She nodded, eyes widening slightly. The moment was broken by the server.
“Have you had a chance to look at the menu?”
I gestured to Avery.
“Er, yes, I’ll have the twenty-four-ounce steak, extremely rare, garlic-and-parmesan mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, and a salad.”
“Same for me except Brussels sprouts, not the carbs,” I said.
The server nodded.
“You’re going to eat all of that?” I asked in amazement when the server left.
She reddened slightly. “I may take some home.”
“Am I not paying you enough?”
She crossed her arms defensively. “Don’t worry about it.”
8
Avery
He glared at me.
“You’re going to be my wife,” Blade insisted. “It’s now my job to worry about it.”
“I’m not really going to be your wife,” I countered.
Blade nodded. “We’re going to legally be married. And besides, you just said I had to act like a better boyfriend.”
“Harassing me about my personal life is not what I meant,” I hissed.
“Asking about your well-being is not harassing.”
I was saved by the food…or not. The steak was comically huge.
Edward better appreciate this.
I cut off a small piece. It was delicious. The macaroni and cheese was even better. I wanted to eat the whole serving, but Edward would be grumpy.
Blade cut off a large piece of his steak, his knife scraping the plate. We ate in silence. It was as if we’d skipped the honeymoon and the lovey-dovey dating stage and gone straight to decade four, by which time we had run out of things to talk about.
“Afraid someone’s going to steal that?” I asked Blade as he cut off another large piece of steak and shoved it into his mouth. He chewed, swallowed, and looked down. He’d probably polished off a pound of meat in about five minutes.
“I grew up in a cult. Food was scarce. You had to eat fast or someone would steal it.”
“Good gracious.”
“Having second thoughts about getting married?” he asked, taking a sip of his scotch.
My stomach churned. Every time I thought about actually marrying some guy I barely knew, I wanted to hurl. Blade must have seen the look on my face.
“It will be fine,” he said, his voice a reassuring rumble. “I’m not going to take your house. I don’t need it. I’ll win my contract, you’ll inherit your property. It’s just business. People have been getting married for money for thousands of years. This is probably going to be one of the most honest marriages in New York.”
I nodded then sank in my seat. Ivy, Grace, and Amy from Weddings in the City trooped into the restaurant, laughing. They had large portfolios with them, probably filled with the designs for dream weddings.
Blade glanced over.
