“Right?”
But all April’s words have done is highlight how strange my own reaction was when Sid told me the news. She heard about my impending freedom and was immediately happy. So why do I still have this unsettled bubble in my stomach?
Once I’m trussed up to April’s satisfaction, she unlocks the door, though doesn’t let me through. There’s a lot of whispering and sniggering. She reappears, clutching a bundle of heather tied up with—I suspect—another piece of the pillowcase on my head. The ends of the bow are frayed, but it’s undeniably a bouquet.
“We’re ready.” She beams at me. “Just walk down the stairs. James took care of the rest.”
This is so ridiculous. I only agreed because it annoyed Sid. I bet he didn’t let James pressure him into dressing up. There’s no way his lips taste weirdly of beets right now. But I step out, because Carlos made a cake, damn it.
Sid isn’t wearing makeup, but he does look different. The five o’clock shadow is gone from his jaw and he sports a black jacket to match the top hat. Very smart.
I grin and close the door behind me. At the sound of the latch, he turns to look at me. And swallows.
For a second, I’m frozen. James starts strumming his guitar as the other boys cheer. One wolf whistles, but I don’t see who, because Sid has not blinked since locking eyes with me.
My whole body explodes with heat. What idiot said itwas too cold for a sundress? I’m burning up. Unfortunately, that means I’m flushed across my boobs, which he’s never seen so prominently displayed before. Or my shoulders. Or my arms. Or my calves. Shit, there is a lot of me available and he cannot stop staring.
“Go on, Kayla.” April prods me in the ribs and I stumble gracelessly down the first step. Automatically, Sid reaches out, and instead of catching myself on the railing, it’s his hand that guides me down the stairs. I’m shaking as I draw in front of him, like we did in the courthouse. Only now, Silas is officiating, still decked out in the Santa hat.
He’s wearing the only serious expression in the entire party. Well, him and Sid, who is putting a lot of work into breathing right now.
Silas doesn’t bother with most of the ceremony. He simply raises his arms like a preacher and says, “By the power vested in me as Lord of all Christmas, I pronounce you man and wife. Now, kiss the bride.”
“Kiss the bride! Kiss the bride!” everyone chants, including April. James even changes the rhythm of the chords he’s strumming to keep time. “Kiss the bride! Kiss the bride!”
“Sid,” I whisper. “You know you have to.”
Another swallow. But he nods and leans in. I reach for his neck and his hand closes around my waist, lifting me towards him. I’ve barely registered the surprise at his touch—warm through the thin cotton dress—when our mouths meet. The boys erupt into cheers, but the din is nothing next to the blood pounding in my ears.
It isn’t a long kiss. Why should it be? Just long enough for his lips to part against mine. Long enough that I twist my head to get a better angle. My tongue brushes against his and my belly swirls. He nips softly at my lip.
Just a short kiss. And as I land back on my heels, Icould almost kiss James, too, because Sid tastes of mint instead of the cigarettes. Well, that and…
Sid reaches up, touches his mouth. “You… had this sweet flavor? Like…”
“Beetroot?” I supply.
“Oh, that’s it.” He laughs, and the tension in my chest releases. Maybe that whole rabbit in a snare act he gave me on the stairwell was nerves. James probably told him he had to kiss me and as Sid made clear earlier, he doesn’t want to do that.
But thatswallow.
I’m overthinking this. Sid isn’t attracted to me—the woman who fired a slingshot at him. And why would I want him to be? I’ve got no interest in pursuing him because I’m never risking what happened with Curtis again and—
Curtis.
It truly hits me that I’ve kissed another man three times now. Even if there were good reasons every time, I’m a traitor.
“As the lady requested, a first dance!” James starts a tune with a slow, plucked accompaniment. “Please enjoyThe First Time Ever I Saw Your Face, arrange ment courtesy of the Gordon Lightfoot songbook I snagged at the exchange last week.”
His tenor is a perfect, folksy warble. It’s not a song I’ve heard before, but immediately, I love it.
“Come on.” Sid tugs my hand. I follow him to a spot beyond the ring of plastic chairs and overturned logs. The field of grain sways gently behind us, dancing along in the faint autumn breeze. It’s beautiful—romantic, even. More than I ever dreamed of getting in a wedding. Except…
Sid puts his hand on my back. It’s everything I could wish for—but with the wrong man. My legs are leaden, and he shifts his grip so that my spine bends the direction he wants me to go in. “Just follow my lead.”
“You know how to dance?”
He smiles, extra roguish with that broken nose. My skin tingles where his thumb presses above the dress’s neckline. “Stay here long enough, and you get to learn a lot of things.”
