Page 219 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions

I grinned, not taking the bait.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in years,” I sighed, thumb skimming over his bottom lip.

“It’s been two hours.”

Two hours of dealing with my mom, with the ceremony, getting my picture taken—which I hated. Two hours George-less.

“Two hours too long. Dance with me?” It was a formal request, dripping with affection—and ignoring the ammo my pretty kitty always seemed to have loaded. His mouth was as sharp as it was soft. “Please?”

He melted, blue eyes meeting mine, his flush splotchy and endearing where it smeared across his cheeks and throat. “O-okay.”

I pulled him toward the dance floor, waiting along the edge for the next song to play. June had wanted to forgo the whole first-dance tradition, and instead, had opted for a more group oriented approach. Therefore, the live orchestra had been playing since the reception had begun, even before she’d arrived.

George was a horrible dancer.

Which was surprising.

How the hell had he been a cheerleader?

Or in theater, for that matter?

It was a mystery.

He stepped on my feet more often than not—punctuated by apologies dripping in mortification. I didn’t chastise him though. What were a few missing toes in the face of his affection? After the third time he’d stomped on my foot, he whined, this low, upset sound.

“I’m done. I can’t do this anymore. It’s too?—”

Golden-boy George was too embarrassed.

“Here.” I jerked him upward, lifting his body up and against mine, until his feet settled on top of my own. “Now you don’t need to worry.”

The motion silenced his protests, his eyes full of confusion, and then ultimately relief when we started to spin around in graceful circles, and no more toes were abused.

“Everyone’s going to see,” he muttered, though he didn’t step off my feet. The weight of him was nice. The dress shoes I’d bought him were bound to leave scuffs on mine, but I didn’t mind.

In fact, I’d put them on a pedestal. Right next to the family photos we’d taken in the woods.

“No one’s watching your feet, baby,” I promised, hands wrapped around him to keep him steady. I stole a grope of his ass, wagging my brows until he giggled. He quickly caught himself, adopting a scowl instead. A scowl that was ruined by the light in his eyes, and the way his lips kept twitching like he wanted to smile.

“Monogamy is a good look on you,” June’s voice startled me out of my staring match with George’s mouth. I snorted, and George flushed, glancing toward her sheepishly.

“Fuck off,” I laughed.

“That’s not a very nice thing to say to your sister on her wedding day.” June and Roderick were spinning around in lazy circles off beat. Which…if that wasn’t a symbol of why they worked, I didn’t know what was.

“Yeah, that’s not going to work anymore. Not after you’re the one that chased me off.”

“Touché.” June’s eyes were warm as she ran them over the two of us. “Cute,” she said simply, before leading Roderick away—and leaving us alone.

The rest of the afternoon was full of little comments.

Mrs. M told us we were “quite the pair.” Mr. M grunted. Lacey and Joe both offered me a thumbs up—at different times, and with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Mavis was…as always…not impressed by me stealing her uncle—but hell, who could blame her? In a way, I was jealous of myself too.

That I was the one who got to hold George-Arthur Milton close. That I was the one he fed bites of his wedding cake to—germs be damned. That he accepted my kisses. That he wore my hickeys. That when he smiled, it was for me—and me alone.

It all came to a stop way too soon.

The ceremony ended.

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