Fern was pulled away by her mother and introduced to a range of men and women I’d rather not talk to. I stayed with my father, discussing the political climate in the UK with his old friend while downing bourbon after bourbon.
Henry found me before I could get another refill. “You married that girl. The one who came into my room.”
Fern, now standing in a small group of ladies nearby, glanced over and offered a tight smile.
“I know,” I said, looking away.
“I wonder if she heard from her dad.”
I crunched down on an ice cube too hard and coughed. “What?”
“She told me about him.”
“She did?” I frowned, thinking back to when Henry had informed me of the red-haired girl coming to see him that night. “You never told me she stayed.”
He looked at me as though he couldn’t understand why that would matter. “Well, she did. She read me stories after we talked. Guess you got her big love.”
I swallowed and tried to digest this new, rather unpleasant knowledge. “Big love?”
Henry shrugged. “It’s a secret.”
I looked over at Red, who was wearing a polite smile as Henrietta Gabe talked her ear off. “Right.” I clapped Henry on the shoulder, then told him to find Silas, who was seated in the corner of the room with a bottle of scotch hanging between his knees.
Then I went to steal my bride. “If you’ll excuse us, ladies, I’m already missing my wife.”
They clucked and cooed, Fern waving a little as I tugged her to the dance floor for our first dance.
The room quieted, the lights dimming, and with a tremble in her hands, Fern looped them behind my neck. “You say the sweetest lies.”
I hummed, enjoying the way her stomach pressed into my cock, warm and soft and legally mine. Lowering my head, I pulled her closer until we were almost hugging while slowly rocking from side to side.
My nose skimmed her hairline, strawberries mingling with hairspray, and I clutched her lower back. “Henrietta would’ve eaten you alive.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t leave me there then,” she murmured.
“Red, I’m the only one allowed to taste your tears.”
She laughed, then sighed, leaning into me as though she was trying to relax. “Who is she?”
“Henrietta?”
She nodded.
“She’s the wife of London’s alpha, Benjamin Gabe.”
The name alone evoked a small shiver. I didn’t bother placating her. He was as filthy and crooked as they came, and she’d do well to listen to her instincts. “Your father was in the London chapter.”
“Second Tier. Benjamin had him transferred without warning and consent, knowing he was a threat to his throne.”
Fern snorted, lifting her head from my shoulder. “I need an encyclopedia. A spreadsheet, even.” I chuckled at that, then sobered when she blurted, “And I’ll be needing my diary back, husband.”
Pushing her out, I twirled her, and she came back to me wide-eyed before scowling. “Impossible, I’m afraid.”
“I don’t want to ask, but I know you’ll make me.” Her fingers curved into the fabric of my tux. “Why?”
I licked my lips, then grinned. “All that remains are ashes, and even those are probably long gone by now.”
Her intake of breath was violent enough to rise and drop those fantastic tits, and to be heard over the music. “Fitting,” she said, relaxing against me once more. “Considering it’s rather similar to the disappearance of my feelings for you.”
I felt my eye twitch, and my mouth hardened.
She kissed it until it softened, then fled when the song ended.
Fern
Our wedding night was spent alone.
We came home in the same car and then went our separate ways as soon as the front door slammed closed behind us.
My dress was a thing of art, so even though I’d planned to throw it out the window of the second story onto the hood of Jude’s Range Rover, I decided that would be a waste.
I’d keep it as a reminder that one day, I would have a real wedding in a white dress.
That was why I’d worn black. Jude didn’t get to take that from me, too.
Busy with school and an overdue paper early in the week after, I hadn’t seen him since.
“You don’t need to explain,” my aunt Ray said to me when I’d walked into her café the following Wednesday to finish said paper.
She brought me cup after cup of coffee, replacing it with water and a sandwich when the sun began to prepare for sleep.
Sliding into the booth opposite me, Ray eyed my computer.
I hit save and closed it, dragging the food closer with a growling stomach. “Thank you.”
“Nice rocks.” Laughter filled her eyes as she nodded to my hand, but it was soon replaced with concern. “You doing okay?”
“Fine,” I lied, chewing.
She hummed. “Cory came in just yesterday, looking about as exhausted as you.”
“She’s not talking to me,” I said, something pinching inside my chest. “We had a fight.” It wasn’t so much a fight but rather her telling me we were breaking up over the phone when she’d finally picked up days after I’d left her reeling on campus.
Ray didn’t need to ask many questions. It became increasingly apparent that she knew more than she should, but not enough to be a concern to my mother and her peers. “Well,” she said, scooping up sugar granules into her hand and dusting them into my empty mug. “If she’s your friend, and I wholeheartedly believe that she is, she will eventually come around.”
“I don’t know about that.” And I couldn’t explain why.
Her blue eyes snatched mine, her mouth set. “Patience, Ferny. Do not let your heart grow so disenchanted that you lose the ability to empathize, you hear?”
I sighed. “Yeah, I hear you.”
My phone rang, and my aunt took away my mug and saucer while I dug it out of my bag.
Jude. I ignored it and finished half my sandwich before it rang again.
And then again.
“Gah,” I said through bread and chicken. “What do you want?”
His deep baritone cut the annoyance away and replaced it with trepidation. “Get home and get ready.”
“For what?” I asked, crumbs flying from my mouth.
I picked them up with the pad of my finger as he said, “Your first glimpse of true debauchery awaits. We leave in half an hour.” The line went dead.
Shit. It would take me fifteen minutes to drive home.
Gathering my things, I scrambled out of the booth, waving the other half of my dinner in the air in goodbye.
My aunt watched on, her head tilting as she wiped her hands on a towel. “Drive safe!”
Jude was already dressed in yet another fitted tuxedo, this one a dark green, almost black, when I rushed from the car and darted inside.
He followed me upstairs. “You weren’t going to answer my call. What were you doing?”
After dropping my computer, phone, and purse onto my dresser, I flung open the doors to my small walk-in. “I have a paper due tomorrow.”
“So…?”
“So,” I said, plucking a dress off the hanger. “I was at Ray’s while she caffeinated me, and I finished it.”