I gasp. “Did you spike my hot chocolate?”
“With…love?”
I hiss, “Alcohol.”
“No.”
Ah. Great. So. This all happened within the bounds of a sober mind.
Voice quivering, I sink down into my couch, which so conveniently happens to be placed right behind where I got married. Just now. “What were you thinking?”
He sits beside me. “Morana thinks she’s the problem. I’ll show her a real problem. I’ll out-problem her.”
I stare at him.
“That’s what I was thinking.” He tugs on my arm, sending my already off-balance body tumbling into him. “Try and burn this bridge, mistress. I’m crazy enough to rebuild it in the flames. Scared I’ll leave you?” A hollow laugh exits unsmiling lips. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re stuck in this cage with me, not the other way around. Got it?”
My heartthuds, and fragile breath whispers between my lips. “But…”
“I’ve already enlisted help to move you home tomorrow. I don’t want to hear a single complaint about it. I picked a great room that gives you lots of space to grow. Are you content to keep housewifing now that we’re married and you don’t need to worry about a job, or should I add creating chore charts to my to-do list for the week? I’m certain we can strong-arm the whole family into contributing.”
I brace a hand against his chest. “S-slow down…isn’t this all a little bit…much? I’m still not certain what’s happening. We’re…married. I’m…moving…tomorrow?”
“I imagine it’ll take a few days, but, yes, starting tomorrow, you’ll be moving. I’m bringing you home.”
Home. With…him. To the place that feels warm and safe and loving. To the place with my sister and my brothers.
“Until your liver gets the memo on how it feels about all this, you’ll have your own bed, so don’t worry about that.”
I have so many other things to worry about right now, actually.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
AmIokay? Me. The person who was just chilling in her bed watching YouTube until this lunatic barged in?
“If you need to textSTOP, I can message Peter and make sure the paperwork doesn’t file tomorrow morning. Then, it won’t be official.”
That pinches a nerve. “You’re really gonna go through all of this, then offer me an out?”
He thinks on that for a moment. “No, you’re right. You didn’t have to sayI do. It’s too late.” He smiles. “We’re married.”
We’re married.
He just married me. In my living room. After barging in unannounced, microwaving a rainbow marshmallow, and going through my things. He was so casual about it, too. How long did he have the magistrate waiting outside with my neighbors? At least an hour, right?
Heaven help me, he’s right.
I am stuck in this cage with him, not the other way around, and that really shouldn’t be comforting.
But it is.
Chapter 19
?
So, are these flowers where dirt used to be?
Morana
