I stare at the black waterfall skirt leading up to a high-necked bodice with billowing lace sleeves. I say, “No.”
He searches for a tag, clicks his tongue, and mutters, “Maelin,” then begins attempting to assess the size visually. “I think it fits.”
I know it fits.
Sometimes, I put it on and sit in the fluff while I stare at my unused jewelry. I stare hard at my video right now. “No, you’re mistaken.”
“I’m not mistaken. Put it on for me.”
I gape. Put it onforhim? First of all, exactly how many bullets is he putting in the barrel of the gun we’re using for Russian roulette tonight? Andsecond of all, I am in my pajamas! I am in mybed. It’s almost midnight!
He extends the garment with unwaveringspoiled youngestenergy. I counter it withperturbedspoiled youngest energy. He lifts his chin, claiming a detached royal air. “Oh, so you hate me?”
“Ugh.” Shoving my dirty dishes onto whatever surface of my nightstand I can, I throw my blankets off and grab the dress. Standing there, an inch from him, I hiss, “This better be worth my time.”
“I will make it so very worth your time.”
Rolling my eyes, I head to my bathroom and put on the stupid dress.
?
I find myself leaving the bathroom in my frilly dress and stopping short at the sight of three complete strangers standing in my living room. Horrified, I scan my home’s mess, their weirdlychillsmiles, and…Kyran. “Are you actually insane?” I snap.
With disinterested boredom, he presents each person, “Peter, Lisa, Geoff. Peter is our town magistrate.”
“Huh?” I blurt.
“Lisa and Geoff are your neighbors. I bribed them three hours ago.”
Lisa, a kind-looking middle-aged woman, sets a hand to her heart. “It’s so nice to formally meet you, Morana.”
“Oh, uh.” I swallow theinsanity, and dip my chin. “You…too?”
Peter—the oldest gentleman here—sniffs, opening a binder. “Well, shall we begin?”
“Yes, of course. It is late.” Kyran coughs, glances at me, then makes a fervent motion to indicate that I should be beside him and it’s crazy that I’m not.
Crazy.
Imagine that.
I’llshowhim crazy.
I stomp up to him, and he grabs my hand.
“Ah-ahem.” Peter smiles warmly at us, eyes crinkling in the corners as though he isn’t one million years old and up an age past his bedtime. “We are gathered here tonight to join Kyran Bachelor and Morana Brook in marriage.”
In slow motion, I drag my aghast gaze toward Kyran.
Peaceful, he holds my hand and pays reverent attention.
“Kyran Bachelor, do you take Morana Brook to be your lawful spouse?”
“I do.”
The man’s attention hits me like a bus. “Morana Brook, do you take Kyran Bachelor to be your lawful spouse?”
I crush Kyran’s hand. “Wha…”
