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I’m a jealous, possessive bastard, and I keep picking up vibes between Sol and my future wife.
I head toward the exasperating, whip-lash inducing, pain in the butt who happens to be the queen I would die for.
“Stop being a freaking caveman and put me down!” Cadence yells at my lower back.
How does a human kill a monster? Poison? Silver-tipped arrow? Holy water?
“Your face is red, Cadey. Maybe try not to blush so hard when you make a point.” I cup my cheek. “It’s from sunburn.”
I don’t see why they have to hang out alone. Or why they have to touch.
“Call me darling again and I’ll key the word all over your car,” she growls, eyes narrowing.
Why the hell is she crying? My heart is about to burst looking at her tears.
Aren’t tears supposed to mean ‘sad’? I don’t get women.
“Cadence, you’re hooking up with your stalker now?”
I offered my body up on a platter, and it didn’t mean as much as a simple phone call. An invitation into my life. A promise to share my thoughts, my burdens, my words.
That’s like a homeless guy having Oprah’s phone number.”
You sure you can handle being married to a stubborn girl like that? She won’t let you win any arguments.”
“You keep spacing out on me.” “You talk too much,” I mumble.
“We’re not going to be that cheesy couple who says ‘I love you’ every second. That’s gross,” I murmur.
“Throwing up in your wedding dress is your definition of ‘fine’?” I growl, worried out of my mind.
