Page 51 of From Best Friend to Bride
Still, though, who didn’t want to cuddle in their sleep? Granted, I didn’t want tobecuddled, I wanted to be the cuddler.
I was the big spoon, damn it.
“Do you know where he is today?” I asked, turning the corner with her. “Nana has been sneaking around giggling, and I’m starting to get a little concerned.”
Aunt Vi shook her head. “Sorry, dear. I assume it has something to do with the cockamamie scheme you two have cooked up, but I told him I want no part of it.” She quickly touched my arm, meeting my gaze. “Not that I don’t want you two together, darling, but… You know.”
“Not like this.” I patted her hand. “I’m not offended by it. Believe me, I wish I had no part in it, too.”
My words must have hit the spot because she laughed quietly, releasing my arm. “I’ve been telling you for years that that mouth of yours would get you in trouble, Delilah.”
“And once again, you have been proven right,” I replied forlornly. “I’m sorry I dragged you into all this mess, Aunt Vi.”
“Psh. It’s none of my business. Like I said before, you’re both grown adults, and you’re perfectly capable of making your own stupid decisions.” She paused as we sidestepped into the road so a woman with a pram didn’t have to go around us, and she nodded with a warm smile at her. “Besides, I am but a hopeless romantic, and so I shall spend the duration of your marriage hoping you’ll both have an epiphany and fall in love.”
“Accept my condolences in advance.”
“I shall not. Failing an epiphany, perhaps one of you will befall a great accident, get amnesia, and I can convince your befuddled brain that you’re wildly in love with each other.”
“Can we save that one for the last resort?” I asked dryly. “I don’t want to tempt fate, and the thought of Fred believing he’s helplessly in love with me is a bit too much for me to bear.”
She laughed, its bright sound ringing out and drawing everyone’s attention. “Very well. Perhaps I should start goingto church again. You know, have a little chat with the big man upstairs.”
“I’m not sure if God would be pleased to see you return to His house just to ask for something like that.”
“Hmm, you’re right. Should I take an offering instead?”
“Do Christians make offerings?”
“I don’t know, but I was watching that anime Mel likes, and they made offerings to the Buddha. I wondered if perhaps we should start giving God some presents every now and then. Show our appreciation a bit more, you know?”
I stared at her for a moment. Now, I was by no means an expert in religion, and God only knew—literally—that I hadn’t stepped foot in a church to worship since I was forced into it in primary school, but I didn’t think that was how it worked.
“I’m not sure if God operates on a quid-pro-quo basis,” I said slowly. “If you want Him to listen to you, maybe just start praying a bit more regularly.”
“Do you think He hears you more if you’re in a church? Maybe I should confess my sins.”
Sins? What were the sins of the great Violet Wellington? Too many chocolates after dinner, perhaps?
The woman was the most disciplined person I knew.
“That’s the third religion you’ve referenced in the past two minutes. Instead of praying, why don’t you just take up a new hobby? Knitting. Paint-by-numbers. Crochet. Something a little less likely to insult a great deal of the world’s population.”
Aunt Vi sighed dramatically. “You’re right, darling. I don’t think I’m cut out for organised religion. But if anyone wanted to start a religion solely based around worshipping Pedro Pascal, I would be ordained in a heartbeat.”
Yes.
There wasn’t a person in this village who wasn’t simping over that man, it seemed.
Except me.
I didn’t get it. Then again, I didn’t really simp or swoon over anyone or anything, so perhaps I was the problem.
I usually was.
“Well, I’m going to head home and cross my fingers for Pedro Pascalanity to catch on,” I said, pulling my car keys from my bag.
“I think I’d vote for Pedroism,” Aunt Vi mused.
