Page 78 of Conflict
I shake the thought out of my head. That is crazy talk. I figure I should probably take my future wife out on at least one—maybe two—dates before the whole “hey, wanna get hitched and have a kid or two?” topic comes up.
Yeah, I need to slow it down. Stepwayback.
Except, at this exact moment, Alyssa’s eyes meet mine. Fuck me, she is magnificent. And one of the most endearing qualities about her is she has no idea.
The wedding passes in a blur. I can’t even tell you what either of them vowed to the other. It doesn’t matter. Those words weren’t meant for me. But the girl across the aisle? Shesois.
“You may kiss the bride.”
The words only register because it means the wedding is over. I’m free. And Alyssa is only twenty feet away.
I take two steps towards her, but then Knox places a hand on my arm, stopping me in my tracks. I turn to glare at him only to find him raising an eyebrow in my direction.
“Not so fast, lover boy,” he drawls.
My brow furrows. “You’re one to talk. The fact that you already haven’t swooped up your wife has me wondering if you’re feverish.”
Knox chuckles. “Took care of that before the ceremony. Why do you think I was late to get ready?” A content expression crosses his face. “God, that woman has a great appreciation for classic cars.”
I cover my ears with my hands. “Let’s file that under things I don’t need to know. Also, congrats on getting me to leave you alone about taking joy rides in Evelyn.”
Evelyn, his 1967 Mustang, is a perfect copy of Eleanor fromGone in 60 Seconds.She’s his pride and joy, and I’ve been begging him to let me take her out for a test drive. Well, he doesn’t have to worry about that anymore.
I start forward, and he once again stops me. He gestures off behind me towards the photographer. When I catch his meaning, I groan my frustration.
I’d forgotten the whole “let’s take seventy-five hundred photos to commemorate the day” thing. With a sigh, I trudge along for the next forty-five minutes until my jaw hurts from smiling way too much.
Thankfully, the last of the photo shoot I have to partake in is the groom with his groomsmen. Branson put up with it for about five minutes, no doubt for Ari’s sake, and then he says he’s had enough.
I couldn’t be happier.
My job here is done. Now, it’s time to find my girl and officially make her mine.
Except, when I do find her, she’s not alone. Some jackass has his hand on her shoulder as she smiles at him.
Who the fuck is that? And why is he touching my girl?
I’m not waiting another second to find out.
