Rhys’s fingers tangle absently in my hair and give a gentle tug. “Obviously we have to keep a copy of our marriage announcement for the wedding album,” he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “And…” He taps his card on the reader, a smug smile on his face while he leaves me hanging, watching, wondering what the hell he was about to say. Once the machine beeps its approval, I get my answer. Rhys turns and tosses one paper over the magazine rack, landing it smack-dab in front of Terence, drawing the man’s attention once more. “And I thought our good pal Stretch might like a copy for
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