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I find myself feeding into the nonsense.
I know better. I really do. But right now I’m hurt and confused and upset.
Not to mention hungover.
I want to go back to my hotel and take a fucking nap and then just go home.
If you get married in another country, does it even count?I can just pretend this didn’t happen when I get back to the United States.
But part of me really wants to meet him.
Sober.
I want to see the real him. I want to know what was so special about him for me to decide to marry him.
“Percy!” someone shouts.
I ignore it.
“Persephone!” I hear.
God dammit, this is getting so irritating.
“Percy, we need answers!” the little fuck in front of me shouts.
I cock my hand back, ready to sucker punch this little asshole.
But as I put force behind my swing, I start moving backwards.
Panicked, I whip my head around.
Before I can even understand what’s going on, I’m in the back of a limo.
Anton’s limo.
And he’s sitting under me, face pulled into his most charming smile, ready for me.
It would appear I have some explaining to do.
But so the fuck does he.
