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1043 Words
Holy s**t. It worked.
“Dani, it’s me.”
“Emery?”
“Yeah.”
“Why does my phone show caller unknown?”
“I’m using this freaky batphone Callum gave me. I don’t even really know how the thing works. Voice command, it seems like. He probably had it custom made by Elon Musk.”
Her tone turns excited. “Callum gave you a phone?”
I look around the sumptuous closet and sigh. “Yeah. He gave me something else too.”
“Oh God. If you say herpes, I’ll kill him.”
“No, i***t! Why would you think that?”
“Because you sound like you just went to a funeral.”
“Close. A wedding.”
There’s a pause, then she says flatly, “You did not.”
“I did.”
The shriek that comes over the line is so loud, I blink. Then she screams, “You did not marry Callum f*****g McCord! Oh my God, b***h, tell me you’re joking!”
“I’m not joking. I’m standing in the middle of his ginormous closet in his gargantuan master bedroom in his castle of a house as we speak.”
Hyperventilating, she says, “How? When you left after dinner, you said you texted him. What in the fuckity-f**k happened between now and then that ends up with you married?”
She pauses to take a breath, then demands, “And why didn’t you invite me to the wedding, asshole?”
Rubbing my forehead, I say, “It was more like a shotgun wedding, only without the pregnancy.”
Thinking about the whirlwind day makes me tired. And, honestly, a little depressed.
I’ve never been one of those girls who dreams her whole life about the big white wedding she wants, but having a ring jammed onto my finger by a controlling stranger, then getting thrown over his shoulder and into his car wasn’t exactly what I expected either.
“It all happened so fast. He showed up at my house unannounced, we had a really strange talk that didn’t solve anything, then he came to the shop this morning with a contract and gave Harper, Viv, and Taylor spontaneous orgasms when they saw him. Then he called a while later to go over the details of the paperwork, and we had another strange conversation that didn’t solve anything except that I agreed to marry him. Then he hung up on me and showed up not even half an hour later with his attorney and, get this, a f*****g chaplain. And then, basically…we said our vows.”
That muffled thud I hear is probably Dani collapsing into the nearest chair.
I say drily, “If you think that was interesting, wait until I tell you what he said to me in the car after the ceremony.”
“What?”
“That he wanted to s***k my p***y until I squirted on his hand.”
After a moment of silence, Dani breathes, “There is a God.”
I groan. “All I know is that I’m standing in a stranger’s closet with nothing but a signed copy of Outlander, a weird cell phone, and a black American Express card to keep me company, and I’m pretty sure I’m having a nervous breakdown. Can you please come over here and hold my hand?”
“Back up. Did you say black American Express card?”
“Yes.”
Her voice thrilled, Dani says, “Oh, honey. I know the perfect way to cure a nervous breakdown.”
“What?”
“Therapy.”
When I blow out a breath, she laughs. “Retail therapy. You just married a billionaire, Em. Let’s go shopping.”
I think for a moment, then smile. “And this is why I love you.”
“Should I come pick you up?”
“No, I’ve got a better idea.” My smile grows bigger. “What’s your favorite color for a Ferrari?”
Sixteen
I
t turns out the answer to that question is red.
When I pull up in Dani’s driveway in the Ferrari Daytona SP3 that Arlo gave me the keys to and honk the horn, she runs out of the house as if it’s on fire, screaming and waving her arms.
“I can’t believe this s**t! Oh my God, this isn’t happening! You have a Ferrari!” She stops shouting and stares at my left hand, resting on the steering wheel. “And a giant hunk of ice. Is that thing real?”
“At this point, I don’t think anything is real. Get in the car.”
She frowns at the door. “How? There’s no handle.”
“Lean down. It’s tucked under the swoop in the door. But watch out when you press it, because the door opens up, not out.”
Dani leans over and presses the handle, then jumps back in surprise when the door does exactly what I said it would.
She leans in to inspect the interior with wide eyes. “This thing is like a spaceship! How fast does it go?”
“I don’t know, but Arlo said it’s got a V12 engine with more than 800 horsepower, so I’m thinking pretty damn fast.”
When she hesitates, looking doubtfully at the contoured seat with the shoulder belt straps like a race car has, I say, “I won’t go over the speed limit. Promise.”
“That’s exactly what you said that time we got pulled over on PCH and almost got thrown in jail for doing over a hundred.”
“Yeah, but I was nineteen.”
She purses her lips. “You say that like you’ve matured in the last eleven years.”
“Get in the car, Dani.”
She climbs in, figures out how to get the door closed, then buckles the seat belt and shoulder straps. Then Ryan walks out of the house, mouth open and eyes bugging, holding a squirming Mia in his arms.
“Holy s**t,” he breathes, gazing reverently at the Ferrari like he sees an image of the Virgin Mary in the paint. “Do you have any idea how much this car costs?”
- Writer
