Addiction

Chapter 2-2

THE CEREMONY WENT OFF without a hitch. Once they'd gotten over the collective moment of holding their breath when the minister asked if anyone present knew of any reason the pair should not be married, it was all downhill.

Afterward, the happy couple strode back down the aisle hand-in-hand, smiling and kissing along the way. It was all very cutesy and sickening to Logan. He started forward, intending to offer some form of congratulations – he could be grown up about this, on the outside, at least – when a short, round woman shoved him aside, where he landed on his ass with a soft thud, the hard wood of the pew bruising his behind.

“Harry,” she gushed. “Marie. What a wonderful couple you are. Allow me to offer my congratulations to you both on this magnificent day!”

“Are you okay?” The voice was gentle and somewhat shy.

Logan turned his head with a frown, intending to bluster his way out of conversation, when he noticed who was talking to him. The pretty little blond in the killer red dress. Oh, man she was so hot he was half afraid to touch her, but he took the offered hand and allowed her to pull him to his feet. “I'm fine, thank you.” He busied himself tugging his jacket into place.

“Great Aunt Tess can be quite rude,” she admitted with a blush. “I apologize on her behalf. It's nice to meet you...”

He stuck out his hand, again capturing her smaller one and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Lo– ”

“Come on, come on. They're doing the pictures outside and you're needed, girl.” It was the other lady in red, come to snatch his prize away. “Sorry,” she wrinkled her nose at him, making Logan wonder if she knew him. “I'm sure you can catch up with your friend later.”

With that, the older woman dragged the girl away, their heels going clippetty-clop on the slate floor of the church. “Damn,” he muttered, before remembering it was rude to swear in church. He watched the girl's ass as it went. “Hate to see you leave,” he whispered. “But love to watch you go.” Perhaps there would be some fun at this reception after all.

An elderly woman paused as he spoke, and he tried not to squirm under the glare she gave him. “Young ruffian,” she accused, tapping her way outside with her walking stick.

“Young, dumb and full of...” What way did that saying go, again? He shrugged, wondering if there was a bus or if he should try and find his own way to the reception. Figuring he could walk it, he exited the church and followed the small group of people who were also walking, depending on them to lead the way.

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