Page 26 of Honeyed

“What is this?” I eye it curiously.

“Open it.” My sister-in-law smiles.

Pulling out the tissue paper, I see a small object at the bottom of the bag. Reaching in, my hand meets something cool and heavy, and I bring it out and set it down.

“Cass …” My words get trapped in my throat.

Sitting in front of me is a ceramic ring dish, done in creams and golds. Lasered into it at the bottom of the heart-shaped dish is “Mrs. Teal.” Tears dot my eyes because how many times had I doodled that in my teenage notebooks? It’s the first time I’m seeing it written out while wearing his ring, and now it’s real.

“I figured you’re a wife now, so you need somewhere to put your rings.” She glances at my hand. “Oh …”

“We didn’t have time to pick one out, but I’m sure we’ll do it sometime. Right now, I’ll be honored to put my simple gold band on this.” I reach over to hug her.

She wipes her eyes as we release each other. “Sorry, the hormones have me all over the place. It’s just … I’ve always longed for a sister. And yeah, you were already my sister when I married Patrick, but Warren is such a good man and almost like another brother. I’m just happy for you two; marriage is the best thing I’ve done so far and I’m so happy you guys will get that now, too.”

Shit, I’m going to have so much repenting to do, aren’t I? The guilt alone is going to eat me whole.

Smiling as much of a genuine smile as I can, I thank her one more time. “I hope it’s the same for us.”

“All right, now tell me all of it.”

I launch into the canned story Warren and I came up with about how we’d gone out for a walk on the canal, and it just hit us all at once. How we didn’t want to wait one more minute to be committed to each other and ran to get a courthouse wedding as soon as we could. How we were trapped in our little bubble and didn’t want to come out, even though we love our friends and family.

“That is so romantic.” She sighs. “Still a little pissed you didn’t have any of us there. Or that you didn’t have a big old party.”

“Says the woman who got married at the local theater with like twelve people in attendance,” I fire back.

“Touché.” She chuckles. “But it would have been nice to be there.”

“All right, I get it. Mom has guilted me enough for sixty people, you don’t have to add on. We just didn’t want to wait. And with Warren’s relationship with our family, I didn’t want input beforehand. We made this decision for us.”

Although, if anyone knew why we’d made the decision, they’d have a whole lot more guilting to do. And if anyone knew the real, real reason I actually did it, they’d take pity on me. Being in love with your fake husband isn’t for the faint of heart.

“Again, so romantic. So you guys are happy? Are you going to get a house?” She leans in like she’s on the edge of her seat for all of this.

“He moved into my house for now, it’s all the room we need and it’s so early that we haven’t even talked about a forever home. We just want to enjoy this newlywed stage.”

Cass claps her hands together. “Please let me send you on a honeymoon! It’ll be our wedding present to you. I still have my house in LA, or you could use my agent’s house in Bermuda? Oh my God, you guys need a trip to celebrate.”

I haven’t even thought of a honeymoon. It’s been over a year since I’ve gone on any sort of vacation, what with the restaurant and family stuff. Going away with Warren used to be a no-brainer; we’ve done plenty of family vacations as teens and then overseas or beach trips as adults. But this is different. A romantic getaway to celebrate our marriage? Where we’d have to share a bed and endure rose-petal bubble baths and champagne on the beach by firelight.

“I don’t know.” I shrug uncomfortably. “Most people just get some flatware or a pots and pans set for new couples.”

Cass waves me off. “Psh, that’s boring. And you said it yourself, you already have that stuff at your house. I’ll think of the best place to send you, don’t worry.”

I can see her wracking her brain, and meanwhile, I’m sitting here thinking of how I’ll explain to Warren that we have to go on a honeymoon together.

I’m saved by having to answer her or dissuade her when the front door opens and then closes. Two seconds later, my grandmother walks into the kitchen.

“Nonna, I told you to stop driving yourself here! I would have picked you up.” Cass rises off her chair slowly, all belly leading the way, as she takes the multiple Tupperware containers out of my grandmother’s hands.

“Oh, shush, everyone in this town knows to stay out of my way if I’m on the road,” Nonna chastises her.

“As if that’s a rational excuse for why you’d be on the road.” I shake my head at her logic.

My grandmother points a finger in my direction. “I want no sass out of you today. You have a lot of explaining to do. We’re going to get into it, bella.”

When my grandmother speaks Italian, you know you’re in for it. I shiver internally because if anyone is going to dress me down for this decision, it’s her. I swear, the woman can see past any motive or excuse. It’s freakishly scary.

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