“So… you’re going to ignore him?”
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t sound very healthy.”
“I don’t care if it is or isn’t. I’m not pouting?—”
“You sure about that?” I flash him a warning look that has him raising his hands and blurting: “Truce!”
“Truce, my ass,” I grouch. “And I’m not. He’s the one who’s pouting and I refuse to deal with that bullshit. I’m the brat in our relationship. Not him.”
He barks out a laugh. “Well, at least you’re self-aware enough to understand your limits.”
I grab a throw pillow and use it for its intended purpose—throwing at him.
“Your violent tendencies are on the rise. I wonder if getting married has made you more bloodthirsty.”
“Yes. It has. So watch yourself,” I coo.
“Okay, okay. What happened, then? You guys have never been the best at communicating. You know, what with him always sending body parts to do the talking…”
I grimace because he’s not wrong. “Maybe that’s part of the problem. I’m just in no mood to take any of his shit.”
“I thought it’d be the opposite.”
“What? Why?”
“After you owned Alec, I figured you’d be humping him as soon as you set your sights on him.” His eyebrow waggle. “Even I found it hot, and it’s illegal to find my cousin/sister sexy.”
“Firstly, ew. Secondly, I do not hump.” At his smirk, I flip him the bird. “Thirdly, I didn’t appreciate his tone.”
“You spoke?”
“We texted.”
“Vicky, you can’t decipher tone in a text message. It’s literally text with zero nuance. Unless he uses emojis. He doesn’t seem the type… Does he use them?”
“Not really.”
“Well, then. How did you read into his tone when it’s literally words on a screen?”
“I just could.”
“Sounds rational to me.”
Swiping through the messages, I toss my phone at him. “There. You tell me what you think.”
He reads the texts and whistles. “Okay, yeah. I get why you’re mad. Doesn’t seem like him. But then, he’s probably under a lot of pressure. You getting married will have shaken things up, and then there’s the fact that he’s looking for whoever intercepted your dress and chasing down that fucker of a detective?—”
“You will be defunding the police, won’t you?” I interject, grateful that I offloaded the (sanitized) deets about last weekend onto him.
“Definitely.” His smile’s sharklike. “Anyway, he has several douches to find.”
“I don’t care if he does. I’m his wife. Not his verbal punching bag.” I tip up my chin. “If I learned anything from your dad and uncles, it’s knowing how to be treated like a queen and accepting that anything less than that is not an option.”
Shay scratches his head. “That’s a lot to live up to.”
“Don’t I deserve it?”
