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March 11 - March 12, 2025
“I better go, Mom. Need to start the hunt for a suitable wife. Do you think Craigslist is a good place to start? Maybe Facebook Marketplace?”
“Okay,” Thayden says, falling into step beside me. “But why are you going to miss him? He’ll be back tomorrow. Unless they kick him out for atrocious behavior and mauling an innocent woman.”
“Playing hard to get?” “I don’t play games. I am hard to get. Bye, handsome,” I call. Thayden’s brows shoot up, and a grin stretches over his face. “And goodbye to you too, Thayden.”
“I didn’t know we were already at the point of using pet names,” Thayden says. “But you can call me sugar anytime.”
“Don’t let your biscuits get cold!” Biscuits?! Probably from a can, I tell myself. The thought is desperate.
My trust issues have their own zip code.
Delilah: Got it. Will do our best to avoid men. You’d better. I refuse to type that out and send it.
“What did I sign?” I ask quietly, knowing somehow that whatever it is, I don’t want to know. And I’m right. “You agreed to marry me next month.”
What did the lawyer say to the frog? If you kiss me, I might turn into a decent human being.
I point the folder at him. “No flirting! Put that in the contract, Scotty.” I swear, Scott is about to quit his job and walk out.
“No children were harmed in the making of this ring,” he says, a smile on his lips.
“Don’t wait up. I may stay in here all night.” He laughs. “I’m making mushroom risotto for dinner.” “I’ll be down at six.”
That’s right. Suspect away. I DID figure out all your favorite things so I could win you over. Yep.
“I've poured a protective layer of salt around my room to keep your kind out.”
Thayden clears his throat, opens his mouth, and then does the absolute worst rendition of an Ed Sheeran song I’ve ever heard. Probably the worst rendition of any song that anyone's ever heard. It’s really, really terrible. Cats howling and fingernails on chalkboards have nothing on Thayden’s singing voice,
“Story!” I gasp. “I choose story!”
“I’m sorry,” I say, touching his arm and offering a smile. “But friends don’t let friends sing tone-deaf.”
The lesson learned today is: don’t use the broiler to make toast, then forget about it. Or … don’t cook.
Apollo growls again as a big, beefy shadow stops in front of me.
“Hello,” Thayden says, smiling at Mr. Ax. “I’m her fiancé. Wow, do I need to roll my shirt sleeves up? My biceps feel left out.”
But time with Delilah is time with Delilah, so I refused her suggestion to set it up online. In person, baby. In. Person.
The man is like a pie set out in a window to cool, and I want to take a big bite.
I cross my arms. Yeah, buddy. Go ahead and start. Hit me with a list of those potential problems.
So, I wouldn’t say that I’m planning a kidnapping exactly, but my plans are maybe a little closer to involuntary than I’d like.
