Page 227 of Repairing the Wreckage

“Griff?” Hesitation wobbles in her voice. “I want to marry you…”

My heart clenches at the but I sense coming. Is she going to ask me to give up fighting? After last night, I’m eager for another match. But not if it means losing her.

“This weekend’s a little soon…” she says.

I blow out a breath.

“I’d like to at least be able to have champagne at my own wedding.”

Relieved laughter bursts out of me. “Fair enough.” I grin, so stupidly happy. “Two years. We’ll come back and get married here? Or do you want your rose garden wedding back home?”

Her eyes widen. “You remember I wanted to get married in a rose garden? I said that when I was like ten.”

I shrug. “I don’t know. It just always stuck in my head.”

“Awww.” She sighs and nuzzles against my neck. “Vegas. Rose garden. Anywhere you want is fine with me.”

I pick up her left hand. “You need a ring, though.”

She tugs on her diamond chain. “You already gave me diamonds this week.”

“That I did.”

She still needs a ring.

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

Molly

“Would you please stop glaring at everyone?” I say to Remy in a harsh whisper. It’s awkward enough that it’s just the two of us holding down a long table set for twelve people. Remy throwing murderous looks at the two gym bros a few tables over, isn’t making it any better.

“I’m not glaring at everyone. Just those guys who keep staring at you.”

I raise my eyes, watching the front door to the restaurant for anyone in our party. “I’m sure it has more to do with being Griff’s girlfriend than any interest in me.”

“Yeah, that’s even worse.” He finally flicks his gaze down and stares at the restaurant’s menu. “I thought Black Ball Cap looked like someone in Magic’s crew.”

“Ohhh, okay.” I glance at the guy wearing the black cap, but he’s poking his fork into his eggs and talking to the man across from him. Nothing about either of them looks familiar to me. “You could’ve just said that.”

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

I reach over and rest my hand on his forearm. “Thanks for always looking out for me.”

He slowly turns his head and stares at me. “Are you okay?”

“Well, I mean you’re still a meddling, overprotective pain in my butt. But I love you.”

“Love you too, kid.”

“Griff and I made plans to get married here in two years,” I blurt.

He chokes and sputters on his coffee. “I’m sorry, what?”

I grin at him. “He wanted to do it this weekend, but I said I’d rather wait until I can have champagne at my own wedding.”

He takes several slow, deep breaths before calmly answering, “Sounds like a plan. Am I invited?”

“I hope you’ll walk me down the aisle.”

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