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“There’s nothing worse than a woman scorned. You just triggered that inside me.” She tugged on my hand again. “Come on. I want this done. We don’t have to consummate things tonight, or tomorrow or whatever, butyouwill take my virginity, Digger. This is fate.”
“Is this the equivalent of dancing on someone’s grave?” I asked, amused by the fire in her eyes.
“Nope, it’s the equivalent offuckingon someone’s grave.”
Weird as it was, I could get behind that too. Especially when that grave belonged to that fucker of a sperm donor of mine.
16
MARYCAT
It wasnothing like I imagined my wedding would be.
Nothing.
I didn’t wear a white dress; I had no attendants.
It was pitch black outside, and I could hear the cheers from a drunken party just beyond the chapel in a busy bar that was rammed to the hilt.
There was no Father Doyle preaching about marriage being the cornerstone of society with the same speech he used at every service—at least, every service I’d ever attended, and that had to be in the hundreds by now.
No bridesmaids were crying about their shitty dresses; I didn’t have a corsage or a bouquet in my hands.
Instead, I was serenaded by the infamous nightly fireworks display from the Gallinaro as the Grinch married us—complete with a green face, big pointy ears, and a Santa suit that really was the cherry on the sundae.
As we said, ‘I do,’ the relief that hit me was real.
When this guy was the only one available at that moment, Digger had offered to drive us elsewhere, but I just wanted this over.
I also wanted a room for the night to sleep in, no funny business.
Maybe that was why my laughter was a little more hysterical than it should have been as Digger carefully pushed the ring onto my finger. Then, he did the damnedest thing.
Something that made my heart twang in my chest.
That made my ovaries sing.
That made every dream of a fairy-tale wedding pale in comparison.
He raised my hand and kissed the ring. His lips touched either side of the simple platinum band that I’d argued was far too expensive, and I felt that simple caress down to my core.
When he looked at me, his mouth still on my hand, I rasped, “If you don’t want me to fall in love with you, James Dane—” I’d just learned his real name. “—then you need to stop doing things like that.”
A twinkle appeared in his eyes. “Who says I don’t want you to fall in love with me?”
Piqued enough for my fatigue to lessen, I twisted my hand in his then plastered myself against his chest in a move I’d learned in dance class—who said the waltz had no place in modern society?
With our bodies brushing, my face tilted up as I stared at him, I breathed, “Love is dangerously contagious.”
And the forced proximity we’d had and would have over the upcoming week wouldn’t help matters.
“Is that a warning or a promise?”
“It could be both.”
That twinkle morphed into something I could only describe as glee.
Did that mean he wanted me to catch feelings for him?
