Page 43 of Voracious

“Oh my God!” she rudely yells, and both the dogs’ heads snap up as my heart restarts. “This is myfavouritesong!”

“Don’t,” I warn her as she gets to her knees, readying herself.

“Ready,doggos? Sing with me!”

The first note of “From Now On” she screams has me contemplating ending things with her.

Even the dogs are confused as her voice threatens to destroy every mirror, glass and ornament in the room. I’m surprised the windows aren’t smashing in.

I rub my face. “Please stop, Stacey.”

But she doesn’t.

“Fuck, my ears feel assaulted,” I say, covering them as she throws her arms out to the sides toemphasiseevery word she belts out.

To my horror, Stacey gets to her feet on the bed as the chorus hits, arms outstretched as she jumps up and down, still singing along.

Milo starts howling along with her. Hopper and I stare at each other, silently pleading for help as she shakes her hips and whips her hair at parts that don’t even slightly fit the movement.

Against the destruction of my eardrum, I chuckle. “You’re supposed to be a good dancer.”

She gasps and turns to me, hands on her hips, then jumps off the bed. “Hopper. Up!”

Hopper listens, getting to Stacey’s height as she holds his paws to her shoulders, both of them dancing around the room. She does the same with Milo, even though he’s giving me a confused look, and still she keeps singing.

She looks cute, so I keep watching her – the grin and giggle, the dazzle in her eyes, the free way she moves around and lives her life.

But her voice is shockingly bad.

She hits a deep note from HughJackman, and I’m impressed. “Right, fine. That was good.”

But then she switches to the girl and my ears feel like they might explode again.

She and the two dogs jump on the bed as the song comes to an end, and she attempts to copy the dance moves, kicking her legs out and falling on her ass next to me.

“You’re going to break the bed for the completely wrong reason,” I say, watching her with my own grin as she tries to catch her breath while the dogs bark to tell her to keep going. “You sound like a strangled cat by the way.”

Stacey dramatically gasps, her chest rising and falling, a sheen of sweat on her face. “How do you know what a strangled cat sounds like?”

I look at the invisible watch on my wrist. “I just witnessed it for the last five minutes and forty-nine seconds. Seriously, why the fuck was it on for so long?”

She turns and places her palms on my chest then rests her chin on them, forest-green eyes looking right into my broken soul. “We’re getting married to that song, so the longer the better. Maybe not a walk-down-the-aisle song, but definitely one we can do a duo dance routine to. Can you dance actually?”

“After that horrendous performance, you think I’d marry you?” I smirk and glance at Milo and Hopper, who are both staring at us. “Even the dogs aretraumatised. I fear for our future children.”

“If there are ever any future children, they’ll be blessed with your looks and my personality, especially my voice, and you’ll love them for it.”

My mouth stretches wide, my eyes wrinkling at the corners as I smile. “The world would need to hide if we ever had children. They’d undeniably be heathens.”

She tuts, shaking her head, then shifts up to kiss me. “Our little heathens.”

On the drive to the airport, Stacey keeps changing the songs on the radio, so I grab her wrist and lace our fingers together. “Why are you nervous?”

“I’m not,” she replies, but I’m not in the slightest bit convinced by the shy tone she uses.

“We don’t need to go if you don’t want to. I know we’vetravelleda lot the past two months.”

“No! God, no. I want to go,” she says desperately, turning her body to face me while I pull onto a back roads. “It’s just…”

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