“They’re removing a wooden post, and then we should be good to go. Probably five more minutes, I’dguess.”
“Well, then, we’ve got time to get my wifesomefood.”
Ignoring the clicks of the cameras, Jake took my hand and headed to the counter. Every person in the building was gawking at the scene we were making. A barefoot woman in a wedding gown at a fast food restaurant was unique enough, but when you paired her with a world-famous musician, the interest level more thanquadrupled.
His bodyguards followed close behind, ready to take down any overzealous hamburglars, but we needn’t have worried, as everyone was on their best behavior. Again, I couldn’t get over the turn-out at such a late hour. I mean, who knew this many people got the munchies at one in themorning?
Our turn arrived, and Jake orderedforus.
“Small, medium, or large?” the cashierasked.
Jake glanced at me forguidance.
“The bigger the better,” I said, getting dangerously close to gnawing on the countertop if this ordering business got anyslower.
The young male cashier actually looked between the two of us before settling his stare on Jake as if to confirm he was okay with his new bride taking on such a demanding challenge at thislatehour.
I snorted inirritation.
Jake smiled in amusement at my reaction before wisely backing me up. “You heard the lady. It’s her wedding day.Supersizeher.”
Our hotel was onlya few blocks away. Our driver pulled into the valet section of the parking garage and let us be so Jake and I could remain in the back of the limo, eating our late night meal and enjoying being alone together for the first time as husbandandwife.
“Okay, here’s another one,” I said, lazily running my finger over the veins on the back of his hand. “When I’m stressed or anxious, I do math in my head to calmmyselfdown.”
“Why are all your confessions so damnnerdy?”
Nudging him playfully with my bare foot, I said, “Oh, I’m so sorry I don’t have a more socially relevant catalog ofphobias.”
“Do not,” Jake warned, forcibly pushing my toes off his tuxedo pants, “touch me with those! You know I can’t stomach your feet withoutprotection.”
That only prompted more foot worship, in the form of me rubbing mine all over him. Jake screamed his displeasure before relocating to the other side of the limo and defending himself with a pair of appetizer forks he’d found onthebar.
“Really, Jake? Do you honestly think those tiny forks will protect you? Perhaps you forget I come from a hearty stock of women with podiatry issues. Bunions are the least of ourproblems.”
“Ooh, yeah, I’m so scared. It’s not like there’s a multitude of foot conditions in theworld.”
“You’re joking, right?” I employed the use of my fingers to aid in the countdown of the painful conditions I’d probably inherit one day. “There’s corns, calluses, plantar fasciitis, ingrown toenails, plantar warts, and let’s not forget my personal favorite,hammertoe.”
“Stop!” He grimaced, covering his ears. “Please makeitstop.”
I felt no sympathy for the plight he now found himself in. “Hey, buddy, you had two full years to ask the pertinent questions. Now we’re married, and there are no give-backs.”
“See, I feel like you were hiding this particular issuefromme.”
“It would seem that way, wouldn’t it? Anyway, enough about me. It’s your turn. Hit me with anotherconfession.”
He sighed, straining hard to come up with another entry into our ‘Who’s weirder?’ game. “Okay, I never drink the last gulp ofanything.”
I pondered what he’d said a moment before scrunching up my nose and asking, “Really?Why?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. It grossesmeout.”
“So you just leave a little bit ineverycup?”
Henodded.
“Wow, Jake, that’s just so incrediblyweird.”
