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“It was my gram’s,” I confessed awkwardly. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to give her a secondhand ring. It wasn’tlike I was hurting for money. I could’ve bought her something else, nothing too big, but new.
“Really?” Esther asked, her eyes lighting up as she looked back at the ring. “That’s awesome.”
“If you want somethin’ else—”
“No way,” she said, cutting me off as she closed her hand into a fist and clutched it to her chest. “This one’s mine.”
“Okay,” I conceded, lifting one hand in surrender. “Keep it.”
“I will,” she said firmly. She looked over her shoulder at the rowdy crowd, currently jostling for food and generally causing chaos. “Should we go mingle, husband?” The last word was tentative, like she was testing it out.
“Let’s do it.”
We made our way into the crowd and spent the next couple of hours visiting and eating and accepting congratulations from everyone we talked to. Not for the first time, I was grateful for my people. Not just family, but the entire club had shown up for my wedding, and every single one of them congratulated us. There were no sidelong looks at Esther’s belly or knowing looks at me reminding us that our wedding hadn’t exactly been planned. They were just stoked to be there and happy for us, no matter what the circumstances were—at least outwardly. I was thankful for that, especially when I realized that Esther had stopped trying to shield the front of her dress and was comfortable enough to spin slowly in a circle, arms loosely at her sides, showing it off to my gramps as he made noises of appreciation.
Even though my aunts and uncles and cousins and siblings kept her busy, I knew she felt the lack of her family being present. There were moments throughout the day when I’d catch her, almost frowning and staring at nothing, but they were gone almost as soon as I’d noticed them.
We’d filled ourselves to the brim with food and cake, listened to rowdy but surprisingly tame toasts—I figured my mother had words with most of the boys threatening some kind of dismemberment if they embarrassed Esther too badly—and the crowd was finally thinning when I cornered Esther near the end of the bar.
“You wanna get out of here?” I murmured, leaning down to kiss the side of her neck. Someone had turned on the sound system and the roar of chatter and laughter was drowned out by a song that had half the people booing and the others cheering.
“We can’t just leave,” she replied, her voice barely noticeable above the noise.
“The fuck we can’t,” I argued, pulling back to look at her. “Sugar, they won’t even notice we’regone.”
Esther turned to look at the crowd, and I followed her gaze. Aunt Farrah and Uncle Casper were dancing. Well, Aunt Farrah was dancing while Uncle Casper stood still, watching her with amusement. Gramps was reclined back lazily on a couch, Gram beside him with her legs thrown over his thighs. Titus was sitting next to them, scowling. He’d made it clear on more than one occasion over the past few days that he wasn’t against me and Esther getting married, but he was pissed as hell he couldn’t tell Noel that her sister was fine. My dad had been watching him closely to make sure he kept his mouth shut.
Rumi and Nova were playing grab-ass over by the pool tables while Micky leaned over Rhett, helping him line up a shot. Kara and Charlie were arguing with Draco and Curtis about something, their arms flying around in irritation while Bishop watched, a small smile of amusement on his face. Uncle Will was slow dancing with my cousin Rebel. Aunt Rose was frowning at Jamison and then glaring at Uncle Mack. Brody and Olive were throwing back shots further down the bar while Meg wrinkled her nose at them and sipped her soda. There were kids runningaround everywhere. Needless to say, everyone in the room was doing their own thing and paying absolutely no attention to us.
I looked back at Esther and raised my eyebrows.
“Okay,” she conceded slowly. “Are you sure no one will mind?”
“I’m sure,” I replied, grabbing her hand and tugging her quickly toward the door. I didn’t think anyone would mind, but I had a feeling if they saw us trying to leave, there’d be a whole lot of teasing that she wouldn’t enjoy in the slightest.
Esther giggled as I pulled her outside and jogged toward the Mustang.
“What in the world?” she yelped as we rounded Rumi’s truck.
“Those motherfuckers,” I hissed under my breath.
The Mustang had a line of cans tied to the bumper, balloons hanging from the door handles, and shit written all over the windows. I’d know that handwriting anywhere.
“People still do this?” Esther asked, laughing. “I thought it was only in movies.”
“My asshole sister does,” I replied, letting go of her hand to untie the cans from my bumper.
“When did she do this?” she asked, going closer so she could look at theJust Marriedwriting on the back window.
“Probably while we were eating,” I said with a huff, using my pocket knife to cut the rope. “That better be dry erase marker, or I’m going to kill her.”
She stuck a finger out and ran it over a little heart drawn on the corner of the window, showing the little red flecks to me when she finished.
“Good,” I grumbled. I ripped off the balloons and popped them with my knife, yanking open her door.
“You’re not really mad, are you?” she asked quietly, moving toward me.
“Irritated,” I clarified.
