Page 157 of Bridesmaid By Chance
SLOANE
“I can’t believe you surprised me with a fake proposal. I honestly didn’t see that coming, almost felt like a real proposal,” I say as I hang on Hudson’s arm as we walk through Hyde Park. “It was so magical.”
“Very magical,” Hudson says.
“And they offered us so many free things. That’s why you have to bring it down to a human level, you know? People who shop local, live local, not looking to capitalize on tourists but rather interact with them on a human level, those are the people you need to surround yourself with. They truly cared about our love in there.”
“They really did. You could feel it.”
“I’m glad they were the ones we could end this quest with.” I sigh and lean my head against his shoulder. “And the tea set they gave us too? I mean the scones were great enough, but the addition of the tea set, that was unexpected.”
“I think they just saw how committed we were to each other and thought it could be a celebratory tea set.”
“Our anniversary set. We must drink tea from it every…” I pause and then laugh, because…duh, there is no anniversary. “Oh wait, we’re not going to have an anniversary. Hmm, well, maybe every year we can get together on the day we divorce and cheers to a job well done.”
Hudson grows tense next to me.
“That’s unless you want to be married to me forever.” I look up at his clenched jaw and poke it. “Hey, what’s the tension for?”
“I just don’t like it when you talk about divorce. It’s not necessary.”
“Okay,” I say, caught off guard. “Didn’t know that bothered you.”
“You’re my wife, Sloane, of course it fucking bothers me.”
“But like…not a real wife.”
“It’s as real as it will ever get, and until it’s not, I don’t want to hear about divorce.”
Yikes, okay. Once again, he could not be more confusing.
“I’m sorry, Husband. No more divorce talk. What do you want to talk about then?”
“Condoms.”
“Uh, what?” I ask on a chuckle, totally not expecting him to say that.
“I want to talk about condoms.”
“Okay. Interesting topic, but we can go there. When was the first time you ever tried to put one on?”
“Not like that,” he says in exasperation. “We’re not using them, Sloane.”
“Ah, right, I have noticed your penis has been quite liberated in my vagina.”
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, but I can see the humor on his lips.
“Tell me it’s not true. Your old dilly dong has been running loose in there, filling me up with your strong seed.” I fist pump the air, and he lowers my fist down with his hand.
“Can you, for the love of God, not say ‘strong seed’?”
“Would you prefer ‘milky white pearls’?”
“I would prefer none. Christ, Sloane.” This time he chuckles. “Dealing with you feels like herding cats a lot of the time. It’s hard to get you to focus and not act like a…”
“Like a what?” I ask, staring up at him.
“I don’t know…an annoying asshole fresh from college.”
