Page 78 of Desperate Actions

Because everyone is looking at me now.

Staring.

Waiting.

And I swear, I feel like I’m stuck in that dream.

You know the one.

Where you go outside and do all the normal things—walking, talking, living life—only to suddenly realize halfway through that you forgot to put on pants.

Yeah.

That dream.

I clear my throat, stalling for time, brain scrambling for a lie that won’t immediately fall apart.

Because what am I supposed to say?

That Sammy practically dragged me to a chapel so he could punch my V card?

That he was so hellbent on making me his wife before taking me to bed, he got us legally fucking bound?

That we spent all night christening our marriage in ways that are probably illegal in several states?

No.

Definitely no.

So instead, I do the only thing that makes sense.

I laugh awkwardly.

And pray to God Sammy figures out how to answer before I die of secondhand embarrassment.

“Talk can wait, Lupina,” Andres says to his wife.

His tone is calm but firm, as if he can already feel the mounting tension thickening the air.

“How about we let these two get settled and have them over for dinner tomorrow night?”

He looks at my parents now, expression unreadable.

“Angel, Sisi, you too, of course.”

“Oh! That sounds great!” Mom exclaims, already delighting in the idea.

Ellie squeals.

She is so happy and excited, she actually squeals, and I grin. I can’t help it. Sammy’s mom is awesome.

But I still feel nervous.

Both moms are grinning and laughing like this is some big romantic fairytale and not a complicated, overwhelming, potentially very short-lived marriage that I am actively trying to figure out.

Because that’s the problem, isn’t it?

I don’t know what Sammy wants.

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