Her full, infectious cackle bounces off the ceiling and apparently acts as a beacon to the guys, who saunter in from the patio. Here we go. The three of them are all sporting smiles like the fucking Joker on their faces. And Liam starts clapping like a jackass. “Aww. Look at the happy couple. Finally fuck your bride, Chief?” “Jesus Christ,” I hiss. Ivy’s face blushes a lobster red as she stabs her eggs with a coy grin, but no comeback.
