Page 38 of Dirty Ink

So rude.

But understandable. Because…

“What the actual fuck, Rian?” I said. “Why would anyone have known? I didn’t fucking know.”

He pointed a finger at me. “Wait, you didn’t know either?”

I gripped the corners of my drafting desk till I was certain the wood was going to splinter. Aurnia sank onto the couch, head swivelling between Rian and me. She just needed popcorn. Conor joined her. It was quite the accomplishment for my shite to prove to be more complicated than theirs. Yay fucking me.

“I learned yesterday,” I said slowly, eyes narrowed at Rian. “When the fuck did you learn of my nuptials, my dear, dear friend?”

The little bell above the front door rang. All four of us shouted at the poor sap who stuck his eager head in the door, “Not now!”

The sheepish head disappeared. The door closed. The attention returned to Rian. He shrugged, hands dug into his pockets.

“I don’t know,” he said, “I guess I learned about it when you put that candy ring on her finger in Vegas.”

“Vegas?!” Conor shouted.

“Candy ring?!” Aurnia shouted.

“You got married in Vegas?!”

“You didn’t even get her a proper ring?!”

I dismissed Conor and Aurnia with a wave of my hand and focused on Rian.

“Are you telling me that you were there?” I said to him.

He had the nerve to look confused. Bastard.

“Mate, you were there, too,” he said.

“Goddammit!” I threw my hands into the air. “Am I the only feckin’ one who doesn’t remember this bleedin’ wedding?”

“Rachel remembers?” Rian asked.

“You remember her name?” I bellowed.

Rian shrugged. The bastard. Have I said already he was a bastard? Have I said that yet?

“I was the witness and I was sober,” he explained. “Somebody had to be. You two were plastered. Absolutely plastered. It was a beautiful ceremony though. Touching. I was Rachel’s flower girl, too, by the way. She said I was the best flower girl she’d ever seen. Really, very touching all around.”

I tugged at my hair.

“Rian, why didn’t you tell me?”

He frowned.

“Tell you that you were married? I kind of thought you knew…”

All this time. All this time and Rian knew. Why, oh fucking why couldn’t Conor have been my sober witness? He wasn’t exactly a talker by any stretch of the imagination, but surely he would have brought it up after a glass or two of whiskey sometime over the years?

My head hung heavy between my shoulder blades. Through gritted teeth, I said, “Why didn’t you say anything? When I came back without this wife you knew all about? Why didn’t you say fucking anything?”

“Because you didn’t say anything. I thought…well, I thought it ended. I mean, why else wouldn’t you talk about your wife?”

That was fuckin’ it. I was going to take Rian’s head off.

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