Just enough.
“Besides,” she continues, “Father Peter handled it.”
“Handled it how?”
“He basically threatened the poor man with you.”
I bark out a laugh.
“Smart priest.”
“He told him my fiancé was the jealous type with a reputation for punching men who didn’t respect my boundaries.”
“Also accurate.”
“KAI!”
I can't help it.
I'm laughing now.
Hard.
Because somewhere in the middle of all this insanity, it seems Father Peter apparently decided to unleash me on the unsuspecting male population of Verona.
“God, you make me laugh, Firecracker,” I wheeze.
“Kai!” Mary whines, and that’s cute, too.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” I say, but I have no idea what I’m supposed to be sorry for.
“I thought you’d be angry, horrified, pissed at me!”
“But I’m not angry or horrified, Baby. And I’m definitely not pissed at you.”
“You aren't?”
“No.”
A pause.
Then she asks quietly,
“Why not?”
Because I started this whole damn thing.
Well, damn.
I should probably tell her.
“Remember when you were so upset about the article in the paper and I went to talk to Father Peter?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“Well, I may have given him the idea that you and I were caught kissing like that because we were, uh, celebrating.”
“Celebrating? Celebrating what?”
