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“Fuck that!” I hissed as I let myself drop back into my chair like a child throwing a tantrum. My mother would spank me raw if she witnessed my behavior since this whole ordeal began. Usually, I was almost frighteningly cool in stoicism during tense debates and perfectly reined in my propensity to have a potty mouth. Cussing in a diplomatic setting was unbecoming. But this whole situation had me on edge.
Please bring back the stoicism. I can't stand the FMC up to this point.
Once more, I glared at her with resentment, despite being grateful she was on top of things. The wretch only seemed amused by my annoyance. “Assuming I even go through with this madness, they are a primitive species. How do they treat females?” I asked.
“Oh, fuck that! I do not want your husband anywhere near this!” I exclaimed, panic immediately settling in the pit of my stomach. To my surprise, instead of being offended by my instinctive outburst, Linsea laughed, genuinely amused by my distress.
The gentle way he smiled at me felt like being wrapped in a freshly washed blanket, still warm from the dryer.
??? They still have traditional washer and dryers?
The music shifted to something a bit more playful. Then the most adorable couple walked down the aisle: a Pink Polychromatic flower girl, and a Blue Polychromatic ringbearer. As they reached the front, the music once more changed, this time into the nuptial march.
Did she pick her flower girl and ring bearer based on gender role inspired colors????
