Page 30 of Malicious Wedding

It almost humanizes him. I canalmostpicture a little, innocent Carson having fun with his brothers, playing games, hiding in random closets, laughing and going on rich boy adventures.

But then I remember my father’s dead, my uncles are dead, and my brother’s on life support.

My poor brother. My vibrant, loud, exuberant brother, reduced to beeping hospital machines.

We climb a flight of stairs, follow a couple more halls, then push through a pair of French doors, only to end up in another hallway—this one sunny, lined with windows and more doors. Carson stops walking and gestures.

“This is you,” he says.

My eyebrows raise. “Sorry, what now? You mean, like, one of these rooms is for me?”

He shakes his head. “This is your wing. I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d give you an entire section of the house.”

I laugh once sharply. “You’re joking, right? I mean, can you just do that?”

“This wing is for guests. And yes, I can.” He starts walking away. “There are four bedrooms. I’ll be staying in the first one. You may pick from the remaining three.”

“Wait, hold on—you’re staying in this wing? We didn’t discuss that.”

“Of course I am,” he says, waving me off. “Now, there is a sitting room, a games room—”

“No, hold on, back to that other thing about you staying here.” I stop walking, glaring at him. “You’re not staying here.”

“Yes, I am.” He turns to face me, looking amused. “You think I’m going to let my wife stay all alone?”

“I’m not your wife.” I grind my teeth. “Don’t say that again.”

“You’re not yet, but you will be.” He leans against the wall, arms crossed. “Why are you fighting this so hard?”

“Because?” I throw my hands up. “This is insane, that’s why. I haven’t seen you in ten years, then you come storming back into my life in a cloud of blood and threats, and I’m supposed to just, like, shove your ring on my finger and be happy about it? Hell fucking no.”

“That would be nice.”

“No, it wouldn’t, because then I’d be certifiably insane. Like you definitely are.”

He shrugs as if his mental health is of no concern. “I also can’t leave you to my family. I need to be here in case one of them decides to come bother you.”

“Yeah, great, that’s better. You need to protect me from your own family.” When he doesn’t react to that patently absurd statement, I step toward him, looking hard. “Carson, I agreed to come here because, to be totally honest, I’m freaked the heck out. Iain’s dying, my dad’s gone, my uncles are gone, and I just—” I try to still my racing heart but I’m having trouble. “I don’t want to lose anything else.”

He nods slowly. “I understand that.”

“You said you could save Smoke. I’m thinking—” I look away. Could I really do this? Could I actually give myself to this man all to save some bar?

But it’s not just a bar. It’s not just a building. It’s the people—it’s Bernie, Keely, Jamila and Fulco, it’s all the regulars and all the future regulars. It’s the beating heart of my entire world, the place I’ve poured my soul into.

Could I really give myself for that?

Yes. I’ve done it once. When my grandfather handed me the keys, Bottle of Smoke became my entire existence.

Marrying Carson to save it wouldn’t be all that much different.

At least that’s how I’m trying to rationalize it.

Doesn’t make any sense, but I keep trying to make some argument that doesn’t involve my legs wrapped around his face.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he says, taking a step closer.

Deep breath. Let it out. “IfI married you, and that’s a big if—”

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