More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Rooney leans forward. “Wait, what?” “Axel called us in a bit of a panic last night about marrying to get his inheritance,” Bennett tells her. “I assumed that you and he had worked something out. But…you didn’t?”
“I’m bored,” Skyler says, hopping off her chair as she tugs on her alien mask. She skips over to Rooney and says, “Hey, E.T., want to play?”
“Experience dictates,” Bennett muses, “if you want to gauge Axel’s interest in someone, the quieter he is, the more it says.”
I am not marrying someone—for money or not—that I’m desperately attracted to, that I’ve spent years avoiding because there’s no chance in hell anything is ever coming of that.
Bennett chimes in, “I agree with Park. She’s perfect. Ask her to marry you.”
“I’ll do it,” she says simply, pushing off the tree. Then she straightens the big fuzzy yellow hat and turns my way. “If you want me, that is.”
I’m sure there’s a subsequent condition, too, like ‘after X amount of time.’” “I… Yes. There is. One year.” “That’s fine. I’ll be your legal wife for a year.”
“No money. I don’t want a cent.” “Then this isn’t an option. I couldn’t let you do this without getting anything in return.”
“You can stay here,” I offer. “In my house.” You jackass, that same voice hisses in my head. You really did it now.
A faint smile warms her face, and God, am I a fool for it.
“I promise I won’t bother you,” she says quickly. “Or kiss you. Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up. Again.
I have no idea what Rooney’s wearing, only that she assured me she had what she needed. Not that it’s important what she wears. Seeing as this isn’t real. Well, besides legally.
“Too bad you and Rooney don’t plan on working out tension the old-fashioned way,” Parker says.
In an ideal world, I would have found strangers for witnesses who wouldn’t harass me as I anxiously awaited marrying for money, but they’re the only non-family people I can mildly tolerate, and beggars can’t be choosers.
Soft, glittering, she looks like fresh snowfall kissed by sunlight.
Fuck’s sake. The officiant is high as a kite.
“Are you gonna kiss Uncle Ax?” I squeak and almost drop the rag. “Uh. Well. I’m not exactly—” “He could use a kiss is all I’m saying.”
“Why do you say that?” “’Cause he’s grumpy. And kisses make the grumps go away.”
“I don’t think he’s that grumpy.” She gives me a disbelieving look. “He’s so grumpy.”
“I still think a kiss would do the trick,” she says, walking back inside with the rag. “But I’m just a kid. What do I know?”
I stare down at our hands, braided together. It feels so unexpectedly good. Like sinking into a just-hot-enough bath, relaxation unspooling my limbs.
I squeeze his hand. His gaze darts to our tangled fingers, and he looks at them the way I did, like he’s not exactly sure how that happened or why it’s happening.
“And so,” Lloyd says, “embracing the reminder that nature gives us, let’s celebrate this fecund joining—” Bennett snorts and nearly drops his camera.
Maybe it’s my love of truth and facts and right vanquishing wrong, but it’s unsettling, making vows that I know, in one year, I’ll break. By the time I finish, my voice is shaking, as is my body.
Suddenly, his hands are sliding up my neck, cupping my jaw, and—oh, God—his lips are on mine, warm and soft. My head falls back and the shaking in my limbs dissolves.
He’s kissing me. He’s kissing me.
It’s a kiss that echoes through my bones and grounds me to the earth. It’s a kiss that calms and soothes and caresses with tenderness.
When Axel pulls away, I feel as dazed as Lloyd sounds when he says, “I was gonna say you can kiss your bride, man, but you beat me to the punch.”
I shriek in surprised laughter as I start to fall, but Axel lunges just in time and yanks me back, tumbling into his chest.
I hear the camera click. And I know of all the photos Bennett took, that’s the one I’ll want.
I kissed her. I kissed her. I can’t think about it, or I’ll spiral. I’ll do something drastic like rip off my suit jacket, kick out of my boots, and take off into the woods so I can outrun the reality that I kissed my wife when I had no business doing so.
“You did it!” Parker says, clapping his hands. “And may I say, it felt pretty legit.” “Minus the stoned officiant,” I mutter.
I try not to think about the fact that we’re in this tiny kitchen again, and last time we were, I nearly kissed her.
I love that about your family. All the traditions and family recipes your mom talks about. I envy that sense of…belonging? Belonging and connection to all these people before me who are part of what made me who I am.”
I want to tell her that you can have all the traditions and family recipes you like and still not feel like you belong. But I would never tell her that. I’ve never told anyone that.
“Do you want me to teach you?” I ask her. Oh, hello, self-sabotage.
“Now?” she asks. I lean in for a closer look, my chest inadvertently brushing her back. “No.” A beat of silence passes. “Now?” she asks again. “No. Be patient.”
I stare at the curve where her neck meets her shoulder, the soft wisps of blonde hair kissing her skin. I want to kiss that skin. And I’m definitely not supposed to.
“I’m going to be honest,” she says over her shoulder. “There is very little I know how to cook. And what I do turns out atrociously. So, consider this my blanket statement: no.”
Food was a bad idea. A very bad idea.
I never knew she enjoyed her meals…like this. Moaning. Sighing. Tongue sliding up the tines of her fork.
I have an erection the size of Seattle. And now I’m panicking.
“I’ll do the dishes,” she says, reaching for my plate. “No!” It comes out louder than intended, but I need her to sit and re...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
She rounds the table. I dig my fingers into my eyeballs once she passes me so I won’t ogle her ass.
This is hell. Marrying someone you’re in lust with is hell.
I open the door and hold it for her. Except the dog bounds up to us and goes in first. I stare at him. He came inside. He’s never wanted to.
“You’re such a sweetheart,” she croons to him, affectionately massaging around his ears. The dog shuts his eyes and sways dreamily. Lucky bastard.
I still can’t process that he’s comfortable in the house. But then I watch him trot behind Rooney into the kitchen, eyes pinned on her, and it clicks. He’s a sucker for her. Of course he is.
“Today…when you held my hand, when you kissed me—” “I’m sorry,” I blurt. Humiliation sweeps through me, turning my cheeks hot. “I didn’t… That is, I wasn’t…”
“It was pretty forward of you, though.” My head whips her way. She’s smiling. She’s teasing me.
