Page 48 of Delayed Penalty

“I was, but then I talked to Harris, and he is going to talk to his coach next week and get it all figured out.”

“Well,” she says, looking down at her watch, “if this thing is happening in four hours, we should probably get started.”

“Started? Started on what?”

“Baby sis, fake or not, there’s no way I’m going to stand with you while you get married and not have it be special. First things first, we need to get him a ring.”

“Why just him?”

“Because in the short time I’ve known Harris, I already know there’s not a damn chance he’s going to stand there tonight and not have a ring for you. Do I expect it to be perfect? No, but I don’t think that man will show up to marry you empty-handed.”

I think about it for a second, trying to imagine Harris showing up tonight. Would he come empty-handed? Probably not, she’s right. He has given me no reason to think he isn’t putting thought into this. I mean, hell, he knew his friend could marry us and then he knew where to get a marriage certificate and how it all worked.

The scary part of this realization is that I’m realizing the Harris I’m marrying tonight… well, he doesn’t remind me of the boy who broke my heart. He doesn’t remind me of the boy who left a note saying he wanted to be single and to not contact him.

He reminds me of the boy I laid in bed with until the sun would come up, dreaming about what our lives would be like one day. The boy who would wake up before me just to make sure my coffee was ready and that I had breakfast or else I wouldn’t eat until lunch. Those last two I’m sure were just self-preservation, but he still did it to make me happy. That’s what he’s been doing lately, I can tell. The man cares so much about seeing me happy, seeing me smile, I can already see myself getting lost in his tide again, one rogue wave will be enough to pull me under for good.

We aren’t even married yet and I’m already ready to say hell with my emotions and jump in bed with him.

“I’m so fucked.”

“He did that already, silly. If not, we probably wouldn’t be here. Now, let’s go get you another bagel and find a ring. I don’t want you puking on your wedding night because you refused to give the little gremlin his carbs.”

“Stop calling it a he!”

“Stop telling me what to do. I’ve never been wrong and I’m sure as hell not wrong now.”

“Whatever. Let’s go, you mention the word carbs and the little nugget is already making me feel like crap. Can we get candy, too? A sucker sounds nice.”

I never thought pickingout a guy’s ring would be so challenging, but I also wasn’t aware of just how many options there are.

How do I know if he wants gold or silver? Does he want titanium? Carbon fiber? Platinum? Two tone? Does he want a silicone ring instead because of hockey? I mean, I know he’sgoing to need to wear it around his coach to make a point. How do I know?

How the hell am I supposed to know? I couldn’t even tell you what I want on my own hand, well, except for the fact that the square cut Peter picked out definitely wasn’t my style. Not only was it gaudy, but it has such harsh angles all throughout it that I would constantly hurt myself on it. Plus, it felt too much for my hand. I feel like I need something more feminine, a little daintier, but I don’t even know where to begin.

For Harris though, I know I want to get him something a little different than the typical band you see guys wearing. I’ve seen my dad's yellow gold band and there’s just nothing too exciting about it, and for Harris, I don’t know, I just feel like he needs something a little more him.

“What about this one?” Kelly asks from a case behind me, pointing to a two-toned ring, black satin titanium with white gold in the middle.

“It’s nice, but it still doesn’t seem like him. I like the black, though. Are there more like that?”

Kelly has been working with the salesperson, who thankfully is a man because I also have no idea what size ring I’m supposed to be getting so hopefully he’ll be able to help with that part.

Having Kelly here is nice because she at least, sort of, has her shit together, while I’m clearly flying by the seat of my pants. Which frankly, are getting more snug every day.

“I have these over here,” he says, walking us over to a row of black rings. My eyes immediately fall on one, a solid black ring that feels manly but at the same time it doesn’t seem bulky.

“I’ll take that one,” I tell him. “It’s perfect.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

After figuring out what size I should get and picking out a silicone ring to go with it, Kelly and I head back to Harris’s apartment to somehow make me not feel like a hot mess. Ellieand Trevor are coming over at seven because Ellie is going to help me get ready, which is in only half an hour, but thankfully, she’s bringing over a couple of dresses for me to try on. Harris said I could wear sweats, but Ellie won’t allow it. Apparently, she has already started ordering dresses for maternity photos and has a few dresses that are white that will probably work perfectly.

It's not that I’ve started to show too much yet, it’s more that everything I wear is now too snug to be comfortable but I’m not quite ready for maternity clothes. At this point, I think I’m just going to live in sweats for the next month until I have to go back to work, I’ll deal with work clothes, then… maybe.

After a quick shower and a heavy helping of Cheez-its—because carbs, duh—Kelly dries my hair and starts doing something with it while I throw on some makeup. Just what I need to do is stand next to Harris who could be wearing a trash bag and still look hot as fuck while looking like I’ve spent most of the last few weeks throwing up—even if that’s exactly where I’ve been.

“Hey, ladies.” I hear from behind me, turning to see Ellie and Addy walking in, both looking adorable of course. “Sorry, we’re a little late. Miss Addy refused to leave the house unless she had princess curls in her hair so she could be pretty at the wedding.”

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