Page 36 of From Best Friend to Bride
“Honey?”
“Next.”
“Sweetheart? Sweetie?”
“That’s what Granny calls me. No, thank you.”
I rested my head on the back of the sofa, still rubbing her foot. “You’re not making this easy for me, are you?”
“That would be in direct opposition to my life’s mission which is to pester the crap out of you.”
“Then marrying me is actually a good thing for your mission, is it not?”
“I didn’t think of it that way. Look at that, every cloud really does have a silver lining.”
I rolled my head to the side and smiled, meeting her eyes. “Why don’t I pull out the old teenage nickname?”
“Sugartits?” Her eyes bugged. “If you dare call me that, I swear—”
“You’ll rip off my balls, choke me on one, and shove the other up my arse. Yeah, yeah.” I laughed, switching my hand to her other foot. “Let’s just stick with ‘wife.’ It’s simple, not cheesy, it’s accurate, and nobody else calls you that.” I paused. “At least I hope nobody else is calling you that.”
“Not that I know of,” Deli mused. “Although I’m sure Danny would let me choke him on his own testicle if I let him call me that.”
My stomach clenched at the mention of his name. He was that guy in the pub who was trying to get her to go out with him. “Is he still bugging you?”
“I’ve not seen him since the other day. God only knows what he’s cooking up now that you told him all that crap about me.”
“He should know better than to listen to another guy when they say something about a woman,” I retorted. “If he bothers you, just call me.”
“Ooh, aren’t you the protective boyfriend?” Deli teased, her eyes sparking with laughter.
I paused, my thumbs pressing into the arch of her foot. “I suppose so. I guess we’re dating now.”
“There’s no need to sound so enthused.”
“Sorry. Let me try again.” I coughed into my fist. “I guess we’re dating now!” I exclaimed happily.
She shuddered. “Don’t ever do that again. I’m going to have nightmares.”
I laughed. “I can’t wait to see the look on your face when I ask you to marry me.”
“I was wrong,” she said dreamily, staring at the ceiling. “NowI’m going to have nightmares.”
“Who’s proposing to who?” Mum asked, letting herself into my office.
“You could knock,” I said, looking over at her.
“You should lock the door if you want someone to knock,” she replied, carrying a book over to my shelf and replacing it.
When did she borrow that?
“Well? Who’s proposing to who?”
“Fred’s proposing to me,” Deli said. “We’re getting married.”
“Oh,” Mum said. “It’s about time.”
Deli stared at me. “Seriously, not even your mum is surprised?”
