(555) 555-0101: They don’t understand me.
(555) 555-0101: I’m sure you don’t understand me. But I could show you how good it could be.
(555) 555-6672: Look I could get my uncle to promote you. Aren’t you tired of working on the street? Dealing with drunk bitches like me?
(555) 555-6672: You could be more than just a beat cop. My uncle could help you.
(555) 555-6672: You just have to contact me. We can start small. Like have a drink with me
(555) 555-6672: We could go to a bar. Or someplace more personal
(555) 555-6672: Your place?
(555) 555-6672: Mine?
(555) 555-6672: Stop ignoring me! You don’t understand what I’m capable of.
Crois pushed those messages out of his head.
Everything that was connected to Veronica Catalano was… radiation. Nuclear sludge.
Any contact he had with her was dangerous to his health.
His attention needed to be focused on the woman walking beside him.
She deserved it.
She deserved everything.
When he stopped walking, he turned to look at her.
The solar lights in the rose garden gave him enough light to see her face.
It was a warm golden light that made her look like she was amber colored.
“Honey.”
He couldn’t see the blush on her cheeks, but he could imagine it.
He could tell by her expression that she was pink across her cheeks and to the tips of her ears.
“Thank you for coming with me to the wedding.”
“Thanks,” she tipped her head a little to the side, “for asking me.”
“You look amazing in that dress.”
She swayed closer to him and her free hand raised to touch his chest, smoothing over his lapel. “And I’m going to have dreams about you in this tux.”
Crois smiled. “It’s a rental, but if you like it that much, I’m buying one.”
“Yeah?” He heard her soft laughter. “Is it expensive?”
He leaned in. “If you like it that much, it’ll be worth it.”
She shook her head and then stopped. “I’m not going to tell you what to do.”
He moved closer, circling his arms around her. “I wouldn’t mind if you told me what to do. Especially when we’re alone like this.”
