Page 84 of Dice & Dekes

“Awake for two minutes, and you’re already blackmailing me. Typical.” Knova eases my foot out of her lap so gently that it doesn’t add to my pain and stands up.

“Griping at me while looking out for my well-being,” I shoot back. “Typical.” I swallow my painkiller with a swig of the water she’s been thoughtful enough to provide.

A smile flits across her features. “You’ve always got to have the last word, don’t you?”

“I’d rather have a kiss.” The words are out of my mouth before I remember why I was distracted enough to wind up here. I was so sure that we were finished. But then she rolled in, telling everyone that she was my wife, and now she’s icing my damn foot. I don’t know what’s real anymore.

Instead of chewing me out for crossing a line or whipping out a stack of paperwork for me to sign, Knova leans over with one arm against the back of the couch and presses a kiss to my lips. It’s not a passionate kiss. There’s no promise of sex. It’s affectionate, the kind of kiss my parents give each other on the regular, usually to the sounds of the three of us gagging and whining.

It melts the worry in my chest. It’s a promise, even if she didn’t mean it as one. A vow that she’s still here. And that maybe, just maybe, she’s thinking about staying. My chest aches with the pressure of hope—hot and fragile and terrifying. I don’t know where Knova stands on the subject of our annulment, but she hasn’t given up on me just yet.

“I’m an idiot,” I murmur when she pulls away.

“Agreed,” she says without missing a beat. “I have no follow-up questions at this time.”

A knock at the door makes Knova straighten up. She pads over to answer it.

“Do you see why I don’t recognize what the doorbell sounds like?” I call over the back of the sofa. “Normal people knock!”

She opens the door. “Hey,” she says to whoever’s standing outside. “Before I let you in, you gotta ring the bell.”

A few seconds later, the melodious chime of the bell echoes through the house.

“Great.” She steps aside. “Come on in.”

It’s Knight. He gives his sister a skeptical look but doesn’t ask questions, probably because he knows by now that he doesn’t really want answers. He comes to peer over the back of the couch at me. “Hey, dude. Looks like you’re not dead, so that’s good.”

Knova comes over and smacks her brother’s arm. “Great pep talk. What are you doing here?”

He smacks her right back. “Yes, this visit could’ve been a text message or a phone call if either of you two would answer your phones!”

I shift back against the arm of the couch, slowly scooching myself upright. “In my defense, I’m injured.”

“I know. Which is why I have come in person to give you a heads-up.” Knight turns to his sister. “Mom and Dad are on their way over. Molly and Noah, too. Good news travels fast. They know you’re married. More importantly, they know that you two were drunk-married by Elvis. I guess Noah was asking questions, and Dante spilled the beans.”

The air goes out of the room. My body might be stitched together by duct tape and divine intervention, but suddenly, it’s my pride that hurts most. This is supposed to be our story—me and Knova. And now it’s about to be a group discussion with commentary. I don’t want to see the judgment in Cash’s eyes. Or the worry in Molly’s. Or the smirk on Knight’s face when he inevitably says, “I told you so.”

“It was Dante’s idea!” I remind him.

Knova wrinkles her nose. “True, but we’re the ones who kept it secret. I saw them a little more than a week ago. Dad’s going to have opinions about the fact that I didn’t tell him at family dinner.”

“Tell him it was my fault,” I suggest. “He’ll believe that.”

Knova cocks her head. She bends forward to rest her elbows on the back of the couch. “That’s a terrible idea, babe. For one thing, he already has opinions about you. For another, I don’t want to lead into this by pretending you coerced me into lying to my family. I’m not about to tell my dad you manipulated me. That’s not a cute origin story. That’s how HBO dramas start.”

Start. That one word echoes in my brain like a puck off the post. Not end. Not temporary. Not a mistake. Start. My pulse kicks. Maybe I’m not imagining this. Maybe she’s actually thinking about a future. With me.

Another knock at the door makes both Hale twins jump.

“Looks like I made it just in time,” Knight mumbles. “Aaaand now I’m going to be trapped here. Fan-freaking-tastic.”

Sure enough, all four of our parents are at my doorstep. Kingsley is carrying a giant box of takeaway coffee, Mom is holding a fruit platter in both hands, and Dad has a giant box of pastries. Cash, situated at the back of the group, is the only one to arrive empty-handed.

“Wow, hi.” Knova ushers them through. “This is quite the party, isn’t it?”

“We have a lot to talk about,” Mom says. “And I thought food might help, especially since you have your hands full. How are you doing, baby?” She deposits the fruit platter on the coffee table and comes over to squeeze my face between her hands.

“I’m fine, Mom, stop squishing me,” I mumble. I don’t need her to give Knova’s parents the wrong impression. Especially since Cash already hates me.

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