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Throughout the entire rehearsal dinner, I keep my head down and push the food around on my plate without trying more than a few bites. My wine glass, on the other hand, empties and gets refilled much quicker, so that by the time the dessert arrives, I’m very tipsy. In my alcohol-induced semi-euphoria, I stop seeing why being with Archie would be wrong. Suddenly, the prospect of having sex with him tonight becomes much more attractive. So, when everybody begins to mingle and walk around the room, I get up as well, bringing my unfinished glass of wine with me. I wait for Archie to be alone by the pastry station—there’s a mini-desserts and fruit buffet—to saunter up to him.
“My room or yours?” I slur.
His eyes widen. “What?”
“I want to have sex. Should we do it in your room or mine?”
Archie frowns at the glass in my hands. “How much have you had to drink?”
I shrug. “A few glasses.”
“You’re drunk.”
“Am not. I want sex.”
“You’re in no position to make that decision tonight.”
“Want to discuss positions? Okay, I’m game. Up for something we haven’t tried yet?”
“I’m taking you to bed.”
I roll my eyes. “Finally.”
Archie tries to take the glass from me, but I snatch my hand away before he can grab it. The red liquid inside sloshes dangerously close to the rim, but stays in—mostly. I watch, mesmerized, as a few droplets fly out and land on the carpet, disappearing into the intricate pattern.
“What’s happening here?”
I look up from the floor to find my sister standing next to us, a fake, let’s-keep-up-appearances smile plastered on her lips.
“She’s drunk,” Archie says, just as I say, “We were about to go have sex.”
All pretend politeness washes out of my sister’s face as she glares at Archie. “You wouldn’t—”
He stops her before she can continue. “No, exactly, I wouldn’t. I’m taking your sister to her roomto sleep.And that’s it. You know me better than that.”
Winter gives him another hard, this-is-all-your-fault stare, but nods.
While I’m distracted, Archie successfully removes the glass from my hands and steers me toward the exit door.
I turn my head over my shoulder and wave at my sister. “Nighty, nighty.”
In my room, Archie undresses me until I’m stripped down to my underwear. I try to kiss him, but he fends off my attacks, his superior height proving determinant.
Then he picks me up as easily as if I were a child and deposits me into bed, tucking me under the covers. I tap the space next to me in what I hope is a seductive move.
Before he obliges me, Archie brings me a glass of water. He looks so broody, I drink like a good girl. He takes the empty glass from me and sits on the bed, but dressed and above the sheets, I note.
Still, this position allows me to hug him.
“Come on,” I say, wrapping my arms around his torso. “What are you waiting for? I want sex.”
“No, you don’t, trust me.”
I’m so tired of people telling me what I should and shouldn’t want, should or shouldn’t do. “And you’re a coward. Too much of a chicken to risk caring about someone other than yourself.”
“On that, you might be right, baby.” He drops a kiss on my forehead. “I’m scared.”
“Don’t call me baby.” I punch his chest, trying to pull back, but he keeps me in place with my face resting on his stupidly hard chest. “I’m not your baby. You hate babies. You’re a big, Viking, baby hater.”
