Page 48 of Malicious Wedding

“Ten years.”

“Were you close back then?”

“We exchanged maybe ten sentences.”

“Exactly.” Bernie sighs, a deep and emotional sound. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m worried about me too, but I’ll survive. This could be a good thing, right? People make arranged marriages work all the time.”

Even I can hear the desperation in my tone.

“Would you call this an arranged marriage or more like some casual blackmail?” she asks.

“A little of this, a little of that.”

Bernie laughs again, but it’s hollow. “I’m on your side, no matter what you choose to do, but be careful. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Thanks. You know that means a lot.”

“Now, okay, you’re married to a rich guy. When do I get to see the castle?”

“He lives in a townhouse in Beacon Hill.”

She whistles. “Fancy. Although a castle would be cooler.”

“It’sreallynice. I’ll have you over soon, but I’ve got to call everyone else first to make sure they’re okay. I’m tempted to get a whole team of therapists on retainer.”

“You can do that now, can’t you?” She sounds thoughtful. “I’m guessing there’s a big raise in my future?”

“An obscene raise. I love you, Bern.”

“All right, all right. I love you too. Text me, okay? Just so I know you’re safe.”

I cover my face with my hands. Safe from my own husband. “Talk to you later.”

I hang up and sit with the silence. It wasn’t easy admitting to her that I married Carson, but it’s like the Band-Aid’s been ripped off.

Of everyone at Smoke, Bernie’s the one I worried about the most. Now it’s done. I can move on.

Keely screams when I tell her. Her high-pitched wail is the sound of a woman’s soul leaving her body. “I wanted him for myself,” she says, truly disappointed. Her devastation is real. Hilarious, but real. I can’t help laughing. “You lucky, lucky bitch,” she complains.

“Thanks, Keels. Just be careful, okay? And listen to the big scary Irish guy that’s following you around.”

“My own personal bodyguard. Unfortunately, he looks like a thumb.”

“It’s better that way.”

“Sigh. I’d rather a big, swoony millionaire like you have, but I guess Mr. Irish Thumb will do.”

Jamila takes the wedding news better. “Gotta say, I’m not really a marriage kind of gal, but this sounds like the best deal you could hope for, right? A guy with lots of money and resources.”

Typical Jamila, always practical.

“Jams, he’s a criminal.”

Short pause. “Aren’t we all?”

“No, Jams. We’re not.”

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