Page 70 of From Best Friend to Bride
“Be that as it may,” he replied, trying not to laugh. “You’re the countess now, Deli. It’s unbecoming.”
I sighed. “All right, all right. Fine. What about snookums?”
He shot me a dark look.
“Babykins?”
He clicked his tongue. “Not after the hell you caused in our teenage years, no.”
Oh, please. It was hardly my fault it’d caught on and everyone knew him as ‘babykins’ for our final two years of school.
“Sweet little baby love?”
“Why don’t we just stick with my name for now,” he said flatly. “In fact, that might be the nicest option you can come up with.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying, Frederick. Honestly. Do keep up.”
15
DELILAH
Istood on one side of the bed, staring at the item in the middle of the covers. Fred, on the opposite side, was doing the same thing.
Why, you ask?
Well, that would be the gift left for us from none other than our friends.
His friends, actually.
I was no longer claiming them as mine.
Real friends wouldn’t leave you a bucket full of sex toys on your wedding night.
No. That was wrong. Real friends absolutely would—and should, if you ask me—providing your marriage is legitimate, out of love, and not something you accidentally talked yourselves into.
This… bucket… consisting of condoms, lube, fluffy handcuffs, and more sex toys than one woman could feasibly use at the same time, was not something real friends left behind on the night of your fake marriage.
That was before I even considered the fucking rose petals scattered all over the bed.
“‘To Fred and Deli,’” I read in a flat voice, staring at the little card they’d also left. “‘Here’s to a happy marriage.’”
Fred blinked. “I have no idea what to say about this.”
“‘The condoms are for you both, in case you decide to celebrate this farce properly,’” I continued, pinching the edge of the card. “‘The good stuff is for Deli if Fred decides he’s a born-again virgin. Enjoy. Love, everyone.’”
Oh.
Well, that changed things.
I put the card down on the bed and peeked over into the bucket.
“What are youdoing?”
I glanced over at him. “They said the good stuff was for me. Just because we’re keeping this marriage platonic doesn’t mean I don’t have needs, you know.”
He opened his mouth to reply, then froze. He quickly closed his eyes and turned away, heaving out a great, exhausted sigh. “Jesus Christ.”
“He won’t help you. He’s busy.” I poked through the bucket until I pulled out one of those magic clit-sucking machines. “Score!”
