I could wax poetically about him for days. He’s the man I want to fall asleep with every day, and who I’m maybe a little unhealthily obsessed with. I’m already considering ways of adjusting my life just so I can spend more time with him.
When he descends the steps and finally grabs my hand, I squeeze it to reassure myself that it’s solid. This is not a dream. A month ago, I was meant to die for the amusement of the Van der Horn family, and now this amazing man is making me a part of the same clan. The greatest writers couldn’t have made this shit up.
Corvus stalls when the guests cheer for us, still self-conscious about being open with his sexuality, but I offer him a smile, and he dives in, kissing me with a tenderness no one ever touched me with. I might not be a precious piece of porcelain, but damn, does it feel good to be handled like one sometimes!
“Quite the ride you have there,” Roger, Corvus’s uncle, states, approaching to pat my back. The frost on his horseshoe mustache glints in the colors of winter, and I suppose he appreciates that his cowboy hat is not completely out of place among the gothic finery.
“It’s fucking sick!” Aspen exclaims and pats the front wheel with amazement glimmering in his blue eyes. He turns to his dad. “Can I take it for a spin?”
Roger shakes his head. “Not now, Aspen. You’ve done enough damage today.”
I don’t dare askwhathe’s done. Corvus would probably call his ‘dressy’ tracksuit and shirt with tie combo criminal enough.
Aspen rolls his eyes and walks off, so I guess he came over for the truck, not for the actual grooms.
Roger clears his throat. “So, as I was saying, Karl might be more conservative, but I appreciate the pomp and extravagance.” I have to quickly remember who Karl was, as there are so many Van der Horns I struggle to keep track of them, but Roger must mean his brother and the big wig himself. I’ll try to remember this bit of animosity between them, as navigating these relationships will be part of my life now.
Corvus might be still holding my hand, but he steps forward, alarmed. “Did Aspen do something I should be aware of?”
Roger flushes and clears his throat. “Well… his ideas for surprises can be a bit too much—”
“Where is he?” Corvus asks, absent-mindedly nodding at every person tapping him in greeting.
Ah, a man on a mission. I love how proficient he is at dealing with everything. We were in the throes of preparation yesterday, yet he still found the time to talk me through a financial plan he came up with for me. He was talking a lot about investments and stocks, and I’m not quite sure I understood, but it doesn’t matter that much, since I trust him with it all.
Roger sighs. “Well, he’s gone inside, I think? But wait, Karl wanted to talk to you,” he adds, but it’s too late.
Corvus flashes me an apologetic smile. “I’ll see you there,” he says and walks off, like a shark on Aspen’s trail.
By ‘there’ he means at the altar, and I smile like an absolute goof.
Roger pats my shoulder. “We might have met in unfavorable circumstances, but you will be family now. If Karl gives you shit, you just come to me.”
That’s so unexpectedly kind, I don’t know what to say for a moment. I’m happy enough that I’ll be marrying Corvus, but in the meanwhile I’ve made friends with his mom, bonded with his cousins, and it looks like even the Van der Horn old guard is not about to shun me.
“Thank you,” I choke out. “I don’t have any family left, so it means a lot.”
“Did I hear my name?”
Most of the guests are already entering the church, but Damen’s father still lingers, his steel gray hair colored silver by the lights above us.
“I was just telling Dalton about that time I put crayfish in your boots.”
Karl scowls. “And you’re only alive because our father was still around. Don’t be tempted to do anything stupid,” he adds, capturing my gaze with eyes so intense I feel as if there’s a knife threatening my family jewels.
“I would never,” I say.
Karl smirks. “I was talking to my brother, but good. I’m pretty sure Corvus has avicegrip on you, if you catch my meaning.”
I can’t help it. I do think of the way Corvus’s ass squeezed me last night, but I’m pretty sure Karl is implying Corvus’s torture devices. “I’m ready to be of service however needed.”
Karl pats my shoulder. “Good man. I hope there’s no shrimp at the reception? I despise them.”
“Err, no, I don’t think there is.” But when my phone buzzes in my pocket, I know it’s time to move so I can finalize my surprise. “Thereis squid ink pasta though. It has no fishy flavor!” I assure him. “I’m sorry, I do have to go.”
People keep stopping me, even guests I have never met, but I try to politely promise to talk to them at the reception and hurry past the gate leading to the parsonage. My lips stretch into a smile when I see the truck belonging to the special effects company I hired with Daphne’s help. The wedding’s supposed to start in the next five minutes, so I hurry to meet the man standing at the back of the vehicle. I’ll just make sure he knows when to unleash the fireworks and speed back to the ceremony.
“Mister Cross?” The guy asks before shaking my hand and introducing himself as Steve. He sounds like a New Yorker, born and bred, and has the body language to match it. “I know you’re in a hurry, so I just need you to see the inventory and sign a contract.” His companion, a young man with a nose that was badly broken in the past, opens the back of the van, revealing a number of boxes. I lean inside, about to pretend I’m counting them when something collides with the back of my head.
