My phone buzzed in my pocket. I ignored it.
“Smart man,” Trixie murmured against my neck.
“I’m learning.”
She pulled back to look at me, and there was something soft in her expression. Something that made my chest tight in the best way.
“Hey,” she said. “I can’t wait to marry you.”
I kissed her, slow and sweet, not caring that my brothers were probably making gagging noises somewhere behind us.
“I can’t wait to marry you too, Chickadee.”
One week. I could make it one week without driving everyone crazy.
Probably.
COMMAND LOG 1: OPERATION DEBAUCHERY
LUKE
Red Rooster 5: Leader of Pet Squadron
The Millennihen Falcon
This is an outrage. It wasn’t enough that the Beakless Menace moved into MY home, and sleeps with MY Trixie every night. Or that he hired men who make noise from sun up to sun down, making changes to enlarge Trixie’s coop to accommodate his giant featherless head. Or that he collects my unborn children for his “Brake Fast”.
HE HAS KIDNAPPED TRIXIE.
SHE IS GONE FOREVER (It has been two days)
I AM ALONE (With my entire flock)
STARVING (Until the corngiver comes to feed me twice daily)
LEFT TO DEFEND MYSELF FROM THE ELEMENTS (Inside of my state-of-the-art chicken coop)
I demand that he return her at once before I stage a coop coup. I will attack him where it hurts. In particular his worm like toes and naked tail. He will know no peace.
THE TUSH PUSH
TRIXIE
It might be my wedding day, but Luke Skycocker still had me up early, singing me the song of his people. I woke up alone in my bed, a phenomenon that hadn’t happened since the beginning of the off season. The fact that my mother had spontaneously burst into a flame of traditionalism and insisted Chris and I spend the night apart for good luck was ridiculous. I couldn’t sleep well without him.
When Chris moved in, he’d surprised me by insisting on my house instead of his bigger, fancier one across the street. He said he didn’t want to disturb the chickens, and he liked the idea of our kids growing up where I did. He’d immediately started expanding the place for our future little Kingmans—including building a new master suite on the opposite end of the house from Everett’s place next door. Something about nosy neighbors who didn’t respect boundaries. I hadn’t asked for details.
I was just about to get out of bed when I heard a tapping on the sliding glass door that led to the balcony off our bedroom. I panicked, thinking Luke had somehow flown up here to peck at the glass, but unless he’d learned the power of speech in the last twenty-four hours, it couldn’t be him calling my name.
“Chris, is that you?” I asked.
“Yeah, babe, it’s me. Open the door.”
I threw the covers off and started running around the room like a chicken with its head cut off. My wedding dress, a gorgeous Rose Vond original, was hanging from the closet door where I’d put it so I could stare at it as I fell asleep. I grabbed it, shoved it into the closet, and slammed the door shut before he could get a peek. Then I threw back the curtains to find him standing on the other side of the glass in gray sweatpants and a hoodie, waving.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper-yelled, pulling him through the open door and into our bedroom. My parents were sleeping on the other side of the house, and I felt like I was about to get caught sneaking a boy into my room. Just like all the times I never did as a teenager.
“Babe, I missed you. I had to see you.” He nestled into my neck, and my resolve immediately started crumbling.
