Dude. Is he being serious? “The guy who married us? The guy who married the actual bride and groom? Evy’s cousin!”
Maverick squints like I’ve recited an algebra equation in ancient Greek and he’s trying to solve it. “Wait. The guy with the karaoke mic, who kept hogging it all night? Shit.” His eyes widen. “He was a real minister? I thought that was part of the entertainment.”
“Oh my God,” I groan, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes. “You thought the live wedding ceremony—featuring you—was a bit?”
“I mean. People were clapping, but at the risk of soundingarrogant, that happens to me a lot.”
Oh my God.
I hold out my hand. “Where did this ring come from?” That is the million-dollar question.
“Hold up.” He presses his fingers to his temples. “I think ... yes. Okay. I may be totally wrong here, but—wasn’t there a jeweler at the wedding?”
“A jeweler?” Why would there be a jeweler at the wedding?
“There totally was.” He snaps his fingers. “I remember Evy’s brother Marcus saying the bride was bougie and borrowing diamonds for the ceremony—they had a whole display case of sparkly shit in one of the rooms. Necklaces, earrings, a whole tray of rings ...”
He trails off, face morphing into appalling realization in real time.
“You think we borrowed them?” I say, dreading the answer.
“Or stole them,” he gripes matter-of-factly.
“Maverick!” I sound as horrified as I feel.
“I’m just sayin’”—he raises both palms defensively—“we were tipsy. Andsuperjazzed about our fake wedding ceremony.”
Great. Just great.
Add thieving to our list of grievances for the prior evening—right behind trespassing, impersonating the ex-boyfriend of a cousin’s buddy’sfriend’s frat brother, and drunkenly taking sacred vows in front of a licensed youth pastor.
“We need to give them back.” I clutch my hand like the ring might spontaneously combust and take me to the gates of Hell.
“Towho?” Maverick asks, still blinking like a man freshly smacked in the face with a bouquet. “The jeweler? The bride? Pastor Dan?”
“I don’t know! Someone! Anyone!”
“Can’t we just have sex again?” He smiles at me. “This entire conversation is giving me a boner.”
I gape at him. “Are you being serious right now?”
Unbothered, Maverick props himself up on one elbow, grinning at me, fingers making their way to my bare chest. “You’re getting all hot and bothered, you’re naked, and we’re married. So yeah—suddenly I want to fuck again.”
My stomach flips.
His hands slide down my belly, between my legs. Thumb and forefinger begin rubbing the sensitive nub. “We’re married, and it’s giving me a hard-on, babe.” He leans in, kissing my shoulders. “Let’s fuck.”
Married.
Hard-on.
Babe.
“We’re not legally married. It’s just a ring.”
“Shhh. We can pretend.”
We can pretend.
