Archie sniffs. “If she vomits, we’re outside. The wildlife will clean it up.”
My nose wrinkles. “Ew.”
Archie turns to me as Stryker drops his hand, but not his glare. “Don’t worry, love. She won’t chuck.” He side-eyes her. “After all, it would beunbelievably rudeto lose your hold on your stomach at someone’s wedding, wouldn’t you say?”
I would. I really, really would.
“No one is doing anything gross,” Rosie declares. “We’re having a beautiful wedding, after which we will have a beautiful reception.”
Millie whimpers, but does not otherwise do anything distressing.
“Blessings,” Heidi whispers. “I’m a sympathetic puker. That could have been bad.”
“Can we stop talking about puke at my wedding?” Archie asks. “It’s making Sarelia uncomfortable.”
“Me?” I ask. “I’m not uncomfortable. I’m super comfortable. Comfort princess, me. Never been more comfortable in my life.”
Archie’s lips twitch, and he reaches for my hand, gently removing my nails from where they’ve embedded themselves into my palms.
Ah. “Sorry,” I whisper.
“Don’t apologize,” he whispers back, then, louder, “They’re going to stop being annoying now, and we’re going to finish ourbeautiful wedding, to be followed by our beautiful reception. Right, everyone?”
A murmur of agreement sounds, and Archie taps me on the nose before turning his attention to Stryker. “I believe it’s time for you to tell me to kiss her,” he says.
My lungs cease functioning.
I knew about the kissing part of the wedding. Obviously. Everyone knows about the kissing part of the wedding.
However.
It hits me quite suddenly that I am going to bedoingthe kissing part of the wedding, and I will be doing it withArchie Pine, also known as CinnaRoll47426, also known as the man I’ve been obsessively molding my life around for the past decade.
His lips are going to be on mine.
Mylips are going to be onhis.
Oh my gosh, I should have asked for a mint before we came here. Or to brush my teeth. Or for a brand new mouth that has never once eaten anything with garlic or onions in it.
“Breathe,” Stryker orders. “No fainting.”
“I’m not going to faint,” I wheeze, swaying on my feet. “What a ridiculous notion.”
“Only Millie faints,” he barks. “Sarelia does not faint.Milliefaints.”
Archie’s hand in mine squeezes, anchoring me.
“I can see that you feel very strongly about this,” he mutters. “But perhaps you could refrain from scolding my bride on her wedding day, hm?”
Stryker says nothing, but he doesn’t need to. His displeasure with my weak constitution is ripe in the air.
“I’m not going to faint,” I repeat, struggling to catch a full breath and make my words reality. “I might hyperventilate, though.”
Stryker considers this, then nods. “That’s fine. Millie doesn’t hyperventilate very often.”
“Oh, well, if it’sfinewith you.” Archie rolls his eyes, then turns fully toward me. “With me, my love. In, out. In, out.”
Our eyes lock, and I follow his instructions as he comes so near that the air I’m breathing in is the same air he’s breathing out.
