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“There’s literally nothing romantic or funny about any of it, but, please,” I mutter. “Elaborate.”

“I mean, it’s kinda perfect that you met while hunting the same piece of shit?” He chuckles. “I mean, isn't it?”

My brow knits. “We are talking about the same fucking psychopath, right?”

“C’mon, Dame,” he sighs. “She’s not mailing anthrax to government buildings or anything. She kills objectively monstrous fuckers, just like you do. Plus, I mean, not to be weird about your future wife, but… She’s hot.” He frowns. “I mean, you know, in a very niche way.”

“She’s a nightmare, Cenzo.”

“Nightmare or not, that’s a nice ass. Cute face, too. I bet those tits are⁠—”

“Down, boy,” I growl.

He holds his hands up. “Sorry. I’m done.”

Outstanding , is what those tits are.

Not that I’m going to tell him that.

“And on top of all that, you met her while you were both taking down the same sack of shit? I honestly don’t see what your problem is with any of this.”

“Aside from her being a stabby little psycho, you mean?”

He rolls his eyes. “You already said she only goes after the same sick fucks you do. It’s not like she’s not gonna stab you.”

Wanna bet?

I glare at him. “When I said she’s like me, I meant in the way two people might have the same medical diagnosis. Beyond that, she is nothing like me.”

He shakes his head as he faces out toward the campus and takes another puff. Then the motherfucker starts grinning like a dickhead.

“What?” I grunt.

He sighs dramatically. “Nothing. I’m just…you know…” He turns to grin broadly at me. “Thinking about how romantic it is.”

I flip him off again.

He laughs and raises the joint like he’s making a toast. “To the happy couple.”

“Eat shit.”

“To Mr. And Mrs. Barone!”

“I swear, I will push you off this fucking roof.”

He takes one last puff of the joint and exhales the smoke in a thin plume.

“God, this marriage is going to be incredible.”

“Nope.”

Bella doesn’t bother to look up from whatever she’s drawing or writing in her notebook before I've even uttered a word.

My brow furrows. “What?”

“I said nope,” she shrugs, still not looking up.

I scowl as she continues to move the pen around the page.