Page 72 of Fireworks & Forehead Kisses

I was going to be debt-free. The business and assets that Stella had spent a lifetime supporting, sacrificing, and working to build were going to be in safe hands. I was going to be able to start my program and help kids, although that point wasn’t contingent on me walking down the aisle.

It was ten weeks of my life. People married for love, and they still got divorced. At least I was going into this with my eyes wide open. Declan didn’t love me. I definitely didn’t love him.

So why do I get all giddy and tingly every time I think about him? I thought.

I ignored it. I wasn’t giddy over him. This was just a very unique situation, and my body was responding accordingly. Obviously, the reason I was feeling this way was because of the extraordinary circumstances. I mean, come on, not only was I getting married today, but in the plot twists of all plot twists, in a very Scooby Doo-esque reveal, I’d found out that my nemesis for the past six months was actually Big—the man I’d been lusting over and obsessing about for the same amount of time. There was a lot for my brain and body to process.

“So you’re going to be married for ten weeks?” Skylar asked for the fifth time as she sat in the armchair with her feet up.

“Yes. After the new year, we will get the wedding annulled.”

Skylar’s lips pursed the way they always did when she did not approve of my life choices. Thankfully, I hadn’t seen that expression very often. This was only the third time. The first was when she’d caught me smoking weed with Jenny when I was thirteen. The second was when I lied to her about going on a school trip when I actually traveled by bus and went to the Coachella festival in California when I was fifteen. And this was number three.

“I know that this isn’t the fairytale love that you and Hank have, but people get married for all sorts of reasons. Green cards. Health insurance. Security. Loneliness. He needs to save his company; I want to be debt-free. It’s a win/win.”

“But do you have to, you know… What about sex?”

I doubted she’d be asking that once she saw him. Hank hadn’t let her come downstairs while all the preparations were happening. She’d been sequestered to her room since she’d be up for the ceremony, so she still hadn’t met my betrothed.

I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t thought about being with him again. Part of mehopedthat would be one of the perks. But another part of me thought it would be best to keep the physical part of things separate. I feared if we didn’t, things would become more complicated than my favorite Meryl Streep, Alec Baldwin, and Steve Martin rom-com of the same name.

The kiss on my forehead last night had feltverygood. But that had been the only physical contact we’d had. A chaste kiss on the forehead, and then he’d left. This morning, when we met at the county clerk in Savannah to get our wedding license, it was very transactional. Polite. Congenial. Declan hadn’t addressed marital relations in the terms he’d proposed. But he’d made a few statements that hinted at the topic.

“When we’re married, you’re mine.”

That really didn’t hint at the sex topic, but damn, it was hot. I’d nearly come right there on the spot. It hadn’t been the words he’d said as much as the look in his eyes. He looked like he wanted to throw me over his shoulder, carry me back to his cave, and do veryprimalthings to me.

“Romance can be negotiated.”

I mean, were we talking candlelight dinners? Slow dances? Long walks on the beach?

“We’re clearly compatible in some aspects of marriage.”

Did that mean we were going to consummate our marriage? Did he want to consummate our marriage? Did I want to consummate our marriage?

Who was I kidding? Of course, I wanted to. The real question was, would it be a good idea? The one night we’d spent together, I’d woken up in his arms, weepy and overcome with emotion. Six months later, I still hadn’t gotten over the man. Since then, all of the art that had flowed out of me had been about him. Over a dozen pieces from one night inspired by a single muse of misery.

That might be great for my creativity, but it had been torture for my soul. The longing. The desire. The pining. I discovered I did not enjoy being a tortured artist. It was not for me.

It may not even be up to me, though. Declan was going to be gone for ninety percent of our marriage, and we weren’t going to live in the same home even when he was home. We were going to two events together. His Christmas party and Daphne’s wedding. After that, we were done.

“We agreed we aren’t going to see other people,” I told Skylar. “We haven’t talked about whether or not there will be any hanky-panky. But we’ve already had sex, so?—”

“Oh, right. I keep forgetting he’s Big.” She shook her head as she looked down and rubbed her belly. “I have pregnancy brain. And, in fairness, so much has happened in the past twenty-four hours.”

“Knock, knock!”

Skylar and I both looked up and saw Nadia standing in the doorway.

“Hey,” I smiled.

Skylar pushed herself out of the armchair and exhaled. “I’m hungry. Hank can’t keep me locked up here forever. I’m gonna go check on Luna and see how close we are to getting started.”

I nodded as my sister left the bedroom.

Once she was gone, Nadia came in. “First of all, you look absolutely gorgeous! Your booty is bootying!”

“Thanks!”

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