Page 136 of Marry Lies
I watch Estelle as she cleans up since she refuses to let me help her. To be fair, I cook our dinner most nights, finding that I love to cook as long as it’s something that she loves to eat. Her hips sway as she hums a Christmas song, andfuckI want to memorize this moment forever.
I drag my new camera over and quietly click through the settings before holding it up to my face and taking a quick picture.
Estelle turns around quickly, pink gloves on her hands as she glares at me with soapy fingers.
“Did you just take a picture of my arse?”
I smirk. “Maybe.”
Rolling her eyes, she presses her lips together and turns the water off, setting the gloves off to the side.
“You’re having too much fun with that camera,” she teases, walking over to me.
I spread my legs on the stool I’m sitting on, and she comes to stand between them. Pulling her close, I inhale the scent of her hair.
“Marry me?” I ask quietly.
She pulls away and shoves against my chest. “Very funny.”
“No, I know we’re already legally married,” I say slowly, running a hand through her curls. “I mean…for real. A big ceremony. Lots of people. A goddamn cake would be nice.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “Really?”
I huff a nervous laugh. The idea of marrying Estelle again is something I’ve been thinking a lot about. So, why not?
“It’s not like you can say no,” I murmur, kissing the tip of her nose. “You can’tunmarry me.”
Her eyes flutter closed. “Of course. You know I’d love that, darling.”
I grin as I kiss her, placing my hands on either side of her face. When I pull away, I take her left hand—where the amethyst ring sparkles against the lights of the kitchen.
“I think a real wedding would make her proud,” I tell her, knowing she’ll know who I’m referring to.
Estelle sniffs and takes a step back, looking down at her hand. “I think it would.”
“Do you think she would’ve liked me?” I ask, having been wondering this for weeks.
She looks up at me—her cheeks flushed, hair tousled, flannel shirt unbuttoned enough to expose the lace of her neon green bra.
“She would’ve loved you,” she says slowly, her expression emotional and soft. “Because you love me. She would’ve been able to see that love, and she would’ve loved you for it.” Looking once again down at her ring, her eyes then flick back up to mine. “Another wedding? Really?”
I shrug. “Why not?”
Grinning, she rushes forward and collides with my body. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
I kiss the top of her head. “You plan it this time. Make it exactly how you imagined. Go crazy.”
“What-if we…” she trails off, and she shakes her head.
“What?” I ask, pulling away.
She gives me a sheepish smile. “What-if we have it in Paris?”
My face breaks out into a grin. “I can’t think of a better place. I wonder if they’d let us get married in the Jardins du Trocadero?”
“We’re probably banned for life,” she admits.
“Yes, the French don’t care for people swimming naked in their public fountains.”
