“How many dinners until I get to marry you?” She balks. “That’s not how it works.” “It’s the deal we made for . . . other stuff.” She blushes darker, and it’s the cutest fucking thing. And then, once again, my Nessa says the last thing I expect. “Twenty-two.” I grin like a maniac. “Then get a white dress, because twenty-three days from now, you’re going to be mine for real. Forever.”
