“That’s right,” I confirmed.
“Why?” she pressed, leaning forward slightly. “What’s wrong with a little wine?”
“It makes you mouthy,” I replied.
She scoffed, turning the page, and her eyes widened slightly. “And what’s this?”
“Our wedding contract. I had my lawyer draw it up. Everything is there—a fair and balanced agreement. All it needs is your signature.”
A hesitant smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “I appreciate the effort,” she said, her gaze flitting back to the document. “I’ll definitely look everything over soon.”
“Would tonight be feasible?” I pressed gently. “There’s quite a bit to go through, and I’d love to get the ball rolling as soon as possible.”
“Tonight? You’re kidding. There’s no way I can get through all of this by tonight. Legal jargon puts me to sleep. Give me a reasonable timeframe, and I promise a thorough review.”
“You have until Wednesday evening.”
“Fine. But consider this a warning. If there’s anything even slightly out of line hidden in the fine print, I won’t hesitate to dissect this document line by line and rewrite your terms entirely.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you,” I replied. “And once you finish reading it, we should talk about wedding plans.”
“I’ll have to sit down with my momma about the arrangements.”
“Arrangements?” I wondered. She hadn’t done this yet? “Surely, you already have something in place from your ... previous engagement.”
She looked up at me as if I’d caught her in some sort of lie. “No.”
“No?” I repeated. “Nearly a year engaged to the man and no wedding plans?”
“I never got around to it,” she admitted.
“Never got around to it?” I pressed. “You stalled for an entire year? That won’t be happening this time. Consider this your deadline. You have a week.”
“A week?” she sputtered. “That’s barely enough time for a bachelorette party!”
I cut her off with a sharp laugh. “Nah, we’re not doing all that. I can’t go to that.”
Her jaw clenched. “That’s the whole point,” she sighed. “A night to let loose before I’m shackled to your side.”
“You must be out of your pretty little mind.”
“Hardly,” she scoffed. “It’s tradition—a chance to say goodbye to my single life with the women who know me best.”
“A tradition I will happily break,” I said, my voice firm.
“Don’t be a ridiculous man. Have you met my sister? She lives and breathes weddings. She’d never be okay with me having a bachelorette party that’s justthrowntogether.”
Jesus Christ.Why did she have to make things so difficult? It wasn’t as if my life depended on it or anything.
“Okay. Five. You have five weeks,” I stated.
“Five?”
“That seems like a reasonable timeframe.”
I couldn’t shake the feeling this was more than just a simple task for her. It was a battleground. A place where she could assert her independence, her defiance. As if she hadn’t made my life hell already.
“Fine,” she said with a shrug.
