Page 160 of Hot Shot

Since then, all we’ve done is party.

Well,they’vebeen partying. I’ve been sipping the same glass of champagne all night. And no, not because I’m pregnant—I just want to remember this, every single minute of it. I think Wilder’s had the same glass of scotch all night too.

And no, he’s not pregnant either.

We decided to keep both wedding rings together to make the set—the simple band with the tiniest chip of a diamond twinkling in it, and a rock the size of Pluto with facets so big, I can practically see my reflection in them.

We sway to the music, alone on the dance floor for our first dance, surrounded by everyone we love. But we might as well be alone in the world, mesmerized eyes full of love and lips touched with secret smiles.

He spins me around, and I hang onto him, laughing. When he slows us, I’m dizzy with love.

The speakers are playing our cheesy Snow Patrol song.

I shake my head at him.

“What?” he asks. Will either of us ever stop smiling?

I have a feeling the answer is no.

“I just can’t believe that our song is ‘Chasing Cars.’”

“Hey, I kinda like it.”

“I do too,” I admit. “It was so serious at the time. Like you and me dancing to this song in the eighth grade almost felt like this does, right now.”

“Then we definitely chose the right song.”

We keep on smiling at each other. Who needs cheek filler? Just get married. You’ll smile so much, it’s like CrossFit for your face.

“Gosh, I love you, Mr. Davenport.”

“Good. Because I love you, Mrs. Davenport.”

There is an almost comical slick of heat between my legs at the sound of my new title from his mouth. My face must give it away, because he chuckles.

“How long have you been thinking about saying that?” I ask, stroking the back of his neck.

“Today? Since I woke up. Ever? Since the song became The Song.”

“Did you doodle my name in your composition book?”

“Don’t tell Remy.”

I snicker. “No promises.”

“Wanna know a secret?”

“Uh, always.”

“When Remy found out I asked you to the dance, he punched me in the gut. But he didn’t know what he was doing and had his thumb inside his fist. He nearly broke it. That’s why he was in a splint.”

Laughter spills out of me.

“Yup. He didn’t say no to us going out, though.”

One of my brows arches. “Would you have stayed away if he did?”

“Not a chance.”

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