Don't Kiss the Bride

“Yes. They also put a bunch of those just married streamers all over my locker. They won’t leave me alone, and I’m sick of it.”

His eyes flash dark with anger and I catch the clench of his inked fist. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

I shrug. “I was just trying to deal with it.” That’s a lie. I didn’t tell him because all of it is so incredibly juvenile, and it would be like plastering the fact that I’m eighteen and in high school on a billboard right in front of him.

And because I don’t want him to regret marrying me.

He sucks a long drag off his cigarette, then puts it out in one of the potted plants. “This shit better stop or I’ll be going down to the school my-fucking-self to make it stop.”

I have to admit, his protectiveness is attractive. But it’ll only make things worse if he shows up at my school like an outraged parent. “Jude, you can’t do that. You’re not my father. Even the principal said these are very unusual circumstances.”

I go back to scratching my lottery ticket while he continues to pace the room.

“Fuck that. I don’t let anyone hurt the people I lo—care about.”

“I appreciate that, but I have to deal with it myself. The principal said the other girls are being suspended, too.”

“Principal Dalton?” he snorts out her name. “She’s a joke. She’d have a stroke if I walked into her office.”

“Well, it’s not helping matters that apparently you were a bit of a hellion when you went to school there, and now I’m legally married to you. The association with you isn’t doing me any favors.”

I can’t bring myself to tell him about the two-hour-long meeting I had with my guidance counselor and the principal where they voiced their concerns about me being married to an older man with a concerning past, and how they’re worried about predatory behavior and unhealthy relationships, and how men take advantage of young, vulnerable women. It was all beyond uncomfortable and embarrassing, but I was honest with them about the situation with my parents and my old home life and my reasons for getting married. I assured them I was in therapy with a great team of doctors. I left out the part about Jude and me having sex, for obvious reasons.

I’m just doing my best to live a happy life and reach my goal—to get out of this town and live a life free of stress, heartache, and drama. I want a new start. Have I made some bad decisions? Probably. But don’t we all? I’m a work in progress, and I’m not going to beat myself—or Jude—up over any of it.

I scratch off the last square of my ticket and stare at the little images. Oh my God! I jump out of my chair.

“I won a hundred dollars!” I wave the card in front of him excitedly. “That’s the most I’ve ever won. I’ll give you half. That was the deal.”

“Keep it. You might need it for bail if you keep it up, killer,” he teases.

“I promise I won’t hit anyone again. She just pushed the wrong buttons today.” The things those girls said about Jude were disgusting and unforgivable, and honestly, I don’t regret making Paige eat my lunch tray. Maybe she’ll think twice from now on before being a bitch.

Jude hooks his finger in the belt loop of my jeans and pulls me up against him, wrapping his arm around my waist. I kiss his cheek, and he hugs me closer.

“If this shit at school continues, you tell me, okay?”

I nod. “I will.”

“I kinda miss you,” he says in a low voice that sends a tingle straight through my thighs.

“You saw quite a bit of me last night.”

He laughs. “Yeah, I did. And that was fucking amazing. But I’ve missed hanging out and watching TV with you at night. It’s the best part of my day.”

“Oh,” I say, surprised. I didn’t realize he looked forward to our time together as much as I do.

“Look, I don’t want you to think it’s just sex between us, okay? It’s a lot more. I’m not good at talking about my feelings or being gushy. All this is new for me.”

I swallow and blink at him. “Okay. Me too.”

“I have to run out and do an estimate, but I’d like to spend time with you when I get home.”

My stomach instantly flutters with anticipation that he might want our relationship to be more.

“I’d like that, too.”

I’ve just stepped out of the shower when the front door opens and closes downstairs. I glance at my phone screen, surprised to see it’s only six thirty. Jude’s only been gone for an hour, but his estimates usually take him at least two hours.

I slip into my red silk robe and go downstairs to make sure everything’s okay, but it’s not him making noise in the kitchen—it’s a young woman who appears to be raiding the refrigerator. My anxiety kicks into high alert. Not just because there’s a stranger in the house, but also because she’s in the fridge touching the food. I don’t know what she’s touching, or what she touched before I got here. Her hands could be covered in germs.