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As a surge of black-clad bodies rushes at me, I clear my throat and say loudly and confidently, “It’s all good. He’s fine. He’s faking it. This is just a joke.”
Lennox stops at the front of the surge of brothers and goons—I really shouldn’t think of them as goons anymore, I guess. They’re actually much nicer—and then he holds out his hands. He’s got the bottle of whisky that Alden brought in a few minutes ago gripped in his right hand.
“He should have had that shot,” he says cheerfully before tipping the bottle back and proceeding to take one on Alden’s behalf. He’s obviously not a stingy guy because, after that, he goes straight for the tray and starts pouring two fingers into glasses for everyone.
“I think he might really be out,” Ransom protests when he bends down and runs a hand over Alden’s face, starting with his forehead and stopping at his jaw.
Something stirs in my gut when he does that, something that wishes those were my fingers running along the hard planes and silky skin of Alden’s face, but then the JP clears his throat and takes a step back, snaps his black binder shut, and looks at me anxiously. Me. Like I can fix all this.
“What about smelling salts?” Atlas asks.
“No, slap him,” Orion insists.
Scarlet bends down by Alden’s head. She lightly taps his cheek with her palm. There’s obviously nothing, and I have to hand it to him. He’s really good at faking because he actually does kind of look like he’s out cold. His eyes aren’t even twitching. Bravo. I wonder if Scarlet had her boys take acting classes before she thrust them into the world and let them go at it, all while maintaining the huge secret that they’re a big band of kind of, sort of, not really criminals. I wish I had another word for that too. Right, anti-heroes. Her big band of anti-heroes.
Scarlet pats harder, this time smacking the other cheek. I sigh. I’m getting impatient. If only to have this done. The JP is giving me serious I-want-to-get-the-fuck-out-of-here vibes, and I really don’t want to have to go through the whole trouble of getting someone else in here, delaying the inevitable. Part of me says that’s not true, and if I got to spend another night with Alden, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing, but it’s only the lonely, desperate, sad part of me that has spent too many nights alone at home curled up with a book instead of with a living being. Alright, so it was all of me. I guess parts and halves aren’t my strong suit, but being someone who always loved English and reading, math was never something I was overly fond of. I was good at it, don’t get me wrong, but when I didn’t understand it and got frustrated…then, well. Tears. Tears, my friends. So many tears.
“Alden.” I step forward and nudge his toe with the tip of the white heels that I was given to pair with the dress. The dress. Yes, that sure was a massive surprise. I don’t know how Scarlet got the perfect fit. I suppose it has something to do with being amazing at getting into all the nooks and crannies where people don’t want her to get in. Maybe online. She probably has an eye for detail. That’s what I’m trying to say. “It’s time to stop faking now. It’s really not that funny. We need to get the dang program going. You were all for it. The program, I mean. Plus, your granny is going to give you a good smack if you don’t open your eyes right this minute.”
Scarlet winds up. Well, I can’t say Alden wasn’t warned. I glance at the crowd, and Alden’s brothers are clearly barely containing their glee. Even his men look like they want to see how this plays out.
“It’s coming,” I warn Alden. “She’s got her hand back there. It looks like a doozy. Think of those national slapping competitions. Those guys have nothing on your granny. She looks like she means it. Three. Two. One…”
Waaaabloooey!
That’s the sound of flesh meeting flesh, Scarlet’s palm connecting with Alden’s cheek. The kind of bamboozling smack I was talking about. Alden’s face actually rebounds, and his lips wobble as if it’s happening in slow motion.
“Shit,” I breathe. “I guess he really is out cold. Or he’s the faker of the century.”
“Nope, out cold,” Lennox confirms happily. He holds out his glass, and I realize everyone is holding glasses now. “Cheers!”
The JP shoots me yet another panicked look as the guys start downing whisky first thing in the morning while the groom is flat-out finished. He looks totally confused while I just stand there. What can I do? If that smack didn’t accomplish anything, what more am I going to add? I really wish I’d had this opportunity when I first met Alden, back when I was still mad at him. Back then, it would have been a lot of fun. Now? Yeah, not nearly so much.
