Page 21 of New Year's Faye

I kicked him with one of my slippers. "...shut up and cook my eggs."

His shoulders shook with silent laughter as he worked. I sipped my coffee, watching the way his muscles moved under his shirt, how his hands stayed steady even as the bus swayed beneath us.

"So," he said after a moment. "Should we talk about it?"

I breathed out a sigh. "The wedding or the aftermath?"

"Both?" He slid a perfect omelette onto a plate, adding a touch of salt and cracked pepper. He handed it to me then leaned one hip against the counter as he crossed his arms, looking far too comfortable. “For two people who supposedly got married, we haven’t really talked about the actual event. Only what came after.”

“Well, it wasn’t exactlyplanned,” I replied, breaking off a piece of the omelette with my fork. “One minute, I was dancing. The next, I’m standing at an altar holding your hand while some Urma the Unicorn impersonator is trying not to laugh.”

He chuckled, turning back to the bench as the toaster popped with his toast. “I think it was your idea.”

I blinked. “Are you serious?”

He pulled his phone from his pocket, tossing it to me. “Look.”

Sure enough, there I was on his lock screen, crouched in the snow as I proposed to him.

“Tequila and I do not mix,” I muttered, shaking my head. “I must have lost my goddamned mind.”

We were quiet for a minute as I watched him bustle about the kitchen.

“You didn’t have to go through with it, you know.” I looked up at him, meeting his gaze. “So why did you?”

He paused as he buttered his toast, his expression thoughtful. “Honestly? I don’t know. Maybe I just didn’t want to see you walk away.”

The words hung between us, warm and unexpected. I wasn’t ready to unpack that, wasn’t ready to examine exactly what that meant.

He turned back to his toast, resuming spreading the butter. “Or maybe I just wanted the right to steal your clothes as well.” He looked pointedly at his hoodie. “Do you think that red dress would match my colouring?”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

“You love it,” he murmured, picking up his plate as he moved back to lean against the counter.

We ate side by side in silence, watching each other with gazes that lingered, as if we’d somehow crossed into new territory without realizing it.

"I have an idea." He said after swallowing. "Twenty questions. Anything we want to know about the wedding night or each other. Complete honesty."

"That sounds..."

"Terrifying?"

"I was going to say efficient." I forked another piece of egg. "You go first."

He grinned. "I'll start easy. What's my coffee order?"

"Well, firstly, you don’t drink coffee. You’re a black tea, two sugars before noon, or a black tea with honey after shows because your throat gets scratchy. Though you also secretly love those caramel milkshake monstrosities Justice gets but won't admit it because you think it ruins your image."

His eyebrows rose. "I’m unsurprised but still impressed. And I only like those caramel things cause of the cream. The actual drink is trash."

I stabbed my fork in his direction. "My turn. What do you remember about the wedding?"

"Snippets. The unicorn guy. You laughing at his jokes. Dancing to 'Brown Eyed Girl' in the parking lot." His smile turned thoughtful. "You looked happy."

"I was drunk."

"Yeah, we both were." Something flickered in his expression. "But it was nice, seeing you let go for once."

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