Which is why I’ve devised a plan.
Conor’s over in the corner, canoodling with his girlfriend, who I rarely see not attached to his face anymore, when I snap my fingers at him.
“I need ye to do something for me.”
He groans and Ivy smiles up at him, genuinely head over heels for the poor lad. I’m glad he finally found someone to make him grow a pair of balls.
“I’ll be back after,” he tells her before he swaggers up to me.
“What do you need?”
“Well for one thing, you can wipe that shit eating grin off your face,” I tell him. “It’s my wedding day and I’m the one who should be getting laid.”
He smirks, and it really isn’t helping.
“Got a bad case of blue balls?”
“You have no bleeding idea,” I say. “Mammy hasn’t let up all week. Scarlett’s not been in my bed for seven days.”
“Well she will tonight,” he assures me.
“Nah, it can’t wait mate.” I shake my head. “I need a distraction.”
“What are you thinking?” he asks.
“Something with the flowers, maybe. Make the bouquet disappear for a wee bit. Leave a ransom note. I don’t bloody care, just fucking make it happen.”
“On it,” he says, whistling as he walks away.
Next, I flag down Crow, because I know my mammy, and one distraction isn’t going to be enough.
“Already got it handled,” Crow tells me before I can say anything. “Mack’s about to require some emergency repairs on her dress. It should buy you twenty minutes, at least.”
“Thanks, mate.” I slap him on the back and then roll my eyes when I see his disheveled shirt. “Let me guess, you helped her with the dress issue?”
He shrugs, and I shake my head.
Everybody’s getting laid but me.
Once Mack is in mammy’s sights, I’m peeling out of there like my shoes are on fire. Scarlett’s in the dressing room when I find her, and she smirks when she sees me sneaking in.
She’s dead gorgeous.
My mammy actually convinced her to wear white. Some princessy poofy gown and all. And just the thought of knowing how bad my little Satan is, wearing such an innocent color, makes me harder than I’ve ever been.
“It’s about time,” she says.
“How’d ye even know I would come?” I ask.
“It’s been seven days,” she says. “I knew you would come.”
She told me last week about this fantasy she’d always had in her head about her wedding day. While most girls dream of the flowers and the cake and the jewelry, Scarlett was thinking how hot it’d be to have her groom sneak in and fuck her dirty before she walks down the aisle.
Which is precisely what I intend to do.
“Come on.” I grab her hand and drag her into a closet that locks from the inside. “We don’t have much time.”
“You’re really scared of your mom,” she laughs. “Aren’t you?”
