“I do have some chocolate varieties if you’d like to try a few. They’re almost like brownies.”
Nylah declined.
But I loved brownies and fudge. “I’ll give them a try.”
Nylah elbowed me as Nina left us a third time to retrieve the chocolate samples. “You’re going to get sick.”
“I won’t,” I promised, kissing her forehead. “Iron stomach.”
Nina returned with the chocolate samples, and I ate all four. She shook her head with a giggle. “You must love chocolate.”
“Just cupcakes and brownies.” I shrugged, not stating the reason, or sharing with Nina that my mother always baked fudge brownies, and it had been my favorite growing up. Made me think of her and smile.
“Are you sure you want to stick with the Chantilly cake?”
“We are,” I assured her, squeezing Nylah’s hand as I held it.
She squeezed back in confirmation.
We stuck around for another hour, deciding on the decorations and colors, and went with a black, red, and white theme with edible sugar lace hearts and roses.
Nylah surprised the shit outta me when she pulled a cake topper from her purse and handed it to Nina. It looked like us. A curvy blonde wrapping her legs around her groom’s waist as he held her, wearing dark jeans, a black shirt that looked like a tuxedo, and a black leather vest that even had my road name on it like my cut.
Fucking perfect.
“You did good, beloved,” I praised her as she beamed a wide smile.
We stopped for real food after that, and I took her to lunch at Millie’s Diner. I settled on fried fish and chips while she got Millie’s famous roasted chicken and vegetables. Everything was great until I sat on my Harley, hoping the churning in my gut was a fluke.
By the time I got her home, I was beginning to feel sick. My stomach protested all that I’d put into it today, which surprised me. There was a reason I said I had an iron stomach. I could eat almost anything, and spice never bothered me.
Until now.
My stomach chose that moment to gurgle.
And I knew, Ifucking knew, I had better rush to the toilet.
I barely made it in time.
Nylah knocked on the door after about half an hour, checking in on me. “Rael? Are you okay?”
“Don’t come in here,” I warned her. She might decide not to marry me just from the fucking smell in this bathroom. I was going to have to open a window, burn matches, and say a fucking prayer to get the stench out.
Fucking hell.
“Um, is your belly upset?”
She asked me like I was Gavin or Gage. I wanted to laugh or tell her to fuck off. Neither was a good choice.
It wasn’t my ol’ lady’s fault.
“I’m fine,” I lied.
“Well, if you need anything, text me. I’ll just be in the living room with the boys.” She paused. “With the volume up.”
Fuck. My. Life.
She heard me. I sighed loudly. “Thanks, Nylah.”
