Page 27 of Be My Bride


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I’m naked.

We’re married.

And we’re in bed.

This all feels too crazy.

Too intimate.

Too… weird.

“What’s wrong?” he presses.

“I think… I recorded what we did last night.”

“What?” He scrambles over.

His strong chest hovers over me. The scent of cologne and vodka wafts from his body.

He’s close enough that I can see the texture of my lipstick stains on his skin.

It’s a dark maroon.

Looks great on my skin.

Looks sexy on his.

The stains spell a raunchy story.

They paint a journey starting from his abs.

Down.

Down.

Down.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

Please let this be a nightmare I wake up from.

Hansley takes the phone from me and curses. “You’re right. It’s us.”

“Let me see.”

He turns the screen around and flashes the picture at me.

I gasp as I watch my drunken smile. I’m kissing Hansley’s cheek and he’s tipping his chin up to the camera like a football player who scored his first winning touch down. My hand is up at the camera, flashing the ring he bought.

Underneath the picture is a caption.

So happy to be Mrs. Hansley Nicholas.

My eyes roll back in my head and I wilt against the pillows. “Tell me this isn’t happening. Tell me our drunken wedding pictures didn’t go viral.”

“That’s us at Venus’s wedding.” He swipes his thumb. “That’s you with the bouquet.” Swipe. "Elvis.” His head bounces up. His voice gets more frustrated. “Us again. More of Elvis.” Swipe. “Why the hell did you take a selfie of everything?”

“I don’t know.”

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