Page 98 of Sinful Like Us
“I know.”Thatcher is too good for me and my insecurities.I’m not so sure I deserve to have a man who’s sacrificed everything for me and who also has to waitforeverfor me. Sadly, I mutter, “He deserves better.”
“No,” Maximoff snaps. He touches my forehead like I’m running a fever.
“Moffy.” I start to smile.
He drops his hand. “Tu esla meilleure. Il a même de la chance de respirer le même air que tu respires.”You’rethe best.He’s lucky to even breathe the same air you breathe.
“It’s hard to feel that way when he just had to announce how many times he thinks aboutfuckingme in a single day.” Charlie made us flip a card an hour ago, and it’s not like either of us has kept a count of our impure thoughts. So we did our best to estimate an average.
“Last I checked, we’re not normal, everyday people,” Moffy tells me. “Unless we’ve left this universe and entered one where our facesaren’tplastered on everyamazingtabloid that I just love reading front to damn back.”
I tip my head. “We are excruciatingly abnormal.”
“And your boyfriend has to do abnormal things to be with you,” Maximoff says. “And I saw you smiling when he answered102 times a day.”
I did.
And Thatcher looked enamored by me when I answered,81 times.
I breathe in more, and I rest my hands on his shoulder, my chin on my knuckles. Feeling better. “Did you ever imagine our first time in Scotland would be with your fiancé and my boyfriend and we’d be preparing for your wedding?” It bursts love into my heart just thinking this.
Maximoff tries to restrain an uncontrollable smile. “No.” He licks his lips. “Because I never thought I’d get married. If anything, I thought it’d beyourwedding, and I’d be over here a forever bachelor.”
“I like this better—and I’m not hijacking your wedding,” I note. “Don’t fret.”
Media and tabloids keep speculating that Thatcher and I will marry first. Based off a complicated history where my mom and dad sort of commandeered Aunt Lily and Uncle Lo’s wedding.
Their past choices keep affecting us in strange ways.
“I’m not worried about that,” Moffy says with a weird look.
“What is it?”
“You know if you want to marry Thatcher before I walk down the aisle, I get it. It’s not like I’m planning on marrying Farrow tomorrow. It’ll be a couple years.”
My eyes bug. “I just started calling him a boyfriend, and he just moved in.I’m not ready, and I doubt he’d want to put a ring on a girl who can barely utterI love you.”
“Okay, okay,” Maximoff nods. “I just don’t want to be the reason you’re holding back.”
I give him a weird look now. “Would you really want Thatcher to be the man I’m with forever?” Thatcher has been Farrow’s least favorite person, and Maximoff hasn’t been too fond of him in the past either.
“Weirdly, yeah. He’s good to you, and he makes you happy.” He nods. “But if he hurts you, I’ll slit his throat with a hacksaw—arustedhacksaw.”
I laugh at his amendment.
Maximoff smiles. “This is surreal—you and me in serious relationships and traveling with our men.” He shakes his head in disbelief, and I feel that same overwhelming feeling breach the surface inside me. “I’m glad you’re here, Janie.” His chest rises. “I couldn’t do this without you.”
Emotion wells my eyes. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
* * *
I’m drunk.
Scottish whiskey is delightful, and I nurse my third glass. Or is this my fourth? My head floats, and the noisy pub sounds melodic to Feel-Good Drunk Jane. Seventeen bodies pack in, our group overrunning the establishment.
A glittery sequin on my sweater snags my blue tutu. I rip them apart with one hand, and the tulle tears.
Oh well. Torn skirt, missing sequin—life could be so much worse. A rumor could hit the internet that I’m fucking my cousin.
