Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 119548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
“Well, don’t do it again,” I warned him, shooting him my best dark look. “That’s the only display of affection we’ll share, public or private.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He waved his hand. “Before you go declaring such things, you should be aware that Max and Will have a bet on us being bubbled within three months.”
“Those shitgoblins.” I sat up straight. “How much are they betting?”
“Two hundred. Four hundred that we’ll fall in love within six months.”
I wrinkled up my face. “I know they have too much money, but that’s just wasteful.”
“Yeah, but I’ve got a grand resting on us getting the divorce as planned.”
Of course, he had.
“What about me? Where’s my share?”
Fred’s lips tugged up. “When we win and get divorced, I’ll give you the grand they’ll owe me.”
“Is that a grand from each of them, or…?”
“Total,” he replied. “So, just deal with it, would you?”
Hmm.
That wasn’t too bad an offer.
That grand would go nicely into my savings account for when I bought a house once I’d escaped this marriage.
“You can kiss my cheek,” I said. “Or my hand. Or my head. But not my lips.”
“Well, we’ll have to do it at least once or twice more for photos, but all right.”
Ugh. “This is the worst day of my life.”
Fred sighed and sat on the arm of the chair, peering down at me. “You know, most people usually say their wedding day is the best day of their life.”
I turned my head to meet his gaze. “Sorry. Marginally the worst day of my life is the best I can do.”
He reached out to smooth a few flyaway hairs. “Don’t worry. The feeling is entirely mutual.”
“Hey, you should be honoured to marry me,” I replied. “I look great in this dress.”
He stared at me, smiling.
“Yes, Deli, you look lovely,” I muttered, getting up. I smoothed out my full skirt, contorting my upper body to make sure it wasn’t a mess behind me.
Fred stepped up to me and knelt down. He gently rearranged the folds of my skirt, even going as far as to smooth the petticoat underneath to make sure it was all sitting properly.
“There,” he said, pushing back up to standing.
“Thank you.”
He held his hand out to me. “Let’s go. We’ve got to get back out there before they come looking for us.”
I put my hand in his, and he linked our fingers. He stepped in front of me, stopping me from moving, and clamped his arm around my waist. He moved our clasped hands to his back so I was half-hugging him, and I pressed my free hand flat against his chest.
“What are you—”
He lowered his voice to a whisper, and his breath fluttered my hair as he said, “You look beautiful, wife.”
I inhaled sharply, and I was just about to push him away when there was a knock at the door.
“Yes?” Fred took a step back from me and turned towards it.
It opened, and Harry stepped inside with his head lowered. “My lord, my lady, the photographer is waiting for you both in the secret garden.”
“Very well. We’ll head over there in a moment,” Fred replied. “Make sure Nana rests while we’re taking these.”
“Of course, my lord.” He bowed his head once more before leaving the room, letting the door click shut after him.
I stared at the space Harry had just occupied. “I was right… The ‘my lady’ thing is weird.”
Fred grinned and raised our hands between us. “Get used to it, wife.”
“That’s even weirder.”
“Get used to that, too. I’m still waiting for your pet name for me.”
“Hmm.” I pretended to think about it as he brought my shoes to me. “What about if I called you a daft cu—”
“No,” he quickly said as I put them on. “Daft cunt cannot be your pet name for me.”
“Why not?” I pouted. “That’s the greatest term of affection in the British language, you know.”
“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.