“Real mature,” she mumbles.
“You bring out the best in me.” I slide out and offer her my hand. “Come on, Wife, don’t smile too hard. I would hate for your cheeks to strain; they’re important for certain activities.”
Yanking her up out of the car, she squeezes my hand. “Gag. Your dick is not going near my mouth. In fact, we didn’t even establish rules for that aspect of our blessed union.”
“There are none. Let’s just put on a good show, and consider it practice for our family.”
Hadley rumbles another sound because she knows I’m right and begins to step in front of me up the stairs. My head tilts slightly to check out her ass because it’s worth a look, and I’m going to reap all my husbandly perks.
Up the stairs I go, and I come to stand by my wife who looks at everyone. Our moment of opportunity is here. I slide my arm around her middle, gently squeezing her ass in the process which causes her to yelp softly. I bring her close to me with a bright smile glued on my face.
“Is the champagne out, boys?” I ask the plane.
“What are we celebrating?” Shawn asks as he holds up an empty flute, waiting for an attendant to fill his glass.
I lean down to kiss the top of my wife’s head because we have a part to play, and it may be years later, but fuck it, Hadley still smells like cupcakes. “You tell them,” I encourage her.
She giggles awkwardly to herself before loosening her tight smile a smidgen. “We got married last night… I’m Mrs. Connor Spears.” Hadley shows her ring finger, and everyone goes silent for a few seconds, until cheers erupt, and the sound of a cork follows after.
My hockey crowd may be easy, but Hadley and I can agree on one thing; our families will be, by no means, a breeze.
* * *
It wasa quick flight back to Lake Spark. Sure, people had questions, but Hadley and I stayed firm that we were married, with no plans to write this down as a drunk mistake. We had feelings bubbling over after years watching one another grow up. It may be a fairytale we spew, but there is some half-truth to it. I also know that we are running out of time before our news goes public, which is why I drove us straight to my Aunt Violet’s floral shop, The Flower Jar.
I’m close with my aunt Violet; she was only eleven when I was born, and the age difference makes her more like a friend.
Hadley is grabbing some items from the general store or Jolly Joe’s, the bakery nearby, that she mentioned were essential for dinner, and we agreed to meet back here. Walking into The Flower Jar, the bell instantly announces my arrival.
“Connor!” My aunt Violet is quick to greet me with a hug. Her dark hair is down today, and she never looks like a woman who only got two hours of sleep due to having a kid; she’s a natural beauty.
I notice my uncle near the parrot’s cage, holding my three-year-old cousin Willow, my goddaughter. He steps closer to us, and I feel like his face is stoic because he already knows. “Hey, Connor.” He doesn’t blink, which raises caution in me. I was hoping to speak with Aunt Violet alone, since she’s my sounding board.
“Hey,” is all I can offer him, and it’s awkward, can’t deny that.
“How was your trip?” my aunt asks as she signs off on an order form and hands it to the
assistant.
“Yes. Do tell.” Crap. My Uncle Declan for sure knows. I can tell he is waiting for me to spill the beans.
I scratch the back of my neck. “It was… Vegas.”
My aunt looks at her husband, as she seems thrown off by my answer. Her eyes swim back to me. “And? You had a big group going, right?” She tries to keep the conversation moving.
I swipe my hand across my jaw. “Something kind of happened.”
My aunt grabs my wrist when she notices something, then examines my finger. “What the hell is this?”
“I kind of wanted to see you first before my parents find out,” I begin. “I’m going to
need a lot of sunflowers.” That’s my flower of choice that I give my mom when I want to butter her up, and it works. Every. Single. Time.
She shakes my hand. “Why do you have a wedding ring on?”
I take a deep breath. “I kind of… got married.”
Her jaw drops open as she releases my wrist like a hot potato. “You don’t have a girlfriend. You have flings. Now you’re telling me that you went to Vegas and got married?”
