Filthy English
“Dammit. We need rings though,” I said, thinking, my eyes going around the vestibule entry. There was nothing here to use. I pulled out my wallet and fingered a fiver. “I can fold a couple of these and make them?”
Her lips twitched. “I have a couple of hair ties in my bag. Let’s use those.”
She pulled out a wad of colored rubber bands, and between us we selected our “rings.” I picked out the brown one and she picked a blue one, wrapping them around our respective index fingers to make them smaller.
I bent down on one knee and held up the “sapphire ring.”
“Remi, will you be my good lady wife?”
A slow blush started at her neck and covered her face. She bit her lip.
“Don’t you fancy me, love?” I clutched my heart, using all the dramatic acting skill I possessed, which wasn’t much. “Am I not enough for you?”
She barked out a laugh and then sobered. “Since the moment we met,” she said softly, her eyes darker than usual, an indigo-blue.
I rolled my eyes. “Good one.” She smiled. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” she murmured.
I slid the band on her finger and stood. She stared down at it, her brows drawn in and lines around her eyes.
My shoulders slumped. “Remi? Shit, I’m sorry. We can stop if this isn’t fun—”
She swallowed. “No, no. Just give me a minute.”
“Are you thinking about Hartford?” I asked. “I’m being insensitive. Of course—”
“No, I’m not actually.” She looked from the ring to me, a thoughtful expression on her face. Our eyes locked, and she smiled tentatively, seeming to come to a decision. “Come on, my new fiancé, we just got engaged. Let’s go talk to the friar.”
I grabbed the tequila from the floor where I’d set it when we came inside, and we headed back inside the sanctuary.
MY HEART CLENCHED when Dax got on one knee and for half a second, it had felt real.
But it wasn’t.
Girls were a game to Dax, and I had to keep that front and center.
We went inside the sanctuary and found Friar Laurence. He grinned as Dax explained what we wanted, and he was more than happy to fake-wed us. Apparently it wasn’t the strangest thing he’d been asked to do inside the shop.
We gathered next to one of the tattoo stations, and with the sounds of machines running and a girl screaming over getting her nipple pierced, we prepared to exchange vows.
Not exactly the First United Methodist Church of Raleigh.
I slipped the “topaz” band on Dax’s finger. My eyes met his.
“I need some vows to really get into this,” he said with a wicked grin. “You go first.”
I laughed, surprisingly willing to go along with his carefree attitude. Dax had always had the uncanny ability to make me feel easy about almost anything—except breaking my heart.
“Fine. I take you, Dax, my friend, as my pretend-husband. I promise to drink tequila with you forever, but if you need me, I will write goals for you, make spreadsheets, flowcharts, and contracts.” I grinned. “If you insist, I will also eat with you at Panera.”
He considered me, his eyes the color of morning mist.
“Well?”
He cleared his throat, a suddenly serious expression on his face as he slid the blue band on my finger. “Dearest Remi, I take you as my pretend-wife. I promise to be your protector and never leave the toilet seat up. I’ll kill all the spiders, and I’ll attempt to not freak out when you compare my body parts to birds or make me sign contracts.” He sent me a heated look. “I promise to cherish you until my last breath.”
My mouth parted. I exhaled.
Give that boy an Academy Award.
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” Friar Laurence said with a solemnity that made me nervous.
“Wait. This isn’t real is it?” I asked the monk.
He chuckled and shrugged. “I am an ordained minister.”
“He’s teasing,” Dax said, pulling my attention back to him.
Oh.
“Now what?” I asked, looking from the Friar and back to Dax. “Don’t we kiss or something?”
The Friar smiled, eyeing us both dubiously. “Do whatever you want. I’ve done my job here, and I have a client waiting.” He pointed to another station where a lanky guy was busy tattooing a customer. “That’s Zack. He’ll be doing your art today in about an hour. Just go on over when you’re ready.”
He walked away, and we turned back toward each other.
Dax took my hand and laced our fingers together.
Were we going to kiss?
My eyes went to his mouth, taking in the plump curve of his sculpted lower lip, the indentation.
“You’re looking at me like you want to kiss me,” he said with a naughty chuckle.
“Maybe. It is the final step in a marriage ceremony.”
“Just don’t fall back in love with me,” he teased.
“Pffft—who said I ever did? Plus, I’ll think of England the entire time.”
“You’ll think only about me because I kiss that good.”
“You’re a cocky bastard,” I said, smiling.
Another chuckle. “True. Do we need to tear up our contract?”
I thought about it. Shrugged. “No. This is pretend.”
A knowing gleam lit his eyes. “Admit it, I’m irresistible.”