Page 74 of Conflagration
“I get it. As soon as I slipped that ring on Charlie’s finger, I wanted to whisk her away and get married immediately. Eight months was a bitch.”
“Fortunately, I don’t have to wait that long. By Christmas, I’ll be a taken man.”
“Well, damn. I didn’t know it’d be that soon, but I’m happy for you, Branson.”
I look at him thoughtfully. “You know, everyone keeps telling me that.”
He slaps my shoulder. “Then it’s about time you start believing it.”
AS BRANSON and I walk home from the Wellingtons’ house, a chill fills the air and I wrap my arms around myself. My head is swimming. I’m not sure if it’s from all the wedding planning decisions Amelia threw at me or the four glasses of wine I had to combat my anxiety. You’d think a girl who was to be married a little over two months ago would be used to this, but after discussing everything from party favors to the pros and cons of a plated dinner versus a buffet, I realized just how much Victoria and Benjamin’s mother planned.
Even though I feel overwhelmed at putting together a wedding in such a short time, I vow to play an active role in the planning this time around, and with Amelia there to guide me, I don’t think there will be any problem. A Christmas wedding. The idea is suddenly dizzying, and I stumble slightly.
Branson laughs, putting an arm around my waist and pulling me into him. “I think someone had too much celebratory wine tonight,” he teases as we walk up to the house.
I’m silent as we head down the hall to our bedroom, his hold on me never loosening.
“Maybe,” I mumble belatedly, and he laughs again.
He picks me up and sets me down on the bed. Slowly and with expert efficiency, he undresses me then slips one of his oversized T-shirts over my head. As he moves away, he strips down to just his boxer briefs and I can’t take my eyes off him.
“Get under the covers,” he orders when he returns to the bed.
I scoot back, doing just as he says. He disappears from the room, only to return with a pack of ice.
Bolting up, I wince. “I knew you shouldn’t have been playing ball!”
Shaking his head, he climbs in beside me and places the ice on his knee before turning off the bedside lamp. “It’s fine. Just a little sore. Plus, it’s not like I could wimp out and say no when Knox challenged me and Cohen. Now come here,” he says.
I slide over, placing my head on his chest, my hand on his abdomen. His arm settles around me.
“Next time, you’ll wimp out. Or I’ll threaten you. I don’t mind being the bad guy,” I tell him.
His chest rumbles with laughter. “Okay, baby. Next time I’ll let you boss me around.” His hand slides up into my hair and he plays with the loose strands. “So, a Christmas wedding?”
“Well, to be honest, the idea of eloping was kind of nice. Just you and me, no pomp and circumstance. No waiting. No pressure,” I tell him, and his hand stills.
“Baby, we can do whatever you want. I know Mom protested at the thought, but at the end of the day, she’ll get it over it. After all, it’s not the wedding they really want to see. It’s the aftermath. The happily ever after.”
Tilting my head, I look up at him. “We’re going to have that, aren’t we?” I murmur sleepily.
He leans down and presses a kiss to the top of my head. “We already do. A piece of paper and a ring aren’t going to change that.”
“So, you’re saying we don’t need to get married after all?” I ask, only teasing.
“Woman, it’s just the sentiment, but you better fucking believe we’re getting that piece of paper. I want you to have my name.”
“Ariana Wellington does sound pretty good, doesn’t it?”
“It sounds pretty damn perfect, baby,” he says.
As I settle into him, I wish I had a notepad and a pencil so I could start doodling it like one of those love-struck teenagers in high school.
With sudden clarity, it all hits me at once. The proposal. The wedding planning. The impending happily ever after. I’m getting married in three months to the love of my life.
This is crazy.
This is real.
