Page 160 of Wild Then Wed
She laughs but gives a shameless shrug. “I don’t know. Something…sturdy.”
“You’re a menace,” I mutter, but I’m smiling now. It feels easier somehow. Lighter.
She snickers and rests her head against the window again. “Why Violet?”
I think about it for a beat. “Because Julia wanted something bold. Something that stood out. She kept throwing out names like Phoenix and Andromeda and I just—I don’t know. I kept picturing this quiet little girl with dark hair and big eyes who’d sit in the grass and pick wildflowers. The kid who’d bring home stray animals and give them ridiculous names like Sir Barkington the Third or something.”
Wren lets out a soft laugh beside me.
“I thought Violet sounded strong and soft at the same time,” I say. “Like a name that a girl could grow up into without it ever growing out of her.”
I pause. My chest aches in that deep, hollow way it does when I think about her.
“If I tell you something,” she says, side-eyeing me, “you have to promise not to laugh.”
I glance over, one corner of my mouth lifting. “I can’t promise that.”
She smacks my arm, just enough to make me chuckle, and I can see the ghost of a smile on her face, too.
“Okay, okay,” I say, raising a hand. “I won’t laugh.”
She’s quiet for a second, then says, “I always thought if I had a girl one day, I’d name her Ruthie.”
“Ruthie? Why?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I went through aSeventh Heavenphase when I was, like, eight and just got irrationally attachedto the name Ruthie. I named everything Ruthie after that. Dolls, imaginary friends, this beat-up stuffed elephant I dragged around for years. It just…stuck, I guess.”
I glance at her again, at the way she’s turned slightly toward the window but not enough that she’s hiding. “It’s a pretty name.”
She snorts. “Do youactuallymean that? Or are you just giving me shit?”
“I mean it,” I say, and I do. It sounds like her somehow. Elegant but not frilly. Sophisticated. Understated.
She looks at me, holding my gaze for a beat longer than normal. Then, her voice drops, casual in a way that’s not casual at all. “It doesn’t really matter, anyway. I won’t get to use it since they gutted me like a fish and took my uterus out.”
I jerk slightly, eyes flicking to her in horror. “Fuck, Wren!”
She laughs. “It’s fine. You can laugh. I use dark humor to cope.”
“You’re sick in the head,” I mutter, shaking mine, but I’m laughing too.
I look at her again, and she meets my gaze. There’s humor there, yeah—but something else, too. Something old and bruised, tucked underneath the smirk. And I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but I want to reach over and thread my fingers through hers, just to let her know she’s not alone.
Just then, my phone rings.
I flinch at the sound, dragging my gaze away from her, and I swear I’ve never been more grateful for a distraction in my life. It’s probably better this way. If I stare at her for another second, I’m going to do something reckless—like reach for her hand, or worse, kiss her. Again.
Domflashes across the screen. Shit.
I answer. “What the hell do you want?”
He chuckles, that smug, gravelly laugh of his. “Relax, lover boy. Was just calling because I was supposed to kick your ass at the gym. But as it turns out—you’re not here.”
“Fuck.” I drag a hand over my jaw. “It’s Friday.”
“Ding ding diiiiiiiing.” He draws it out. “Which, if I remember correctly, is our regular scheduled programming of me showing you how to bench twice your weight.”
I blow out a breath, trying not to look at Wren again, who’s thankfully gone back to reading. “I’ve got a work thing. Fundraiser. Vet stuff.”
