my desk. I was looking for those when I found the glitter cannon. It was supposed to be a gift for Stevie’s birthday, but my brother told me no way. Anyways, I must have worn the spare pair of pants home one day and forgot to bring them back.”
I don’t have words, so I keep listening.
He exhales sharply. “I accidentally knocked the cannon out of the cabinet when I was searching for the pants and glitter went everywhere. I kicked it and whatever was left inside of it shot me in the face.”
As if on cue, another sprinkle of glitter rains from his hair onto his nose and cheeks.
“I need to get someone in here to clean up that fucking mess.” He motions toward the door of his office. “I know, three hundred. I owe three hundred goddamn dollars. Four now.”
I bite back a laugh. “So, you’re not married?”
His eyes widen. “Heck, no.”
Something inside of me relaxes. “How often do you officiate weddings?”
Scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck, he shrugs. “Whenever I need to. The couple I married last night was eager to make it happen before their twins arrive.”
“Twins?” I swallow hard. “That’s a lot.”
“They’ll handle it.” He half-laughs. “We’ve been friends since high school. They work at his family’s diner on the Lower East Side. I stop in there whenever I’m craving a plate of fries and a greasy cheeseburger.”
He swats his hand against his hair to knock more glitter loose. “They’ve never charged me for a meal, so when Brandi and Chuck said they were planning on heading to City Hall to tie the knot next week, I told them I’d do it whenever they wanted.”
“They wanted it immediately?” I smile.
“The sooner the better, they said.” He brushes his fingertips over the lapel of his jacket, chasing away some glitter. “They already had their marriage license, so we decided to do it after the diner closed. I went home and threw on my tux. I picked up some flowers on my way back, and sealed the deal at the stroke of midnight.”Chapter 12MarenTo think I was in bed by ten last night and at that time, Keats was still hours away from officiating a last-minute wedding at a diner. My boss doesn’t live a boring life.
“I’m going to run home to shower and change before I get down to business.” Keats tosses me a grin. “I’ll drop this tux off at the dry cleaners on my way back. I need it next week.”
There’s a question begging to be asked, but I’m sure in time I’ll find out if he’s marrying another couple next week or if the need for his tux is because of something else.
“I’ll arrange to have your office cleaned,” I offer because it’s my job and because I haven’t forgotten that he’s paying me a ridiculous amount of money to be his assistant.
“I think we need to call in some big guns to take care of the glitter cannon clusterfuck in my office. The vacuum cleaner that the building’s cleaning crew has is too lightweight for this job.”
