Holy Frigging Matrimony: A Tangled Series Short Story
Page 9

She leans in and lays her head against my chest.
And all is right with the world.
“Thank you, Drew.”
And I know she means for more than just the compliment. I brush my face against her hair, inhaling the scent that still captivates me.
“Anytime, Kate. Anything.”
Over her head, I spot Warren—and more importantly, the woman he’s hitting on. And I start to laugh.
Kate’s head pops up. “What?”
I motion with my chin. “Warren’s talking to Christina Berman—a distant cousin of Matthew’s.”
She looks towards them. “And that’s funny because…?”
“Because up until a year ago, her dick was bigger than mine. She used to be a guy.”
Kate’s eyes bug out of her head. “Wow. You’d never know it, looking at her.”
“Nope.”
Then her gaze falls on me. Thoughtfully.
And I ask, “What?”
Her eyes shine. At me. For me. “Nothing. I just…I love you, you know.”
I shrug. “I’m a loveable guy.”
She laughs. And brings her palm to my cheek, smacking it softly. “And slappable—definitely a slappable guy.”
“Kinky. We should explore that further, later on.”
She chuckles again and kisses me softly. Then she pulls back and hooks her thumb towards the dance floor. “You want to dance?”
I’m almost offended. “The Electric Slide? I don’t think so.” Not that I have anything against dancing. Some guys will tell you it’s effeminate but I’m not one of them. Today’s dancing is practically sex with your clothes on, dry humping in a room full of people. And I’m definitely into that.
“What? Too cool for the Electric Slide?”
“Yes, I am. Besides, Steven has the monopoly on group dances.” I point over to where my brother-in-law is burning up the dance floor, at the head of the pack with Mackenzie at his side. “He also does a mean funky chicken.”
Kate cracks up.
A few hours later, we’re all walking out to the private parking garage together. My tie’s gone, the top three buttons of my shirt open. I’m holding Kate’s hand, which is lost in the arm of my tuxedo jacket that she’s wearing like a teenaged girl after the prom. Steven carries a sleeping Mackenzie on his shoulder, while Alexandra adjusts her dress with one hand and holds her shoes in the other. Matthew and Delores are already outside, saying their final goodbyes to the departing guests.
When he spots us, Matthew comes jogging up. His face is nervous—and remorseful.
“Drew…I didn’t know, man. I’m really sorry.”
“What are you talking about?”
He rubs the back of his neck and his eyes slide to my car, parked a few feet away at ground level, clearly visible under the garage light.
And that’s when I see it. Or more to the point—that’s when I see the words that have been carved into her hood.
“No, no, no, no, no…”
I stumble forward and fall to my knees beside my baby. I rub over the words, trying to erase the gouges with my hand. Then I yell over my shoulder at Delores, “You heartless monster! How could you?”
I turn back to my car and whisper soothingly, “It’ll be okay. I’ll get the best body guy in the city. It’ll be like it never happened. No one will ever know you were scarred.”
From the upper level I hear Billy Warren’s wail of anguish, and I know Delores got to his new truck, too.
I feel your pain, Douche Bag.
Leisurely, Delores strolls over. She looks down at me, eyes mocking, one fingerless-lace-gloved hand on her hip. “Pull any shit like that again and I’ll carve it into your f**king forehead.”
Then she smiles cheerily. “Night, everyone. Thank you for being a part of our special day.”
And she disappears into the shadows.
I feel bad for Matthew’s Guardian Angel. He’s going to be working overtime.
‘Cause I’m pretty sure my best friend just married a demon.
THE END