Page 63 of First Comes Marriage

What if it hadn’t become more for him?

“Did you really drive all the way here to be a jerk?” Sabrina asked.

Holly rolled her eyes and dug into her Louis Vuitton handbag. Her hand reappeared clutching a familiar envelope, one Sabrina had very purposely left on the drink cart in her mother’s parlor. Holly held it out to Sabrina. “You left this at Mom’s.”

Sabrina snatched the envelope from her sister. “You could have mailed it.”

“Nice to see you, too, little sister. Let’s not make a habit of it.” With that, Holly walked away from them, sliding into the driver’s seat of a sleek, black car. At the last moment, Holly turned and shot a pointed look at the envelope in Sabrina’s hand. “For once in your life, do as you’re told.”

Sabrina and Sebastian watched until her tail lights disappeared from view. Only then did Sabrina feel like she could actually take a deep breath as she shoved the envelope into her purse. She’d shred it later.

Still, something in the air had shifted.

“Sebastian?” she asked, taking his hand in hers again.

He stared at their joined hands for a long minute, thatmuscle in his jaw continuing to tick. “Is she right?”

“About what?”

“That you would have done this with anyone if it meant pissing off your sister. If you’d found someone else in Vegas from Holly’s past, would you have married them instead?” His eyes flicked to hers, guarded and icy in a way that made her feel cold all over.

“I didn’t mean to marry anyone,” she said softly.

“But you did. You marriedme.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say here. We both got drunk that night. We both decided to get married. I didn’t do that on my own.” His eyes were back on their interlocked hands again, as though he were seeing them for the first time. “What exactly are you accusing me of?” she asked, doing her best to hide the tremble in her voice.

Finally, he met her gaze, his brow furrowed. He blinked and ran his free hand over his jaw. “Nothing. Forget it.”

“Sebastian—”

“It’s late. Let’s go home.” He released her hand and rounded the car to the driver’s side.

Sabrina felt the absence of his touch like a vibration in her bloodstream, like the warning shot over the bow of a ship.

“Are we okay?” she asked.

He flashed her one of his charming smiles that didn’t reach his eyes and she thought she might be sick. “Yeah. We’re fine.”

Oh, what she would have given to believe him.

Chapter twenty-three

Baz tossed his keys into the bowl on the kitchen counter and sifted through the overcrowded kitchen cabinet until he found his best bottle of Scotch. Since when did he have four different kinds of breakfast cereal and at least as many packages of cookies in his cabinets?Since Sabrina.The thought only stoked his frustration as he pulled the mostly empty bottle from the back of the cabinets and poured himself a drink. Behind him, he heard the soft snick of the front door as Sabrina entered the apartment, and there was that irrational anger he’d first felt in the carnival parking lot.

Anger that she was in his space—in his life—for who knew how long, but certainly not forever. Not for keeps.

That he was another temporary safe harbor for her, good ol’ punching bag Baz who’d always be there to take one more punch, no matter how bloodied and bruised it left him. Dependable, disposable Baz. That’s who he was to her, just like he’d been for her sister once upon a time.

That he even gave a fuck about any of it.

This was supposed to be about sex, and only until Christmas. So why did that thought make him angrier than any that had come before it?

Despite having his back to her as he nursed his Scotch, hisfree hand braced on the kitchen counter, he was all too aware of her moving through the apartment. Kicking off her shoes by the front door, sliding into a seat at the kitchen island. Watching him. Waiting.

“Sebastian—”

“Not now.”

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