The Fiancé Dilemma

by Elena Armas

To my readers (yes, you. Hi, babe), Your expectations are not impossibly high. Never let anyone make you believe you’re asking for too much.

“But sweetheart,” he said a lot louder. “Of course I would love you if you were a worm.” He winked. “I’d build you a tiny box and carry you in my pocket anywhere I’d go.”

“I would post you. Everywhere. If this was real.” The brown in Matthew’s eyes sharpened as his gaze held mine. “I’d be very happy to show you off. Just so you know.”

“Only a fool would wait when there’s something so precious to be claimed.”

“Wildflowers,” I announced. “They make me smile. They grow free. They’re beauty and defiance, and the fact that no matter what goes on in the world, they still continue to bloom, makes me happy.”

“Maybe I would help any stranger. But it’s you I’m going this far for. It’s you. Josie.”

Beautiful things shouldn’t be boxed. It eventually dims their light.

“You don’t correct a fear,” Matthew countered with a frown. “You change the fucking venue.” “It was his dream to get married in a place like that.” “His dream should have been getting married to you.”

“I distract you, Josie. From whatever’s bothering you. Whatever’s making you doubt who you really are and what we’re doing. That’ll be my job.” His voice lowered. “Whenever you can’t, I take control. I won’t wait for you to ask. That’s my rule.”

“If you were referring to your coffee, I was calling that a Sharkie.” “Aw,” Bobbi deadpanned. “You named a drink after me. I’d be moved if this was some Hallmark movie where the coffee shop owner teaches the badass boss bitch city lady—with amazing fashion sense—how to open her heart so she can start to live, laugh, love her life. But luckily, this is real life. And that’s not on our meeting minutes.”

“You weren’t kissing me,” Matthew repeated. “Not really. That wasn’t our first kiss. You’d know if it was.” Our first kiss.

“I’d love to stay and witness how Adalyn hands Andrew his own ass, but I’d rather spend my rehearsal dinner in a more pleasurable way.” He threw the napkin that had been on his lap on the table. “And yes, that’s a nice way to say: I’m making my woman scream until she forgets her father thinks so highly of himself, he decided to make this night about him.”

“I can’t decide,” Matthew said. “I can’t decide how I want to have you.” His voice strained. “Eat you. Fuck you against this wall. Have you ride my face. Take you on the bed. Fill that tub up and beg you to let me come all over your back?”

“Give me a little scream so I can fuck you.”