Page 98 of Winning Bid

And that’s another thing that’s changed. At least, according to Anderson. I still don’t know if I believe his father likes me now, but, in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter.

Today, I am marrying Anderson West, and there is not a damn thing anyone can do to stop me.

48

ANDERSON

I’ve always had an appreciation for a black-on-black suit, but today, even that does not feel formal enough for our casual ceremony. In fact, nothing feels good enough for marrying June. God knows I’m not.

I still cannot believe she wants to marry me. It’s like a dream. Hopefully, nothing turns it into a nightmare.

Without her at my side last night, that was all I had. One after another. Embarrassingly, I woke up cuddled on her pillow after I’d pulled it next to me as a poor imitation of her. It was the first thing I fixed this morning. Didn’t want her coming home thinking I’d had my way with her pillow in her stead.

I made coffee, and as I stirred the dark liquid, I fell back into the memory of those nightmares. My father, showing up at the courthouse to stop us from getting married, so I could marry the daughter of one of his associates instead. Some enemy of his, spraying June’s white dress red with bullets as she said, “I do.” Or, my favorite one—the judge telling us he wouldn’t marry us as a favor to my father because he revoked his approval of June.

No need for a Freudian interpretation of my dreams. I feared my father ruining my future happiness with June, one way or another. Probably because he had tried so often to do precisely that.

In the light of day, I knew those things were highly unlikely to happen. But that didn’t do much to shake the nightmares from replaying in my mind.

So, I hit the gym to work out my nervous energy. Since the apartment building has a decent one, I don’t have to travel far to sweat it out. Cranking up the tunes to the grungiest punk music always helped clear my mind when I lifted or ran on the treadmill, so that is the plan. But after two hours of brutalizing my body, I remember I have wedding night duties to perform. I slow the treadmill to a stop and wipe everything down before I leave.

The blonde who flirts with me walks in. I only notice because, despite my apartment building being full, the gym is empty in the middle of a Thursday. She saunters my way, smiling.

Crap.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, Anderson.”

“Been busy.”

“Too busy to spot me?”

The last time she asked for a spot, she made sure to arch her back unnecessarily as she benched just to flash me more cleavage. I feel bad for the girl. She is very pretty—like a Swedish bikini model. Surely, there are other guys out there for her.

I smile apologetically. “Yeah, sorry. If I don’t get cleaned up, I’ll be late to my own wedding, and that’s no way to start a marriage. Excuse me.”

Her bright blue eyes widen. “You’re getting married?”

“This afternoon.”

“Oh my god!” She giggles and clutches onto me for a hug. Apparently, she doesn’t notice me not hugging her back. “Congratulations!”

“Erm, thanks.”

She leans back, looking up at me. “My wife and I would love to have you and the missus over for supper sometime.”

My brain reset. “Your wife?”

“Yeah. Viv is always on me about how I don’t invite people over.” She shrugs awkwardly. “But it’s hard to make friends as an adult. You know what I mean?”

“I thought … I would have sworn you hit on me. You gave me your number, and?—"

She grins bashfully. “Okay, well yeah, I did. At first. But then Viv and I got back together. All’s well that ends well, right? We got married two months ago. Never been happier. You’ll love married life.”

I chuckle, unsure what to say to all of that. “Can’t wait?—"

“Oh my goodness, I’m just delaying you. Go get married. Don’t let me keep you.”

I slowly nod, still wrapping my head around all of that, as I walk into our place. Do I even know the blonde’s name? I should learn it. She was distracting enough that I forgot my nightmares for a little while. I owe her for that alone.

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