Page 73 of Mess With Me

I rub my forehead with my hand. Then I laugh, ruefully. It surprises us both, I think. “No. I do know. She would have said no. But I never would have asked her. It wasn’t like that between us.”

Laura didn’t believe in marriage, or kids, or tradition of any kind. It wasn’t really a sticking point, because I didn’t either. Or at least I didn’t think I did. Besides, I could never picture that fierce, no-bullshit, gun-wielding woman in a wedding gown, though I would have married her if that’s what she wanted.

Sasha’s still looking at me earnestly, and I realize right in this moment how fucking brave this woman before me is.

“She wasn’t sweet, Sasha.”Not like you.“She was serious. Hard. She could kick my ass.”

“I like her already.”

I let out a wry laugh that twists my chest. “We were well matched for what it was.” I meet Sasha’s eyes. She looks inexorably sad.

“Hey, it’s fine,” I say.

“It’s not fine.” Tears brim her eyes. “You should have married for love.”

“It doesn’t matter, Sasha.”

“Yes it does. When we’re done—divorced, or whatever we have to do—I want you to marry for love.”

I don’t move, examining her. “Does that mean it’s a yes?”

She nods. “Let’s get married. Tomorrow.”

I open my mouth like a fucking fish.

“Okay,” I say, frowning like my heart isn’t now galloping in my chest. “Good.”

She lets out this soft little laugh that makes me feel like bubbles are going off inside of me. It’s effervescence. I want to bottle the feeling.

Sasha presses a thumb to the spot between my eyebrows I know is bunched up, smoothing the space down. “Why am I happy about agreeing to a fake marriage?”

I relax into her touch, closing my eyes. I want to hold her hand there. To kiss her palm. Instead, I keep my elbows on my knees, my hands hanging between them. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

She drops her hand. “Why are you doing this for me?”

I open my eyes again. “Because keeping you safe is my job.”

“No it isn’t.”

“I’ve made it my job.”

She smiles, and I return it.

Sasha laughs softly. “You should smile more, Griff. You’re so handsome when you smile.”

“I’m not handsome.”

“Who told you that?”

I lie back down, lacing my hands together and laying them across my stomach to keep them in line. “We should go to sleep. Big day tomorrow.” I close my eyes. I don’t want to talk anymore. I don’t trust myself not to blubber some bullshit I’m going to regret sharing.

“There’s just one more thing,” Sasha says, her voice coming out soft. Almost nervous. “Actually, two things.”

I groan inwardly but open my eyes, gripping my hands tight together.

Sasha tucks a lock of her loose waves behind her ear. “The first is, I want your family there.”

“What?”

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