Page 52 of His Fantasy Bride (Things To Do Before You Die)

Fantasies were merely fabrication. Look at him and Gabby. His fucking fantasy bride.

Logan shrugged. “Some things should be left alone.”

“Seems like we’re all fucked royally,” Vito said.

“Yup.” Josh agreed. “Let’s get pissed.”

Vito took a deep breath. “Fuck this.” He picked up his drink, swallowed the contents in one go and pushed his empty glass toward Logan. “Fill it up.”

Three hours later, he watched as Josh tried to push himself up, almost managed it, and collapsed back to the table. “I’m heading home. If I can get up. I need to call a cab.”

“I’ll get Mark to take you,” Logan said. He waved a hand, and the most enormous man Vito had ever seen walked up—tall and broad with tattoos crawling up his neck and over his shaved head.

“And I need to get back to my hotel,” Vito said.

Josh made another effort to get up, this time managing it. “Come back with me. Lexi likes taking in lost causes. You’ll be right at home.”

He thought about it for two seconds. He didn’t want to go back to his hotel alone. He might weaken and call Gabby. And say what? What was there to say? She clearly had no real feelings for him—otherwise she wouldn’t have found it so easy to lie.

Josh was in a worse state than him, lurching across the floor, holding on to Vito for balance. He couldn’t ever remember being this drunk. Perfect fucking people didn’t get drunk. He swayed and Josh grabbed him before he fell over.

“You sure it will be all right?” Vito asked. “Me coming home with you?” he added when Josh remained silent.

“Of course it will. The more the merrier. And I’ll even introduce you to Prudence. She’s this really hot chick.”

Vito had presumed he hadn’t meant a real chicken. Either he’d been wrong, or he was drunker even than he’d thought. Half an hour later, as he settled down to sleep on the huge sofa opposite Josh, he could swear that a chicken hopped up and settled on his chest.

A dream?

He was too tired to care.

Someone nudged him in the shoulder.

“Vito, you lazy bastard, time to wake up.”

“Piss off,” he mumbled. He lay there for a moment, hand over his eyes. He didn’t want to wake up. He’d been having this dream about Gabrielle where she’d come to him, all prim and proper, and told him she’d made a mistake and that she’d decided to be his dream woman again and they could get married and live happily ever after. But as soon as she said that, he didn’t want her anymore. He wanted Gabby. What the hell was that supposed to mean? He’d just been about to reach some really important conclusion when Josh nudged him.

Now he’d never know.

At least the chicken was gone.

If it had ever been there.

Finally, he lowered his arm and opened his eyes. A gold feather was stuck to his shirt. He looked away from it, and there was a woman sitting opposite—small, with a cloud of dark red curls around a heart shaped face. Sweet. He sat up and winced.

“Mi scusi, signorina. I didn’t know we had company.”

“This is my wife, Lexi,” Josh said.

“Ah, much becomes clear.” It was obvious Josh had become enamored of his not-so-convenient bride.

She handed him a couple of painkillers and a mug of coffee, then sat back down. He swallowed them with a gulp of the hot liquid and relaxed back, waiting for them to kick in.

Today was the day that the last year’s work officially came to an end. He should feel some sort of achievement, but he felt…empty.

Still, he couldn’t put the day off forever. “You mind if I go wash up?” he asked Lexi.

“Of course. The bathroom is across the hall, the blue door.”

---