Page 89 of I am Dressed in Sin (Death by Daybreak MC 2)
I look back at Cat, reclined like a king in the living room that used to belong to his mother. We can’t live here permanently. Too much shit goes down at this place, but I guess for now, during a war, this is where we’re staying.
“You got a problem with that?” he asks, his tone a warning. See, I told you that he suspects me. His dark eyes glint with the promise of pain.
“Do I have a problem getting married during a war? Yeah, I sort of do. Isn’t this something that can wait?” I’m thinking mostly about Reba right now. Just Reba. The idea of getting married while she’s still missing, while she’s … fuck, God only knows what they’re doing to her.
Virginal Reba. Sweet, pretty Reba. The girl who’s waiting for marriage.
My insides twist up into an impossible knot. If I mention Reba, Cat will shrug her off, and I can’t deal with that. They all assume she’s already dead. Nobody cares either way. Nobody but me and maybe, because of me, the four men I’ve chosen as my own.
“You’ll get married while the other chapters are in town, or you won’t get married at all,” Cat warns me, and Beast stiffens up beside me. He can’t handle that, the idea that Cat could actually come between us. If it came down to it, I have zero doubt that he’d quite literally kill my father and whisk me away to keep us together.
The thought, as violent as it is, is oddly comforting.
My mouth turns down in a frown.
“What day, exactly, is this supposed to happen? Shall we head down to the courthouse and get hitched tomorrow? Get it over with.” I’m getting angry, but I can’t possibly think about a wedding when my best friend is missing. I’m just not that sort of monster. Nah, that’s more Gaz’s thing.
“Courthouse?” Cat asks with a sharp laugh. Nellie reappears with his plate, and he drags her down into his lap before taking it. “You can file papers at the courthouse, but you’re not getting married there.”
“Oh, Gidget, let’s plan a wedding,” Nellie says, smiling at me from her position on my father’s lap. “We can pick out a dress and plan a party.” Her eyes sparkle, but only partially with joy. I know why. I know what she’s thinking. You’re the only daughter I have left. I was supposed to do this three times, but now … please let me do it at least once.
Fuck.
“We’ve had some hard years around here,” Cat muses, stabbing his sausage and bringing it to his mouth like a barbarian. He doesn’t bother to cut it into manageable pieces. I think about the mafia and their fine-stemmed wineglasses, their waltzes, their five course dinners. “We need something unifying.”
Unifying.
Mm.
I glance over at Beast, but he never gives anything away that he doesn’t want. Right now, it’s clear he doesn’t want to show a single emotion at all.
I’m going to be a unifying factor for the club? With my marriage to an officer that lies for me? How … ironic.
Meanwhile, golden boy Gaz who’s always been my father’s favorite, is quite literally rat-fucking the club for what, Rolexes and whores? I have no idea.
“Let’s give you girls two weeks to plan,” Cat muses, setting his plate aside and then rubbing at his beard. “We’ll have the wedding fourteen days from today.” He gives me a look. “I’ll give your mother a budget, but not a penny more. You hear me?”
And then he’s standing up with my mom in his arms, and Nellie’s letting out this girlish shriek that has me cringing. He carries her out the door while she kisses his neck, and I try my best not to gag.
“Gross,” I murmur, stabbing my own sausage and finally bringing it to my mouth. Just before I slide the tip in and subsequently bite it off, I make sure to meet Beast’s eyes. The ghost of a smile hovers on his lips. “Think you can wait two weeks to try this out?” I slide the sausage back into my mouth and Beast shakes his head at me.
“I don’t know how you got to be the way you are, suge,” he purrs, leaning forward and folding his hands together. “All I know is that I like it.”
A warm flush fills me, but I refuse to acknowledge it, focusing on my food instead.
Two weeks.
Do I have to make a choice in that time period? Between Beast, Sin, Crown, and Grainger? It’s almost as agonizing to think about that as it is to think about Reba.
“I don’t want to get married without Reba,” I whisper suddenly, the words sneaking up on me.
All at once, my throat is tight, and the hand that holds my fork is shaking. I can deal with a lot. Really, I can. But … somehow the idea of getting married without Reba makes me feel like I’m dying on the inside.
