Page 28 of Tormenting Me

“Yes,” I whisper into his lips, “it will forever be yes. I’m Irish Wes. I know those vows very well.”

I bring our bound hands to my lips, pressing mine to the top of his. “You are blood of my blood, bone of my bone. I give you my body, that we may be one. I give you my spirit until our life is done.”

“I thought Murphy was of English origin. Some stalker, I am.” He snorts, and has a look of embarrassment about him. “I couldn’t even get your family’s origins correct. Hope you don’t mind a Scottish last name. It’s going to be Larimore for the rest of your life.” Wes unties our hands and lifts me back onto the bed, pushing the hair from my face.

“It’s perfect. So you gonna to whisk me away to the Scottish countryside and marry me in a field?” I joke, kissing the tip of his nose.

“Would you like to?” His voice carrying a serious tone. “I want to travel around the world with you Layne,” his lips tenderly kiss my ear, “and fuck you in every single city we go to.” Wes clears his throat and pulls back. “First, we need to deal with your father. Then we can talk about traveling. We can get married tomorrow. Better text Atlas and tell him you need him to be at the courthouse tomorrow.”

With a delicate touch, Wes slips the ring on my finger, and I admire the vibrant green of the beautiful emerald. He understands that I’m not the conventional type of girl who likes diamonds. Wes gets up and cleans the mess from the takeout as I reach for my phone to text Atlas.

What to say, so that he won’t think I am insane?

Layne: Okay, don’t freak out. I need to ask you to do something for me tomorrow. No judgment.

Atlas: …

Atlas: I am the king of no judgment, bitch. So hit me with it. I’m still mad that you didn’t tell me about your mystery man and that you ditched me at the show. He is HOT, by the way!

I smirk and text back.

Layne: We’re getting married tomorrow. Would you be willing to come to the courthouse as a my man of honor? Then we can party afterward?

Atlas: Only if I get to pick your dress.

Layne: So is that a yes?

Atlas: Do I get to pick your dress?

“Atlas wants to pick my dress,” I shout to Wes, who’s cleaning up the dishes across the loft in the kitchen.

He comes into view and shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t care what you wear, baby. That’s all up to you.” I bite my lip and respond.

Layne: Okay, you can pick the dress.

Atlas: What time do I need to be there?

“What time should he be there?” Wes walks back over to the bed, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

“Tell him to be there by three-thirty. I have an in with the judge who will do all the paperwork, so he’ll squeeze us in.” He tosses the towel on the bed and bends down, kissing my neck. “Hurry, baby. I want my dessert.”

Layne: Be there by 3:30. Gotta go, love you!!

Chapter twenty

Wes

Istand on the balcony of the loft, the distant cries of seagulls and the soothing sound of crashing waves of the bay reach my ears. Layne lies in our bed, still asleep. Our bed. This place will be the home we share, making memories and building a family, if she wants that. It is five in the morning and the bay is already busy. I shudder as the cool breeze sweeps past me, I stand out here in nothing but a shirt and my boxers briefs. The sound of the door opening catches my attention. Layne’s bare feet patter across the wood floor. I bring a cigarette to my lips and click the lighter, the orange glow illuminating my face.

“Good morning, Ma Petite Mort,“ I turn to the side, kissing her shoulder, “Did you sleep okay?” My eyes linger as I catch sight of her messy braids and sleepy eyes, she wears one of my shirts and nothing else.

Adorable.

“Yes, I did.” She scoots closer to me. My arm wraps around her waist and pulls her into my side. She smells like home, sweet jasmine and me. Layne has consumed my life for almost 4 months, and now she is here. She is mine.

Today is the day I give her my last name. I sent my uncle a text after Layne fell asleep last night confirming that everything will be ready. I was able to get my parents a red-eye flight, letting them know that we’re getting married. They didn’t even hesitate. I don’t want to waste time dating when I know that she’s the only woman for me. My uncle will officiate our union. “Are you ready for today?”

My question makes her brow furrow. Her hand cups my cheek, and she stands on her tiptoes to kiss my nose. “Why, Mr. Larimore, are you asking if I am getting cold feet?” Layne’s adorable giggle fills the air. I finish my cigarette and flick the butt over the railing.

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