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“And you will marry me.”
I smiled, showing my teeth. “Don’t you mean, ‘Will you marry me?’ ”
I meant it to be funny, but his eyes brightened until little gold flecks were swimming in the darkness. “You had your chance to run, coyote. It’s too late now.” He smiled. “Your mother is happy that she’ll be able to use some of the stuff from your sister’s wedding that wasn’t.”
Panic swelled my heart. “You didn’t talk to her about this, did you?” I had visions of a church filled with people and white satin everywhere. And doves. My mother had had doves at her wedding. My sister had eloped to get away from her. My mother is a steamroller, and she doesn’t listen very well . . . to anyone.
Fler smakbitar finns hos Mari. Ha en trevlig kväll :)