Author: L. A. Witt; Cari Z.
Date: 2018-01-13 08:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Romance; Contemporary; Crime; Mystery
Description: Detective Andreas Ruffner is no fool — he's found a man who loves him, puts up with him, and has stuck with him through hell and back, and it's time to put a ring on it. Darren Corliss is the love of his life, and he wants the whole world to know it. Now the fun part — the wedding! Well, after the not-so-fun part of planning the wedding in between dealing with overbearing and impossible-to-please family members. With future mothers-in-law driving them both up a wall, the guest list growing out of control, and the wedding getting ever more complicated, Darren and Andreas have to wonder if they'

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All person(s) depicted on the cover are model(s) used for illustrative purposes only.

Romantic Behavior

Copyright © 2018 by L.A. Witt and Cari Z

Cover art: Garrett Leigh, blackjazzdesign.com

Editor: Rachel Haimowitz

Layout: L.C. Chase, lcchase.com/design.htm

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ISBN: 978-1-62649-633-0

First edition

January, 2018

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Detective Andreas Ruffner is no fool—he’s found a man who loves him, puts up with him, and has stuck with him through hell and back, and it’s time to put a ring on it. Darren Corliss is the love of his life, and he wants the whole world to know it.

Now the fun part—the wedding!

Well, after the not-so-fun part of planning the wedding in between dealing with overbearing and impossible-to-please family members. With future mothers-in-law driving them both up a wall, the guest list growing out of control, and the wedding getting ever more complicated, Darren and Andreas have to wonder if they’re in over their heads.

But they’re going to make it to the altar if it kills them . . . and at this rate, it just might.

About Romantic Behavior

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Dear Reader

Also by L.A. Witt

Also by Cari Z

About the Authors

More like this

Andreas was acting . . . strange.

Not “I’m meeting with a drug lord behind your back” strange, or “My kids don’t know about us but I’m going to invite them all to dinner and the hell with it” strange, thank God. We were past those points in our relationship. All of the big surprises were out of the way: everybody knew about us, nobody cared, our families were happy, and neither of us were involved in anything shady for the greater good. At least, I was pretty sure we weren’t. I wasn’t, but then I wasn’t the one on edge.

You wouldn’t think it had been less than two weeks since we’d come back to the precinct after the best vacation of my life. Three weeks of sunshine, sand, clear blue water, and tropical drinks with paper umbrellas that I’d saved to give to Emily, Andreas’s youngest. It had been a nice trip—a necessary trip, as far as I was concerned, the first real break we’d gotten from the job while neither of us was recovering from an injury. My stab wound was nothing but a scar now, and Andreas’s ankle was strong enough that he’d supported my weight and his for long enough to— Well, it was fine, is the point. Pretty much recovered.

Andreas scratched a fingernail across the pocket of his jeans, the fabric stuttering under the force of his hand. He’d been worrying that seam for the past half hour.

“You’re going to wear a hole in that if you don’t let up,” I said for the second time that afternoon.

“What?” He glanced at his hand. “Oh.” He took his hand away, only for his fingers to end up tapping the top of the desk a minute later.

“How much coffee did you have today?”

“One cup, this morning. Why?”

“Because you’re acting like Erin when she’s had nothing but Coke to drink for an entire shift.” Erin was Andreas’s oldest daughter, and she worked here in the precinct as an admin for the Internal Affairs office. She was nice enough that people got along with her despite that, though.

Andreas shook his head. “I’m fine.” His phone buzzed, and he picked it up and grimaced at the number. “I’ve got to take this. I’ll be right back.” He left without another word, and I watched him go, then sidled over to Paula’s desk on the other side of the bull pen.

“Okay, what’s wrong with him?”

“What’s wrong with who?” Paula squinted at her computer screen and tapped the backspace key. She was as bad as Andreas when it came to wearing her reading glasses at work.

“What’s wrong with Andreas?” Paula Morris was probably Andreas’s closest friend, and the hardest worker in the entire precinct. She’d helped us close some very big cases over the past year, and if anyone knew what was going on with him, it was her.

“Why are you asking me?” She looked up at me blearily. “You’re his boyfriend.”

“He’s acting cagey, and he hasn’t met my eyes all day. I don’t think he’s going to tell me anything right now.” And it hit me, just then, how bothered I was by that. I thought we were past the big denials, the keeping-things-to-yourself phase that had sucked so bad. Paula was right. I was his boyfriend. I should know what was going on. That I didn’t was disturbing.

“Whatever it is, he’ll come out with it when he’s ready. Or if you just man up and ask, probably.” She laughed, leaning back in her rolling chair. “Just watch out if he wants to take you somewhere fancy all of a sudden. My last boyfriend broke up with me that way. Guess he thought if I was full of gourmet food and out in public, I wouldn’t kick up a fuss.”

“Was he right?”

“Yeah, but he made the mistake of telling me before we’d had dessert. I ordered the entire dessert menu and took most of it home with me. I was swimming in chocolate ganache and crème brûlée for a week.” She smiled. “Good times.”

“The dessert was more memorable than the guy, huh?”

“The dessert didn’t bitch and moan about me staying late to hunt down rapists and murderers instead of going home to cook him dinner and watch the latest episode of Downton Abbey together.” She pursed her lips. “In retrospect, his thing for corsets and Victorian porn makes a lot more sense.”

“Ooo-kay.” Andreas chose that moment to come back into the room, and I was desperately grateful for the out. “Thanks for the chat and never, ever talk to me about that again.”

“Be a man!” she shouted at my back as I returned to my desk.

Andreas was still fiddling with his phone, but at least he looked at me when I got close this time. “So,” he said dryly, “when did you stop being a man, and is it permanent?”

I grinned. “Ha ha, shut up. Who was that?”

“The call? Oh . . . nobody, nothing important.” His free hand was rubbing over his pocket again. “Listen, I was thinking. How about we eat out tonight?”

“Sure.” We hadn’t been out to dinner since we’d gotten back from vacation. “That sounds great. You want to invite any of the kids?” Erin had a date with her boyfriend, I was pretty sure, and we didn’t have Emily this weekend, but Lisa, Andreas’s ex, was always willing to share time.

“Nah, just you and me tonight.” He put his phone away and took a deep breath. “I was thinking Laudisio’s.”

I froze in the act of putting on my jacket. Laudisio’s was the nicest Italian restaurant in the entire city. I had eaten there all of two times, and I could still remember exactly what I’d ordered, it had been so good. It was ridiculously popular and exorbitantly expensive, and not the sort of place where you just dropped in. “We’ll need reservations,” I said slowly, finishing with my jacket and putting my hands in my pockets, just in case they were visibly shaking.

“We’ve got them.” Andreas wasn’t avoiding my eyes anymore, and the intensity of his look would have been enough to send me running if I were a criminal. Or if we’d been at home, it would have had me tackling him to the bed. But this wasn’t the time. Especially since I had no idea what was going on.

Ask him. But my tongue was stuck to the top of my mouth, dry and useless, and I couldn’t quite make myself unstick it. Awesome. Now I was nervous.

We took Andreas’s car to the restaurant—we pretty much took his car everywhere, since we worked and lived together. Mine had been relegated to the apartment’s garage for months, and I didn’t miss it, but now I found myself wondering if I needed to get an oil change, or at least check the battery. Just in case I had to start driving it again regularly. Just in case Andreas asked me to move out or something.

“You okay?”

“Hmm?” It was my turn to be jolted back into the real world. Thank God I wasn’t the one behind the wheel. “Yeah, I’m fine, just wondering why tonight. I haven’t missed an anniversary, have I? You’re not having another birthday, right?”

“No,” he said emphatically. “I’m not in any hurry to get older.” The fact that he was in his midforties and I hadn’t quite hit the dirty thirties yet bugged him sometimes.

“Oh, I don’t know.” I sank into bantering with grateful ease. “I think you’d make an excellent silver fox. We could frost your tips, get you used to the idea.”

“I would sooner shave my head than dye it.”

“Mmm, that would work too. Make you look tough.” Well, tougher. “You could grow a goatee and really complete the supervillain look.”

“And then you could grow a beard and pretend to be a— Oh wait, no, I forgot, you can’t grow a beard.”

I rolled my eyes. “My mother should never have showed you those photos.”

“They were cute. You were trying so hard to be grunge.” And failing miserably, he didn’t have to add.

“Well, I think if you let yourself go, you’d have the hipster look down to a tee.” Ah, there was the dramatic scowl I was going for. “You’d have to grow your beard out really bushy, maybe curl your moustache. I bet Erin would be happy to take you shopping for skinny jeans and vintage T-shirts.”

“All of my T-shirts are already vintage, according to her.” Now he sounded a little annoyed. “She stole my favorite Metallica shirt for a concert and hasn’t given it back yet.”

“Want me to hunt her down for you? Bring her in for questioning?”

“Eh, I can take it back later. I know where she lives.” He parked the car, and I realized with a start that we’d arrived. The restaurant gleamed with warm light, and elegant gold letters spelled out Laudisio’s over the door. I swallowed hard.

Any ease we’d established in the car vanished by the time we were seated at our table. It was nice, near the back and kind of removed from the rest of the dinner crowd. The tablecloth was perfect white linen, the water glasses were crystal, and the napkins looked like tiny cloth palaces. It was still the nicest place I’d ever eaten in, only this time that distinction scared me shitless. Was he going to . . . Was this . . .

Andreas finally broke the silence. “Okay, look.” I lifted my gaze from the table to him, and he was shaking his head and frowning. “I was going to wait until the end to do this, but I can’t put it off anymore. It’s been driving me crazy ever since we got back from vacation, and if I don’t say it now, I won’t be able to eat.”

“Uhm.” Very eloquent, moron. Fortunately, Andreas didn’t seem to need any input from me. He ran a hand through his hair, and I followed the movement with the kind of quiet focus that I only felt in a life-or-death situation. He was gorgeous, his dark hair lightened from three weeks on the beach, his skin warm and sun touched. His eyes had completely lost the wariness that had defined them when we first met, and I tried to see that as a good sign. If it was bad news, he’d be more tense, wouldn’t he?

“Here’s the thing. I— Look, I’ve thought a lot about it, about the two of us, and I—” He seemed stuck, and I resisted the crazy urge to slap my hand over his mouth so he couldn’t continue. “I just . . . Fuck, I’m doing this all wrong.” He sighed, then reached down into his pocket. “I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” He opened his hand and held out a two-toned gold ring. “Marry me?”

I promptly choked on nothing, waved off both Andreas and the waiter, grabbed for my fancy water, and drained half the glass in one long go.

“Jesus Christ,” I managed once I could talk again. “Really? I thought you were breaking up with me!”

“What?” Now he sounded as astonished as I was. “Why the hell would I break up with you?”

“I don’t know! That’s what I was trying to figure out!”

“How could you even entertain the idea?”

“You’ve been weird all day,” I shot back. “Avoiding me, acting anxious, not talking unless it’s to witnesses or suspects, and then you got that phone call and wouldn’t tell me who it was, and then—”

“That call was from this place. Just checking to make sure I wanted the champagne and tiramisu for later, when I was going to be asking you to marry me, instead of now, when I actually did it and apparently broke your brain.”

“Oh.” I blinked at him. “I love tiramisu.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s your favorite.” Andreas looked worried. “So. I have to say, this proposal isn’t going exactly the way I pictured it.”

I chuckled. “Are you kidding me? This is so us, I don’t think it could have gone any other way.” I held out my hand. “Give me that.”

“Give me an answer first.”

“Bossy.” He didn’t give an inch, though, and it occurred to me that Andreas might be just as worried as I’d been, but for an entirely different reason. “Yes! Holy shit, of course I want to marry you!” If he’d asked before I had my test results back, confirming that I didn’t have the gene for early-onset Alzheimer’s that had killed my brother, the answer probably would have been very different, but now that I knew . . . “C’mon. Give me my ring.” I made grabby hands at it, and he passed it over with a relieved smile.

“Wow.” It looked like three bands of gold pressed into one: glossy yellow on the outsides and mellow white in the middle. It was slender but felt heavy, and as I turned it over in my hands, I caught sight of an engraving on the inside. I held the ring up to the light. I know, it read.

I gaped at Andreas. “You . . . you Han Solo-ed my wedding ring?”

He shrugged smugly. He was the only person I knew whose shoulders had such capacity for smugness. “It seemed appropriate.”

“If you were any more perfect, I would have to throw you across this table and fuck you right here,” I said seriously, reaching over and grabbing his hand tightly.

He squeezed back, still smiling. “Try to restrain yourself until after dinner. I had to call in some favors to get us a reservation here in less than a month.” He straightened out my hand, then gently slipped the ring onto my finger. “Looks good.”

“Feels good.” It felt right, like I’d been wearing it already but only just now saw it. “You’ll have to tell me where you got it so I can return the favor.”

“I can do that.” He kissed the back of my hand—I just barely managed not to shiver—and then let go, picking up his menu. “Ready for dinner?”

“I feel ready for anything.”

After worrying myself stupid over this for the past few weeks, the relief was almost enough to knock me on my ass. Between that and the champagne, I was so tired after dinner that when the valet brought my car around, I gave Darren the keys.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” I started toward the passenger side. “Don’t be surprised if I fall asleep on the way home.”

He laughed and got into the driver’s seat. As he started the car, he glanced at me. “You all right?”

“I’m fine. Just . . . been so worked up over this for so long, I kind of feel like I do after we’ve finished a big investigation—ready to collapse.”

Darren arched an eyebrow. “Andreas. Dude. Did you seriously think I wouldn’t say yes?”

I shrugged as I buckled my seat belt. “Look, living and working with me is one thing. Making a commitment to put up with my shit until you’re dead is—”

“Shut up.” He leaned across the center console and kissed me. “I’m perfectly happy to put up with your shit. I’m just glad you finally broke down and asked before I went crazy.”

It was my turn to shoot him a look. “Did you really think I was going to dump you?”

That eyebrow arched again. “I’m thinking we need to work on this communication thing.”

“You’re probably right.”

We both laughed, and I squeezed his thigh as he pulled away from the valet station. As soon as the car was in motion, that fatigue kicked in even harder. I really should’ve proposed one of the hundred or so times I’d considered it over the last two weeks. Once I’d finally had the ring in hand, there’d been no reason to wait.

Except . . . I sucked at being romantic. And I’d thought pulling out all the stops and proposing in an upscale restaurant would show him I was at least capable of doing things that qualified as romantic. Trust my nerves to turn the whole thing on its ass.

As Darren drove, a streetlight glinted off the ring.

Okay, so maybe I hadn’t pulled off the world’s most flawlessly romantic proposal—though it was better than the last time I’d proposed to someone—but in the end, he’d said yes, and that was all that mattered.

And as soon as we got home, I was going to sleep for a damn week.

“So, um.” Darren cleared his throat. “What exactly is the protocol for telling people?”

Fuck. So much for falling asleep. “Maybe we should figure out when we’re getting married first. Because I guarantee that’ll be the first question.”

“True.” He tapped his thumbs on the wheel. “So . . . when are we getting married?”

“I don’t know. When do you think we should?”

“Um . . .” He glanced at me. “Honestly, we could just go hit up the justice of the peace or—”

“We are not eloping.”

“What? Why not?” He eyed me like I’d lost my mind.

“Because if we do, my soon-to-be mother-in-law will have my head on a stick.”

Darren burst out laughing. “Oh come on. As long as we’re happy, she’ll be happy.”

“Uh-huh. Okay, then. Tell her we’re eloping. I dare you.”

He glanced at me again. Then he shrugged and took out his phone. “Okay.” He entered the passcode and handed it over. “Put her on speaker.”

I eyed his phone, then him. “I kind of feel like there should be a bet here.”

“Such as . . .?”

“Hmm, I don’t know.” I considered it while I found his mother in his contacts. “Loser puts addresses on all the invites?”

“Doesn’t sound so bad.” Then he tensed. “Wait, how many people are we talking about inviting?”

I pressed Send. “Guess we’re about to find out.”

The phone rang on the other end.

“Okay. Deal.” He chuckled as he slowed to a stop at a red light. “But wait, if we elope, we won’t be inviting—”

“Oh hi, Darren,” his mother chirped. “This is a surprise.”

“Hey, Mom.” He shot me a look. One that said, Prepare to lose. “So, um, sorry to call you this late, but—”

“Honey, you know you can call me anytime. And why do you sound so far away? Are we on speaker?”

“Yeah. Andreas is here too.”

“Hi, Jessica,” I said.

“Hi, sweetheart. What are you two up to tonight?”

“Well, that’s actually why we’re calling.” He paused and grinned. “We, uh, got engaged tonight.”

“What?” She squealed loud enough I had to hold the phone at arm’s length. “You boys are getting married? Really?”

Darren laughed. “Yeah, we’re really getting married.” We exchanged smiles, and even with our little bet going, I couldn’t help getting a little choked up. We were getting married, weren’t we? Holy fuck.

“Honey, that’s wonderful!” Jessica’s voice was suddenly muffled, but still loud as she called out, “Vic! Andreas and Darren are getting married!” Beat. “I have no idea who asked, but, honey, they’re getting married!” She came back on the line and sighed. “I’m just so thrilled for you two. Congratulations!”

“Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “We’re—”

“So when is the big day? Have you set a date yet?”

“Actually, that’s the other reason we’re calling. We’re thinking we might just skip the whole shebang and go to city hall.”

“Or Vegas,” I added helpfully.

Silence.

“Mom? You there?”

“You’re not really going to Las Vegas, are you?” Jessica’s don’t fuck with me voice made me laugh.

“No.” Darren glared at me for a second. The light had turned green, so he accelerated through the intersection. “But we are thinking about city hall. You know, the justice of the peace. Quick and easy.”

More silence. Long, emphatic silence.

I had to smother a laugh. I hadn’t known Jessica Corliss for very long, but long enough to know exactly what her face looked like right now.

Darren squirmed, holding the wheel tight in both hands. “Or, you know, we could discuss something a little more involved, like—”

“I’ve got a friend whose daughter is a wonderful wedding planner,” Jessica said. “She can help you with all the details. I’ll email you her information and tell her you’ll be calling.”

Darren shot me the dirtiest side-eye, which only made it that much harder to contain my amusement. In a voice much too pleasant to match that expression, he said, “Sounds great. Thanks, Mom.”

“You’re welcome. Oh, I am so excited. Let me know as soon as you have a date, all right?”

“We will.”

After she hung up, I put the phone in the cupholder but didn’t say anything. We drove a few blocks in silence before he spoke.

“To be fair, she didn’t actually say she’d have your head on a stick.”

“And was there anything in that conversation that told you she wouldn’t murder us with her bare hands if we insisted on eloping?”

He blew out a breath. “Damn it.”

I patted his leg. “Have fun addressing all those envelopes.”

“Mm-hmm.” He paused. “Uh, exactly how many envelopes are we talking about?”

I just laughed.

“So, uh, how do we tell people about this? Just change our relationship status on Facebook and hope for the best?”

“Oh, no.” I shook my head as I started typing out a text on my own cell. “If I learned anything from my first marriage, it’s that there is a certain hierarchy to announcing shit like this.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. And that was back before social media.”

“Wait, there was a time before—”

“Shut up.”

He chuckled. “Man. People were fucking weird.”

“They are. And if your mom would lose her mind if we eloped, mine will lose her ever-loving shit if she finds out I’m engaged via Facebook instead of hearing it straight from me.” All of which was exactly why the text I was writing to Erin was prefaced with Don’t you dare post this on FB, but . . .

I’d barely taken my finger off the Send button when my daughter’s name lit up my caller ID. “Hey, kiddo—”

“He said yes? Oh my God, he said yes?”

I chuckled, giving Darren’s thigh a gentle squeeze. “He said yes.”

He glanced at me and smiled as he covered my hand with his.

“So, give me details.” She sounded even more excited than I felt. “How did it go?”

“Um.” I cleared my throat. “Well, I got a bit nervous, and . . .”

Darren shot me a look that said nothing if not Tell her and you’ll regret it.

“I probably could’ve been a bit more eloquent, but he got the message.”

“That’s so awesome! Does Grandma know yet?”

“No, which is why I don’t want this on Facebook quite yet.”

Erin snickered. “So what’s in it for me if I keep my trap shut?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I think it would be kind of hilarious to see Grandma blow a gasket all over Facebook, and—”

“Erin.”

Another snicker. “Like I said, what’s in it for me?”

“Not letting it slip that you moved in with Zach?”

Silence.

“That’s what I thought.” I laughed. “Anyway, I wanted to let you know. And yes, I’ll be calling Grandma tonight.”

“Good luck. And congrats, Dad. I’m really happy for you guys.”

I smiled, turning my hand over to clasp Darren’s. “Thanks.”

We hung up, and Darren eyed me. “Why am I getting the feeling I should have met your parents before tonight?”

“No, I wasn’t going to do that to you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I wanted you to say yes.”

“And . . . you think me meeting your mom might have . . .”

“I just didn’t want to take any chances.” I brought his hand up and pressed my lips to the backs of his fingers. “Relax. She’ll love you.”

He glanced at me, brow creased with skepticism.

“It’ll be fine. I promise.”

“Mm-hmm.”

I chuckled, hoping he didn’t see right through me to my own nerves. Truth was, when I’d held off on proposing to Darren for a few more days, the thought of breaking this to my parents had been a factor. I might’ve waited another week out of sheer cowardice if Erin hadn’t reminded me why I’d wanted to marry him in the first place.

“Didn’t you say something about life being short, why wait, and all of that?” she’d asked over lunch last week.

“Well, yes, but—”

“Grandma will get over it. And you know you’ll regret it if you wait to marry him because you don’t want to face her.”

And now that the cat was out of the bag and the ring was on Darren’s hand, there was no way in hell I was losing another night of sleep because I was worried about how my mother would react. The sooner I got this out on the table, the better.

So, after we got home, while Darren took the leftovers into the kitchen, I stepped out onto the small balcony with my phone. It was still early enough on the West Coast that I didn’t have to worry about waking them up, so I speed-dialed my parents’ house.

It rang on the other end, and I waited with my heart in my throat. Wouldn’t everyone at the precinct love it if they could see me now? I knew my reputation. I knew damn well I deserved every rumor about being everything from an asshole to a psychopath. Most people had been shocked that cheerful-but-snarky Erin was my kid. Their jaws had hit the floor when they’d heard I was dating someone, especially someone as generally pleasant as Darren. They would shit themselves when they found out we were getting married.

If they ever caught on that I still couldn’t call my parents without a semi-sick knot in my gut . . .

“Hello?”

I cleared my throat. “Hi, Mom. It’s Andreas.”

“Oh, hi. This is unexpected.” Funny how when Darren’s mom said it, it was heavily implied that the surprise was pleasant. When mine said it, there was, if anything, a note of suspicion. Or maybe that was left over from my teenage years when the undercurrent of Why are you in trouble this time? had permeated every call.

I muffled another cough. “Yeah. I just wanted to . . .” Oh shit. Might as well put it out there and take the fallout as it came. “I wanted to let you and Dad know I’m getting married.”

Jessica had squealed loud enough to crack both of us up. Erin had been nearly as enthusiastic.

My mom was . . . quiet. The silence was a lot more loaded and a lot less funny than Jessica’s had been.

I’d been out of my teens for almost thirty years, but damn if I didn’t feel fifteen and powerless all over again. Two inches tall, holding my breath, waiting for either a tirade or some hard-won approval.

Finally, she spoke in a flat tone. “Last I saw on Facebook, you have a boyfriend.”

“Yes. That’s right.”

“And he’s . . . the one you’re . . .”

“Darren is the one I’m marrying, yes.”

“I see.”

More silence.

I rubbed my eyes, suddenly even more exhausted than I’d been when I’d left the restaurant. Maybe I should’ve waited until tomorrow to do this. The night had been going so well, damn it.

“Well,” she said after a moment. “This is definitely a surprise. I didn’t think you’d been seeing him all that long.”

Then why does it feel like he’s been here my whole life?

“It’s been long enough.”

“I’m sure.” I swore I could hear her rolling her eyes. “And he looks . . . um . . .”

I cringed. “Younger?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“He’s not as young as he looks, but I’ve, uh, got a few years on him.”

“Define ‘a few.’” Her voice had an edge that made my teeth grind.

“He’s twenty-nine.”

“Twenty—” she sputtered. “Andreas, he’s closer to . . . Do my grandchildren know you’re marrying someone closer to their age?” Funny how they always became her grandchildren instead of my kids when she thought I was going to screw them up somehow, which was most of the time.

“They’ve met him,” I said. “They don’t know we’re engaged yet because I wanted to tell you and Dad first. But otherwise, yes, they know.”

She let out a long, heavy breath. “You’re not planning to have children with him, are you?”

“No. Four is enough.”

“Then why get married? Is this really necessary, Andreas?”

The irritation in my chest suddenly gave way to something much more raw. Not because my mother was less than enthusiastic—I’d expected that much. No, it was because her question brought to the surface all those emotions that had driven me into the jewelry store in the first place. The way I’d fallen in love with him all over again every time I’d watched him reading to Emily or snickering about something with Erin. The helplessness when he’d almost slipped away from me on the tarmac a lifetime ago. The dumb arguments when I’d be genuinely pissed off, and how he’d piss me off even more by making me laugh until I couldn’t be mad anymore, and then we’d laugh and fuck and be okay again. The moments when he’d been the one thing anchoring me and keeping me sane and grounded while my kids had been in danger. When he’d kept me strong even when he should’ve been crumbling under the weight of his own grief after his brother’s death. The nights he didn’t know about when I couldn’t sleep, and I’d watch him in the darkness and wonder how the hell someone like him had ever found a damn thing endearing in someone like me.

Oh yeah, Mom. This is really necessary because I want the whole world to know I’m not letting go of this man.

I had to clear my throat again just to keep my voice even. “Yeah. It is. You and Dad don’t have to come if you don’t—”

“No, we’ll come.” She paused. “If this is really what you want, then of course we’ll be there.”

Don’t sound so thrilled.

“Okay. Well. We’ll keep you updated, then. When we figure out dates and all of that.”

“Yes, please.” She paused, then grumbled, “I assume it will be a proper wedding. As proper as it can be.”

I couldn’t decide if the swipe was because this was my second marriage or because I was marrying a man. Or just because it was me and nothing I did would ever be good enough. “Yes, Mom. It will.”

We made a bit more small talk. Caught up a little on what she and Dad were doing, and I gave her a quick update on the kids—mostly Emily, who was starting kindergarten. The older kids all had Facebook, so she kept up on them that way.

Then she had to go, so we ended the call. I slid the phone into my back pocket and stared out at the night sky. Nothing about the call had been unexpected, but . . . it hadn’t been fun. It never was.

Darren and I had laughed earlier about his mom’s enthusiasm and her insistence on us having a real wedding, but it wasn’t as funny now. I envied him. If Jessica had any flaws at all, they had something to do with trying too hard to make sure everyone around her was happy and taken care of.

My mother wanted us to have the big wedding too, but not because she wanted the whole world celebrating and popping champagne corks over the two of us getting married. Rather, anything less than a black-tie affair with no expense spared would be an embarrassment. If our wedding wasn’t good enough, neither was our marriage.

Well, I know who’s getting the better end of the in-law deal in this marriage.

The sliding glass door hissed open behind me. Then shut. A second later, Darren wrapped an arm around my waist. “How did it go?”

Eyes closed, I exhaled. Then I turned to him. “On second thought, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to tell your mom we eloped.”

Darren’s eyebrows shot up. “That bad?”

Yeah, it had been that bad, but it was hard to be frustrated or pissed off when I was looking into his eyes. As I smoothed his hair, my conversation with my mother seemed as far away as the ones from my youth. It was back in the far reaches of my memory alongside the disappointment in her voice when she’d found out Emily was on the way, or the “but you’re so young,” “aren’t they a little close together?” and “don’t you think two is plenty?” with each “Marcy’s pregnant” call. Each of those times, she’d eventually come around. For as much as she would never fully approve of me, her grandkids walked on water as far as she was concerned.

I cupped Darren’s face in both hands and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I guess we’re having a big wedding.”

“So our moms will be happy?”

“Yeah, but we’ll be happy too.” I smiled. “Let them have their wedding. We’re getting married. Period.”

“And we’re getting the wedding our moms want?”

Our eyes locked, and we both laughed.

“Of course. Whatever they want.” I pulled him closer and kissed his forehead. “As long as it ends with me married to you.”

Darren’s lips parted, and he blinked like he was shocked I’d managed to say anything remotely romantic. Which . . . fair. And I fully expected him to rib me about it, but instead, he ran his fingers through my hair and smiled. “Sounds perfect to me.”

Yeah. Me too.

We were off for the weekend, the actual weekend, not just a few days of downtime in sequence whenever we managed to schedule them during the week. We had an honest-to-God Saturday and Sunday free, and no commitments to the kids. It was a goddamn miracle. We should have spent it cleaning the apartment, or making food for the week, or—my personal favorite—fucking like very loud bunnies in our glorious and rare moment of total privacy. It wasn’t that I didn’t love Andreas’s kids, I did—they were my family now as much as they were his—but the reality was that when Erin could drop in anytime, or Emily was in the apartment with us, sex tended to be a little furtive. I hadn’t really gotten a chance to make Andreas scream since we got back from vacation, and I was ready to remedy that.

It didn’t work out that way.

I’ve always known my mom was a doer; she didn’t believe in waiting until the last minute for anything, and in fact was way more comfortable scheduling herself out a month in advance so she knew exactly what to do, when, to make her plans come together. Neither I nor my brother had inherited that trait, and once I’d moved out of the house, it didn’t affect me directly, so I’d kind of forgotten about it. But I woke up Saturday morning to a text from my mother about an appointment with the wedding planner, and I should really check my email and get back to her as soon as possible.

“Nooo.” I threw my phone onto the floor and burrowed back into Andreas’s side. “Fuck. It’s begun.”

“What’s begun?” How did he sound so awake at eight in the morning on a Saturday? It was unnatural.

“The planning.”

He chuckled and brushed his lips over my head. “Are you really surprised? This is your mother we’re talking about, and you’ve given her a goal. I’m kind of amazed she didn’t have us meeting with someone yesterday.”

“That would be crazy.”

“Mmm.”

That didn’t sound like the total agreement I was looking for. “No, really, it would be crazy, right? I mean, we don’t even have a date picked out yet, so how much planning is there really to be done?”

“More than you’d think. Marcy handled almost everything when we got married, but the planning phase lasted just under a year.”

Fuck. “A year.”

“Yep.”

I couldn’t imagine waiting that long to get married to Andreas. I wouldn’t wait that long, there was no way. “We’re not doing that.”

“But think of all the decisions that need to be made: colors, seasons, food, cake, the length of the stem on the champagne flutes—”

I elbowed him in the rib cage. “You’re a nasty, vicious troll.”

“Darren.” He rolled onto his side so we could see each other better. “Here’s the thing to remember about weddings: they’re not really about the people getting married.”

“Bullshit.”

“No, I’m serious. They’re about the community, about the people you bring together to support and acknowledge you. We could get married in a courthouse tomorrow, and I’d be perfectly happy.”

That sounded good to me. “Then maybe we should just—”

“But your mother will never get a chance like this again. It’s not surprising she wants to make the most of it. And my kids, hell.” He shook his head. “Can you imagine telling Emily she wasn’t invited to our wedding? Think that would go over well?”

Picturing her pouty-lipped, disappointed look was like pouring liquid nitrogen over my heart. “No, I guess not.”

“And all of our friends and our families—have they ever gotten together outside of a crisis? This gives them the chance to get to know each other without the strain of wondering whether we’re all alive or not. Plus”—and now he grimaced—“my parents are way more tolerable when their grandchildren are around. It’s the best possible way to meet them, really.”

I was kind of amazed. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

He shrugged. “I’ve had a lot more time to think about it. When Marcy married Phil, I went to her wedding. There was no way I wasn’t going to size up the guy who was gonna be my kids’ stepdad. Having a functional family means swallowing a lot of pride sometimes, but it’s worth it. And having a wedding that’s a little more than we’d considered will be worth it too.”

He was right, again. I was probably coming across as petulant by comparison. “You sound like a wise old sage. People are going to be climbing mountains to sit at your feet and collect your nuggets of wisdom before you know it.”

“Fuck off.”

“Exactly, just like that.” I nodded. “A pithy truth exemplifying the impermanence of life and the fact that they should probably be doing something with themselves instead of lying around waiting for you to maxim them.”

Andreas chuckled. “‘Maxim’ isn’t a verb.”

“It is now. I made it one.”

“God, you’re weird.”

I grinned at him. “Yeah, I know.”

I would have kept him in bed longer, but Andreas wasn’t good at being still, and as he reminded me, I had an email to reply to. The wedding planner was Shayna Moss, of Moss Event Planning, and she was carrying on a torrid love affair with the exclamation point, if her intro email was anything to go by. I emailed her back, and we set up a meeting in a nearby coffee shop for noon. Then I texted my mother to let her know I was, in fact, listening to her, and then finally persuaded Andreas into the shower for a fast but fun fifteen minutes. We got clean . . . eventually.

At noon we headed to the shop, where Shayna had already staked a claim on a table. There were . . . binders on it. Multiple binders. And folders, and was that tablet displaying an Instagram page?

“Hi!” Shayna waved us over as soon as we entered. “You must be Darren! You look so much like your mom, I’d know you anywhere.” Shayna was a brightly colored hurricane of a person who looked like a human bouquet, and smelled about as floral. She was younger than I’d thought, maybe even younger than me, and her smile was wide and genuine. She went for a hug, first from me, then Andreas. “I’ve heard so much about you guys from my own mom. Apparently you’re a hot topic whenever she and Jessica get together for cocktails.”

“How afraid should I be?” I asked, sitting down in one of the free chairs. Andreas sat next to me.

Shayna grinned. “Not too afraid. It’s all good . . . mostly.” She settled in across from us and pulled out her phone. “Okay, so I thought we’d get some of the basics out of the way first. How much lead time are you thinking?”

“How much do you think we need?” Andreas asked. “To get everything booked and arranged without driving us crazy?”

“At least two months. Depending on venue availability. Are you going to be getting married in a church?”

“No.” That was one topic where I felt the urge to put my foot down. “I’d rather not.” Neither of us was religious, and the last time I’d gone to church had been for Asher’s memorial service. I had no desire to revisit one for my wedding.

“Then you’ve got lots of options. There are city parks, pavilions, event centers . . .” She opened her folder and pulled a few sheets for us to look at. “Here’s a list of some of the most popular, with seasonal pricing. Two months would put you in September, which is a great time to get married.” She mock-fanned herself. “Not so damn hot. October’s a busy wedding month, but it would work well for an outdoor wedding. If that’s of interest to you . . .?” She took in what was probably my mildly panicked stare and moved on. “Something for you to think about. How many guests are you thinking?”

I glanced at Andreas. “My family plus your family is like . . . twenty?”

“Plus our friends, plus the people from work.”

Wait, what? “Why would we invite people from work?”

“Because if we don’t, we’ll catch hell,” Andreas grumbled. “Especially from a bunch of cops. We’re trying to mend fences, and inviting people to get sloshed on our dime is one of the best ways to do that.”

Okay, he had a point. Not that we were the ones who needed to be making amends, as far as I was concerned, but we’d pissed a lot of people off over the past year. Still . . . “If we invite everyone who’s ever frowned at us, we’ll go bankrupt.”

“Just the captain and the people on our regular shift, then.” He looked at Shayna. “Say between seventy-five and a hundred.”

We didn’t have that many friends and coworkers. “How does that equal—”

“Significant others too.”

“Ah, right.”

“Great!” Shayna plowed ahead like the Energizer Bunny on Red Bull. “Are you thinking a full sit-down dinner at the reception, or just drinks and apps?”

“I . . . don’t think we know yet.”

“No problem, there’s a list of caterers with their specialties included in the folder.” She pulled out another page. “You can pick whoever looks good, and we can schedule a tasting. Speaking of tastings, have you thought about your cake at all?”

“Other than that we should have one, no.”

“No worries! There’s a list of bakeries in there as well, read it all over and get back to me.” She looked between the two of us, then fiddled with her phone for a moment. “A fall wedding gives you a lot of options for colors. What do you think of russet?”

“I think it tastes good deep fried and served with ketchup,” Andreas replied, perfectly deadpan.

“Fair enough.” She pursed her lips. “What about something classic, like black with dark-blue accents? Or, ooh, royal purple!”

It was my turn to wince. “I’d rather not dress like a bruise for my wedding day.”

“Huh.” Shayna blinked. “That’s the first time I’ve ever gotten that comparison from a client, but I can see where you’re coming from. No blue, purple, or red, then?”

“Or orange,” Andreas said.

“Or pink!” I added.

Andreas nudged my knee with his. “Emily will be disappointed.”

“Emily will look good in anything,” I said firmly. “I don’t. Trust me, my mother has tried.”

“How do you feel about—” Andreas’s phone rang, and we paused to let him check it.

“Speaking of Emily,” he murmured, then took the call. “Lisa, what’s up?” There was a pause, and then—“Which park? Can you still see him?” Another pause. “Now’s not the best time, I’ve got— No, don’t put her on, come— Hey, baby! Yeah, Scruffy got loose at the park, huh?”

Go, I mouthed at him. Scruffy was Emily’s new dog, a terrier mix who was a wizard at escaping his collar. Andreas was the only one who could reliably coax him close enough to recapture, and the longer it took, the more distressed Emily got.

“Yeah, of course I’ll come help. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Okay. Okay, baby.” He hung up the phone with a sigh. “Sorry, but I’ve got to go.”

“Puppy emergency?”

“Yep.”

“Never fear, I’ve got this. You go get Scruffy. Which park are you heading to?”

“Miller Hill.” He leaned in and kissed me. “Come and join us when you’re done here.” He looked over at Shayna. “I’m sorry to run out.”

“Oh, it’s no problem at all. We’ll just hit a few more things before we finish up for now. I won’t keep Darren long.”

“Thanks.” He left, and once the door was shut and I couldn’t track him through the window anymore, I turned back to Shayna. She had a bemused little smile on her face.

“Jessica said you guys were adorable together, but I wasn’t sure I believed her.” Her smile turned brilliant. “Your wedding is going to be fantastic! The pictures alone will be epic. Speaking of which . . .” She opened a binder. “Let’s talk photographers, videographers, and DJs.”

I swallowed hard. “Okay.”

Shayna dropped me at the park an hour later, and after I’d left her folder in my car, I went to find Andreas. My head was swimming, my brain full of the zillion things that now needed to be done. Guest lists, invitations, catering, where the wedding was going to be in the first place . . . it went on and on. Shayna had laid out a timetable and promised to keep us on schedule, which was good, because I already knew I wasn’t going to be much help there.

Lisa, Emily’s mom, was sitting on a bench with Scruffy firmly tethered next to her, watching Andreas push Emily on the swings. I sat down and made a sound like a deflating balloon.

“Have fun with the wedding planner?” Lisa asked. I stared at her. “Andreas filled me in. Congratulations, by the way, I’m really happy for the two of you.”

She genuinely was too, which was only a small part of what made Lisa awesome. Life had tossed her around a lot, but she’d picked herself up each time. She only had one semester left before she had her bachelor’s in nursing, and she was as dedicated to their daughter as Andreas was.

“Thanks,” I said. “And no, not exactly fun, but it was necessary. Shayna’s cool, at least.” I sighed and settled back, closing my eyes against the glare of the sun. Scruffy licked my hand, and I absently patted his wiry head. “As long as it ends with us married, honestly, she could dress us in tutus and I’d be okay with it.”

“Andreas definitely has the legs for a tutu,” Lisa mused.

Did he ever. “And the ass, oh my God.”

“Oh, yeah. You better brace yourself, Darren.”

“Wha— Oof!”

Parents seemed to have this sixth sense when it came to the location of their offspring. I’d seen Andreas use it on Emily a dozen times, not even having to look at her to reel her in before she managed to fall off her chair, or catching her midleap on her bed. I didn’t have that supernatural ability yet, and the weight of a five-year-old hurtling herself into my lap was almost enough to bend me double, and more than enough to take my breath away.

“Emily, we don’t do that!” Lisa scolded. Her daughter wasn’t listening, though, tiny arms wrapping around my neck as she brought her face in close to mine.

“Darren,” she whispered. “Are you and Daddy really getting married?”

“Yeah,” I said with only a minor wheeze. “We are, sweetie.”

“And I can be your flower girl?” Emily was trembling, she was so excited. “Really?”

“Of course.” I smiled at her. “Who else would be our flower girl?”

This prompted a piercing scream of happiness that made Scruffy whine, followed by a huge hug for me. I glanced over her shoulder at Andreas, who looked as content as I’d ever seen him.

Yeah, fine—definitely worth the fuss.

When I’d married Marcy, the planning process had been a year-long nightmare that had nearly ended our engagement, relationship, and friendship more times than I could count, and we hadn’t even been the ones paying for the damn thing. To this day, the clearest memory I had of our wedding day was the two of us collapsing in the back of the limo after the reception and simultaneously muttering, “We should’ve eloped.”

Darren and I were a month into planning ours. We’d set a date for mid-December so my kids would be on break from their respective schools, but safely away from the Thanksgiving and Christmas travel rushes. That was still holiday party season, though, and we only had a venue because the wedding planner had pulled a miracle out of her ass and found us a restaurant that had had a cancellation. She’d also sweet-talked me into coughing up a grand to reserve the place. Thank God neither of us needed a wedding dress or this whole affair would bankrupt us.

Through all the chaos and headaches—not to mention our high-stress jobs—Darren and I were surprisingly civil. Well, to each other, anyway. My mother and I had almost weekly conversations that Darren referred to as “heated,” and he’d saved the wedding planner as “Satan” in his contacts.

We didn’t really butt heads with each other, though. If anything, we approached planning our wedding the same way we approached working together. We either divided and conquered or tackled something as a team, and when we disagreed, it just never seemed like something worth raising our voices over. I vetoed dress uniforms because they were uncomfortable, and didn’t argue when Darren insisted on cummerbunds with the tuxes. He thought engraved invites were nicer, I thought printed were more practical, and we let his mom decide. (She picked engraved because of course she did.)

We never forgot we were on the same team, and through it all, I couldn’t even count the number of times I heard the words of young me and my ex-wife coming out of our mouths: “We should elope.”

But we didn’t. Because we couldn’t disappoint our parents. His mother would be sad and mine would be insufferable, so the planning steamed on.

“For fuck’s sake,” Darren snarled at the three-inch-thick binder spread across his lap and let his head fall back against the couch. “Why is there not an ‘I don’t give a shit’ option on the floral stuff? I don’t even know what the difference is between a rose and a lily and a . . . whatever the fuck those are.”

I leaned over the couch behind him, resting my forearms beside his shoulder. “Orchids.”

He twisted around and eyed me like I’d spoken another language. “Huh?”

I nodded toward the colorful photos. “Those are orchids, Darren.”

He shifted his gaze back and forth between me and the flowers. After a moment, he shook himself. “How the . . . Since when do you know anything about flowers?”

Grinning, I pressed a kiss to his temple. “I’m not a total caveman, you know.”

That brought a smile to his lips. He reached up, curved a hand around the back of my neck, and drew me down. “But I like your caveman side.”

“Mmm, I know you do.” I gave him a light kiss, but didn’t pull away. “Just wait till the wedding night.”

His eyebrows flicked up. “Seriously?”

“Um, yeah? That’s the prize at the end of all the bullshit.” I gestured at the binders. “We appease everyone we know by jumping through the crazy hoops, and then we take off somewhere and fuck like bunnies until we can’t move.”

The way his head was tilted back emphasized the bob of his Adam’s apple. “I should probably be annoyed that you’re not getting all romantic about us saying our vows in there somewhere, but man, that last part sounds pretty good.” He absently nudged the binder forward, probably to make room for the distinctive bulge stretching the front of his jeans.

“Isn’t she waiting for an answer from you?” I teased. “I should let you get back to—”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he growled, and kissed me again.

Thunk. The binder hit the floor at Darren’s feet, and a few pages whooshed out. The rings had probably popped open, and getting it all back in order would be a nightmare, but . . . whatever.

“You’re gonna get a stiff neck like this,” I murmured against his lips. “Let’s go in the bedroom.”

He didn’t argue.

As we sank onto the bed, though, Darren sighed, and it wasn’t a horny sound so much as a dog-tired one.

“You all right?” I slid up beside him, draping my arm over him. We’d both stripped off our shirts on the way into the bedroom, but hadn’t gotten any further than that.

“I’m good.” He smiled but looked even more exhausted than he sounded. He ran his hand up my chest, his fingers warm against my skin. “I guess this has all been wearing me out more than I realized.”

I sucked at these conversations. I never quite knew what to say without making it worse. If I’d learned anything about Darren, though, it was that sometimes he didn’t need me to talk. Hoping this was one of those times, I pulled him closer, and he relaxed against me as I stroked his hair. This wasn’t quite what I’d had in mind when I’d brought him in here, but I went with it. And damn, as funny and cute as it was to watch Darren getting flustered over flowers and cake decorations, I didn’t like seeing him like this.

“I love you,” he whispered. “And I’m glad we’re doing this. I’m just . . . stressed.”

“I know.” I kissed the top of his head. “It’ll be worth it. I promise.”

He grinned. “It already is.”

I snorted. “Sap.”

“Uh-huh.” He lifted his head, perfect hair mussed and just ridiculously adorable along with that smirk. “Says Mr. Romantic-Proposal-in-a-Fancy-Restaurant.”

“I don’t know how romantic it was, considering—”

Darren cut me off with a kiss, but then laughed. “It was perfect and you know it. It wouldn’t be ‘us’ if there wasn’t some sort of chaos attached to it.”

I laughed too. “Chaos does kind of follow us around, doesn’t it?”

“It really does.”

I touched his face and sobered as I really saw the fatigue in his eyes. “You know, there is a little bit of a silver lining to all the prewedding stress.”

He eyed me with a mix of uncertainty and hopefulness. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s like putting up wallpaper with your partner—if you can get through it without killing each other, and you still like each other when it’s over, you’re probably in for the long haul.”

The uncertainty faded away. “We’ve been doing okay, haven’t we?”

I nodded, caressing his cheek. “More than okay, I think. We’ve only fought over this shit, what, twice?”

Some color bloomed in his cheeks, and his sheepish smile melted my heart. “To be fair, we probably shouldn’t have been trying to settle on a photographer after eighteen hours at work.”

“No,” I said with a quiet laugh. “But if that’s as bad as we get when we’re both tired and bitchy and stressed, I think we’ll be all right.”

“Yeah. Me too.” He smiled, but it quickly turned into a frown. “Does it at least get easier after the engagement party?”

I groaned. That was coming up this weekend. We’d held off on doing it right away because my parents had wanted to be there, and they’d needed some time to make travel arrangements.

“You don’t sound very hopeful.” Darren’s voice was tight with uneasiness.

“It’ll get better. It really will.” I ran my fingers through his hair. “I’m just dreading having my mother and my ex-wife in the same room.”

He grimaced. “Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. Should we bring popcorn?”

I laughed and pulled him closer. “Yeah. Good idea.”

He gave another quiet chuckle and cuddled against me. He’d long ago given up on worrying that I’d get tired of his clinginess in bed. Okay, it sometimes got too warm, but we both slept naked these days, we had halfway decent air-conditioning, and I could always kick off the covers if need be.

Cling away, sweetheart. Cling away.

Darren sighed after a while and pushed himself up on his elbow. “I could’ve sworn we didn’t come in here to talk about being stressed about wedding planning.”

“We haven’t been talking about that for a good ten minutes.”

“No.” He trailed his fingers up the middle of my chest. “But we’re not doing what we came in here to do, either.”

“Is that a subtle hint?”

He pressed his hips against mine. “I’m not sure how subtle it was.”

I grinned and drew him in for a long kiss. The way his fingers were sliding up into my hair gave me goose bumps, and I ran a hand down his side before curving it over his ass and pulling him closer. Ah, now this was why we’d come in here. Between work and the wedding, we hadn’t been doing nearly enough of this lately.

I let my fingertips dip beneath the back of his waistband, and he moaned into my kiss. Oh yeah. Forget the wedding. Forget work. Forget everything that wasn’t getting Darren to make those needy little sounds he made when he was turned on.

He pushed me onto my back and straddled me. I hated that we had all these clothes in the way, but damn if there wasn’t something excruciatingly sexy about this—about a half-dressed Darren pinning me down and claiming a hot, hungry kiss while two layers of denim kept our dicks apart. He could be almost timid at times, but in the bedroom, he was an animal. Dominant. Demanding. Toppy as fuck. When the switch flipped between puppy-dog-eyed Darren and “get those pants off before I tear them off” Darren, I was putty in his hands.

I squeezed his ass and broke the kiss enough to—

Muffled music made us both freeze.

Muffled, coming from somewhere on the floor . . . “Bad Boys.” The goddamned COPS theme.

Darren groaned. I swore.

We could—and did—ignore a lot of calls, but not when that particular ringtone came from Darren’s phone. “Bad Boys” meant a call from the captain, and a call from the captain meant we needed to get our asses to work. Stat.

Because of course it did.

The engagement party was my mother’s idea. Naturally. She brought it up over coffee one morning while I was sitting with her in her home kitchen, going through the place setting options. She’d thumbed through a catalog of china and stemware before stopping on one particular page and sighing. “Oh, this is almost like what your brother and Melissa had at their wedding! It was so elegant.”

I glanced at the catalog. “I don’t think we can handle that kind of elegance.” I could just imagine paying to replace broken plates that were literally edged with gold.

“No, it’s not your style, I know. But Melissa’s mother loved it. She bought them an entire dining set in the same pattern for their wedding. We still talk, you know.” My mother absently flipped the page. “I send her recipes. She’s kind of hopeless in the kitchen, but she keeps trying, bless her heart.”

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that my mother was still in touch with her ex-in-laws. She’d kept up with my fifth-grade teacher and the woman who’d lived next to us all through my childhood but moved away a decade ago. Her address book was a thing of legend. “That’s nice of you.”

She shrugged. “It’s what you do for family. I have to say, I was a little nervous to meet Melissa’s parents, but the engagement party helped a lot. It got the introductions out of the way so that when the wedding came, we could focus on making sure everything went smoothly and wouldn’t have to worry so much about whether or not we’d get along.” She glanced over at me. “You and Andreas are having one, aren’t you?”

“Well, we weren’t . . . planning on . . .”

“Oh, honey.” She reached out and touched the back of my hand. “Trust me on this one, you don’t want to meet all of his family for the first time right before your wedding. That’s a surefire way to get you day drinking.” She frowned a little. “When you kids were younger, I used to be sorry that we didn’t have a big group of aunts and uncles and cousins to spend time with. These days though, I’m just as happy that we’ve got fewer people to deal with. It makes things easier to focus on you and Andreas and the kids and not give a damn what anybody else wants.”

I dramatically touched her forehead. “You, swearing? Are you day drinking already?”

She blushed and batted my hand away. “Of course not. I’m just . . . happy things are going to be a little easier this time around. Your brother’s wedding was lovely, but Melissa’s parents were pretty hard to please.”

If my mother thought that someone else was hard to please when it came to wedding planning, that said something. She had a point about the engagement party, though. I really didn’t want to spend the night before my wedding wondering if Andreas’s parents wanted to shank me or if poisoning was more their style.

I tried to argue we couldn’t afford the party, though. Because seriously, if the wedding planner suggested one more must-have detail—or OMG Must have!!!! in Shayna-speak—our credit card debt was going to start rivaling the GDP of a small country. Only in the red instead of in the black.

“Your dad and I will pay for it,” Mom said. “Consider it a wedding gift. Or, well, another wedding gift since we already bought—” She waved a hand. “We’ve got you covered, sweetie.”

And who was I to tell my mother no?

So . . . engagement party. My part was easy: all I had to do was invite my parents and—done. For Andreas, it got a little more complicated. Emily, Lisa, and Erin were here, but Ben and Casey lived a few states away, closer to their mother and stepdad. All four of them were flying in together and staying at a hotel downtown. Andreas’s parents were coming in for the weekend and leaving on a Monday red-eye—keeping their trip mercifully short, according to him. Erin, because she was fucking awesome, was picking them up from the airport.

Andreas teased her about taking the heat off us by introducing them to her boyfriend Zach while they were out here. “I bet even your grandmother can find something wrong with him, even if he is a handsome surgeon.”

To our surprise, Erin didn’t play along. “There’s plenty wrong with him,” she announced. “Like his inability to remember to tell you when he gets emergency-called into work and you end up spending an hour waiting for him in a restaurant, eating breadsticks by yourself like an idiot and wondering why he isn’t texting back, until one of the nurses—not Zach, it was one of his nurses who heard his phone buzzing and recognized my name—calls you up and tells you he’s going to be in the OR for at least the next five hours. And then you go back to your apartment by yourself and eat a pint of his favorite ice cream instead because fuck him if he gets to enjoy that goddamn mint chocolate chip when he left you hanging like that!”

Andreas looked dumbfounded. I laughed, which got me a dirty look before I explained that I wasn’t laughing at her, I was laughing because she sounded just like her dad. “You usually don’t, that’s all.”

“Being nice and sweet comes in second to getting respect from my boyfriend.”

Trouble in paradise, but I had faith that Erin and Zach would work through it. It was all part of getting the hang of living together. Especially since people of Ruffner lineage weren’t always the easiest people to live with.

Didn’t I know it.

Anyway, Zach and Erin would figure things out. Meanwhile, I had an engagement party to attend, and despite my begging several deities to make time go by slower or stop altogether, the clock kept ticking, and the party was tomorrow. Fuck.

And tonight?

Tonight I was meeting my soon-to-be-in-laws for the first time. And yeah, I was scared shitless, especially since I’d had it drilled into my head my whole life that first impressions were critical. I wasn’t even at the restaurant yet, and I was pretty sure I’d already blown it.

After all, it was just my luck that a long and chaotic week at work had come to a head yesterday when Andreas and I had gone to question a person of interest. It went to shit, of course. The details didn’t really matter except for the part where the dipshit had decided to run, and since I was the half of this partnership who hadn’t recently had my ankle reassembled, I got to chase his dumb ass.

I caught him—duh, I caught him—but he put up a fight. By the time Andreas showed up with the car, his service weapon, and that very hot—er, intimidating—cop voice, I had a bloody nose and a distinct throb around my left eye that said, Guess what’s gonna be purple this weekend?

“Perfect,” I muttered, staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Andreas was in the shower, and I had to wipe away the condensation every few seconds to keep myself in sight. I could open my eye, which was a plus, but it was still swollen and cradled by a purple-black crescent that probably wouldn’t hurt as much if I stopped prodding at it. It was hard not to, though. Like I had to make sure there was still feeling—Yes, oh my God! Ow!—and needed to inspect it constantly to make sure it wasn’t getting worse. Not like it could look much worse.

A little louder, I said, “This fucking shiner is really going to impress your mom.”

“You shouldn’t worry too much about that, Darren.” He sounded so casual. Like it really didn’t matter, even though, hello, it so did.

“I shouldn’t?” I glared at the shower door. “Why not?”

“Because they’re going to find a reason to complain no matter what. It might as well be for something obvious like a black eye.”

I glumly watched my face fog over again. “That doesn’t really make me feel better.”

“Wait until you meet them before you decide how much you want their approval,” he said, cryptic enough unless you knew Andreas. I could hear the fatigue in his voice, and knew that as tiring as our long week had been, it had nothing on the prospect of dealing with his folks.

I opened the shower door and pulled him into a kiss, ignoring the hot spray and the way it stung my face. “I don’t want their approval nearly as much as I need yours.”

“You’ve got that,” he said, tucking a hand behind my head and holding me close for another kiss. I was about to get in the shower with him, clothes and all, when he pulled back and tapped my cheekbone, just below my growing bruise. “Ice this.”

“Really? You want me to pick ice over a hot shower with you?”

“If it means the difference between you being able to see or being half-blind, then yeah, I do.”

Damn it, I hated it when he had a point. “Fine.” At least he softened the blow with another kiss before closing the door again.

I iced my stupid eye while I finished putting myself together for dinner. By the time we left, I was on my second ice pack, and I didn’t feel any better. The throbbing in my face still sucked, and my brain was still running in circles over how I was going to make it out of this dinner alive.

“You’re quiet,” Andreas noted after a while.

“Wow, you should be a detective.”

“Why are you so quiet, smart-ass?”

“Just . . .” Anxious, worried, wondering how I’ll measure up, hoping everybody gets along, wishing I was more like what your mom wants for you so everyone could be happy instead of dreading tonight and the damn party and the wedding and— “Thinking. About dinner and the party tomorrow.”

He squeezed my thigh. “Worrying about it?”

“A bit.” Ha ha, understatement.

“Why? Isn’t like you’ve never met my ex-wife.”

I snorted. “Yeah, that’s it.” Please. Marcy was just about the most fantastic ex-wife anyone could ask for. It hadn’t worked out between her and Andreas, but they’d stayed close because of the kids and turned into pretty good friends. They were tight enough that it didn’t seem weird at all for her to come to our engagement party, which was nice. I figured we could use the support. “Just . . . um . . . your mom.”

Andreas sighed. “Yeah. I feel ya.”

I twisted around a bit. “You’re supposed to have some sort of sarcastic encouragement so I can relax.”

“Sorry. Now I’ll be wringing my hands right there with you.”

“Oh.” I closed my eyes. Yeah, this whole weekend was going to be a blast.

“That’s her, isn’t it?”

Andreas glanced at the dozen or so people milling in front of the restaurant, then at me. “You can pick my mom out of a crowd at twenty paces?”

“When she’s the only woman in the crowd who’s both old enough to be your mom—”

“Hey!”

“—and looks like she’s trying to kill one of us with her mind?” I nodded sharply. “Yeah. I can.”

He gave a quiet grunt that might’ve been a laugh. “Which one of us do you think she’s trying to kill?”

“You tell me.”

This time it was definitely a laugh, but a half-hearted one. As we started up the steps leading to the restaurant, Andreas cleared his throat, and when he spoke, he sounded way more cheerful than he usually did. “Hey, Mom. Where’s Dad?”

“He’s inside,” she said tersely. “Talking to the manager so we can get seated on time.” The silver-haired woman clicked her tongue. “Our reservation is at seven, and the hostess insists we won’t be able to sit down until a quarter after.”

Any other time, I would have fought back a laugh. Righteous indignation over first-world problems amused the hell out of me . . . except when it was the future mother-in-law I was trying not to disappoint. That she already had her nose out of joint before we’d even arrived didn’t bode well for me. Good thing Andreas had driven tonight, because I was so drinking.

He and his mother shared a stiff hug, complete with an awkward pat on his back, and as he let her go, he gestured at me. “Mom, this is Darren. My fiancé. Darren, this is Louise. My mom.”

Louise shifted her attention to me, gave me a down-up so critical I almost started squirming, and then zeroed in on my left eye. “What happened to your face?”

And hello to you too.

I didn’t bother extending my hand since she obviously wasn’t interested in formalities. “Occupational hazard.”

Her eyes narrowed and darted toward her son. Andreas rolled his. Neither of them said anything, but it seemed like they were speaking volumes with just their eyes. I was glad I wasn’t privy to that mother-son telepathy. And with the visible tension building in Andreas’s neck and shoulders, not to mention the perma-scowl crevices deepening between his eyebrows, I decided I could forgo the booze tonight. He probably needed it more than I did, even if it didn’t mix well with his meds.

A tall man stepped out of the restaurant’s front door, and just like I’d zeroed in on Andreas’s mom, I knew instantly this was his father. Fatigue radiated off him, probably from traveling this morning. Or maybe just from at least forty-some-odd years with Louise. What pinged my radar, though, were the eyes. Andreas had definitely inherited his father’s intensely focused blue eyes.

Andreas smiled more warmly at the sight of his dad. “Hey, Dad.” They did one of those manly handshake-hug things, and then Andreas touched my shoulder. “This is Darren. Darren, my dad—Joe.”

“Nice to meet you, sir.” I tried to hide my nerves as I offered a handshake.

He took it, clapping my shoulder as he did. “Good to meet you too. And call me Joe. Nobody calls me sir.”

I smiled as we shook hands. Andreas’s personality was quickly beginning to make sense. His dad was friendly and warm. His mom was . . . his mom. Mix those together, and you got Andreas—not overly patient, not overly warm, but with a kind heart. He could be a real asshole when he wanted to be, but he’d give the shirt off his back to a stranger and walk through fire for someone he loved.

“Well?” Louise demanded. “What did the manager say?”

Joe made a placating gesture, and in an even tone—one I recognized from Andreas using it on his kids—said, “They’re setting it right now.”

She huffed like she’d been looking for a fight and was disappointed it wasn’t happening. “Did they say why there was such a delay?”

Such a delay? I arched an eyebrow, but quickly schooled my expression. Fifteen minutes is “such a delay”?

“They had a waitress call in sick and a larger party stayed longer than they expected,” Joe said with unwavering patience. “They’re working on it, dear.”

Louise sniffed, and I could also see where Andreas had gotten his scowl. “We have a reservation. I don’t want excuses.”

“Mom.” Andreas sounded just like his dad. “They’re working on it. It isn’t like we have to be anywhere after this. Just relax, all right?”

They exchanged near-lethal glares.

Before either of them could argue, the buzzer in Joe’s hand lit up. So did his expression. He waved the glowing plastic square. “Looks like they’re ready for us.”

Louise muttered something. Andreas rolled his eyes, and I thought I felt more than heard a low growl escape him.

As we filed into the restaurant, I slipped my hand into his and gave a little squeeze. He turned to me and offered a faint, apologetic smile. I squeezed again, hoping my smile was more convincing.

“You’ll be fine,” I whispered under my breath. “They leave on Monday, remember?”

Andreas exhaled. “Oh thank God.”

I laughed. He did too, elbowing me playfully, and we continued across the restaurant behind his parents.

While the waitress took our drink orders, I stole the opportunity to surreptitiously compare Joe and Andreas side by side, and . . . yep. That was my future father-in-law. He was an inch or so shorter than Andreas, and he had more lines, but the angle of his jaw, the shape of his nose, the way he set his shoulders—it was like looking into Andreas’s future. Full head of hair too. Entirely gray, which might have been genetics and might have been marriage, but his hairline hadn’t receded at all. Nice.

Andreas eyed me. “What?”

I blinked. “What?”

His eyebrow arched, and I realized I’d been grinning.

I quickly sobered. “Nothing.”

The eyebrow didn’t move.

“So, Darren.” Louise’s voice made me sit straighter. I fought the urge to swallow as I met her steely eyes across the table. And damn if she didn’t do the same eyebrow thing her son did. It wasn’t nearly as endearing, though, especially when she coolly said, “I’m very curious about what happened to your eye.”

I swear I could feel Andreas gritting his teeth beside me. Out of habit, I put my hand on his leg under the table. Usually that calmed him down, but the muscles turned to steel, and I realized a second too late that his mother’s laser focus had shifted to my arm. Her lips thinned with palpable disapproval.

Clearing my throat, I withdrew my hand and folded my arms on the edge of the table. “It was, uh, just a suspect who got riled up.”

“I see.” Her gaze shifted to Andreas. “And where were you during all of this? I thought the two of you were partners.”

“We are.” Andreas touched my leg just like I’d done to his a moment ago, and his eyes dared his mother to say anything about it. When he spoke, his voice was even but icy. “Darren is faster than I am. He chased the suspect down and tackled him.”

“Nicely done!” Joe beamed. “You give as good as you got, kid?”

I didn’t even mind that he’d called me kid, and chuckled. “I got in a few hits, yeah.” I gave Andreas an affectionate nudge with my elbow and didn’t bother looking to see if Louise disapproved. “Probably would’ve gotten in a few more if somebody hadn’t shown up and put the fear of God into him.”

“Oh yeah?” Joe asked with a laugh.

“Yeah. This guy pulls a gun and uses his cop voice, and pretty much everybody does what they’re told.”

Joe laughed again, heartier this time. “That’s my boy.”

Andreas . . . actually blushed. And it was fucking adorable.

I couldn’t resist. “Seriously, you should see it. He gets someone cornered and tells them to jump, they all say, ‘How high?’”

“If you’d known him as a boy, you’d never have believed that.”

“Dad,” Andreas said in a warning tone.

Joe gestured dismissively. “Oh relax.” To me, he said, “He was about as shy as they came when he was a kid. I was worried about him, honestly. Took him to self-defense classes because he wouldn’t stand up to the kids that were bullying him.”

“Bullying—” I blinked. “Bullying him?”

Andreas’s cheeks were so red they were probably visible from orbit.

“Oh, he was picked on all through school,” Joe continued. “I told him to stand up for himself, but he was too shy.”

My jaw was hanging open. “What . . . what changed?”

“Growth spurt,” Andreas said into his water glass. “When we came back to school in seventh grade, I was suddenly taller than everyone. And bigger.” He shrugged. “They backed off.”

“And you finally had a backbone.” Louise hadn’t spoken in a while, and her interjection cooled the nostalgic warmth at the table. “You learned to speak up and not let them walk all over you.” Most parents would be proud of that. She sounded like she was still annoyed it had taken him so long.

Joe sighed and, like Andreas, sought some refuge in his glass.

I glanced around, trying to figure out how to lighten the mood again. Finally, I nudged Andreas. “This is karma, you know.”

He looked at me, eyes wide. “What?”

“For being so thrilled when my mom showed you pictures of me trying to grow facial hair.”

Andreas laughed. Like, really laughed. He took his hand off my leg, wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and kissed my cheek right there in front of his mom. “But you were so cute with all that nonexistent peach fuzz.”

My face burned, but it was worth it to have him smiling again. The sacrifices I made for the man I loved.

Joe seemed to go with it too. He relaxed, and after a moment, gestured at his eye. “Darren, did my boy ever tell you about his first shiner as a cop?”

I sat up. “No.”

Andreas groaned, and now I was definitely intrigued.

Joe smirked. “That was, what, eight months after you got out of the academy?”

“Six,” Andreas muttered.

“Right. Six.” Joe shook his head and laughed. “He was on a call for . . . a noise complaint, wasn’t it?”

Andreas nodded, rolling his eyes.

“After they’d taken care of it, he and his FTO were talking to the homeowners, and their dog comes into the room. Andreas went to pet it, and it jumped up . . .” Joe made a gesture like he was punching himself in the face. “Clocked him right in the eye.”

I laughed, clapping a hand over my mouth. “You got a black eye from a dog?”

Andreas glared at me, but even he chuckled. “To be fair, she was a big dog. And the owner said she was friendly.” He shrugged. “I just didn’t think she was that friendly.”

“That’s . . . insanely adorable. Just FYI.”

His cheeks got redder. Which was even cuter. I suddenly wanted his dad to come up with more embarrassing stories just so I could watch Andreas squirm.

But then Louise reminded me she was still here. “Your timing could have been better with that black eye.” She tsked. “His cousin was getting married two weeks later, and Andreas was a groomsman. Every single picture . . . that damn black eye.”

“Oh come on, Louise.” Joe sighed. “Everyone thought it was funny. Did you hear all the stories people came up with to explain it? It was like a game.”

Andreas laughed dryly. “I still think my favorite is that the stripper head-butted me when she jumped out of the cake at the bachelor party.”

We all laughed. Louise didn’t.

“It wasn’t funny,” she spat. “It was embarrassing, and looked terrible in the wedding photos.”

Joe and Andreas both deflated.

The waitress rescued us by showing up with our drinks. “And have we decided on what we’re going to eat?”

Wait . . . we hadn’t even ordered yet?

Oh God. This was going to be the longest dinner ever.

“Pregaming already?”

Glass in hand, I glared across the kitchen at Darren.

He came closer, holding out his own hand and making a “give it to me” gesture. I ground my teeth, drawing my glass back protectively.

Rolling his eyes, he pushed out an exasperated breath. “Not the glass, idiot.” He reached past me for the bottle.

With a laugh, I opened the cabinet, which was closer to me, and got an empty glass for him. “And here I thought you were going to try to cut me off.”

He snorted. “Yeah right. If I cut you off, you’d cut me off, and . . .” He shook his head as he uncapped the bottle. “I’m about to spend an evening surrounded by people, including colleagues and my future mother-in-law. And that’s after I spent an evening in her insanely pleasant company. You better believe I’m drinking.” He poured a generous amount of bourbon for himself, then held up the glass.

I clinked mine against his, and we threw back our respective drinks. It was tempting as all hell to pour another. Or, well, several more. But the meds I was on didn’t mesh well with too much booze, and Darren’s tolerance was a lot lower than mine. My mother was going to be insufferable enough tonight without the two of us staggering in smelling like we’d had a threesome with Jim Beam.

Darren grimaced, eyes watering a bit. “Jesus. I always forget how strong this shit is.”

I chuckled as I put my glass aside, then reached over and wrapped him up in my arms. “Think it’ll be enough to get us through the evening?”

He put his own drink aside, and when he smiled up at me, it warmed me more than the booze ever would. He slid his hands up my chest. “I think what’s going to get me through the evening is thinking about all the dirty things I plan to do to you when we get home.”

The shiver that ran through me was anything but subtle, and it brought a wicked grin to his lips.

I pulled him closer and kissed him lightly. “Keep talking like that, we might not get to the party at all.”

“So if I told you I wanted to rip off your pants and—”

I kissed him to shut him up. He was obviously trying not to laugh, which in turn made me laugh, so I just pressed my forehead to his and sighed. “You’re making it very tempting to blow off the party and stay home.”

“I know. That’s the idea.”

“Uh-huh. Nice try.”

He laced his fingers behind my neck. “We still have to go, don’t we?”

“We still have to go.”

“Even if skipping it means having the kind of crazy sex that’s probably illegal in a few states?”

I smoothed his hair and kissed him again. “As hot as that would be . . . No.”

“You suck.”

“So I’ve been told.” I tipped his chin up and went in for a long, gentle kiss that made me seriously reconsider my stance on the party.

About the time I was on the verge of changing my mind, Darren drew back and sighed. “Okay. We’d better get rolling. My mom is probably already trying to knock the restaurant’s doors down so she can decorate.”

I laughed again. “Good idea. Let’s go.”

The restaurant Jessica and Darren had picked out for the engagement party was, I had to admit, impressive as hell. The main dining area downstairs was nothing to write home about, but the room upstairs was gorgeous. It reminded me of something out of a European palace—high ceilings, wide pillars along the walls, enormous paintings and windows flanked by heavy red curtains. Soft classical music played in the background, and it soothed my nerves.

As I watched Jessica, Darren, and the wedding planner fret over table settings, music choices, and how dim the lights should be, it was hard to believe this was just the engagement party. Christ. Would we have to top this for our actual wedding? It all seemed kind of redundant to me, but our respective mothers had insisted.

And I supposed it didn’t hurt to have a dry run of our families and friends in the same room, just to see if there were any factions that needed to be kept apart at the real thing. This was how Marcy and I had discovered that my sister-in-law and my ex-girlfriend couldn’t be within ten feet of each other. After the almost-fistfight at our engagement party, we’d very carefully seated them on opposite sides of the room at the reception, and there hadn’t been any drama. It was also how we’d figured out that perhaps it would be wise to ask the bartenders to be “out” of tequila at the reception. The less said about that, the better, and hell, it was probably just as well my brother and his wife hadn’t been able to make it to this. I didn’t need any conflict.

“Brings back memories, doesn’t it?” My ex-wife’s voice spun me around.

“Marcy. Jesus.” I laughed. “Way to give a man a heart attack right before he gets married.”

She smirked. “Eh, it’s still far enough ahead of the date for Darren to get the deposits refunded.”

“Bitch.”

“Asshole.”

We both laughed, and I hugged her tight. “Thanks for coming. It’s great to see you.”

“You too.” She gave me a squeeze, then let go and met my gaze, smiling. “And I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”

“You do know my mother is coming, right?”

Marcy wrinkled her nose and rolled her eyes, but then that smirk came back to life. “Fortunately, she’s not my problem anymore.” Nodding in Darren’s direction, she added, “I’m just here to pass the torch.”

I chuckled. “Just don’t tell him what he’s getting himself into, all right? I don’t need a runaway groom.”

Marcy’s eyebrows climbed her forehead. “He’s met her, hasn’t he?”

“Briefly. We had dinner with my parents last night.”

She watched Darren for a moment, then gave a slow nod. “He’s still here, so that’s promising.”

“She was behaving last night,” I muttered.

“Of course she was.” Marcy laughed. “She’ll wait till the first or second Christmas to really let the flying monkeys go.”

I chuckled. The Wicked Witch of the West comparisons had annoyed me when Marcy and I had still been married, but they were funny now. Sort of. “Just don’t tell Darren that last night counted as her behaving. I swear he sprouted a few extra gray hairs before dessert.”

Marcy nodded solemnly. “I won’t tell.” She paused. “Darren’s lucky, though.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“He’ll never have to experience a baby shower with her.”

I burst out laughing. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Because you didn’t have to experience it either.” She rolled her eyes again. Our oldest was almost twenty-five, and I doubted Marcy would ever forgive my mother for the nonstop bitching and badgering at the baby shower. Marcy wasn’t terribly emotional, not even when she’d been drowning in hormones, but she’d come home from that stupid party in tears, and I’d known it had nothing to do with hormones the instant she mentioned my mother. Once she’d collected herself, she’d warned me—threatening life, limb, and the body parts I’d used to get her pregnant in the first place—about my mother knowing when she went into labor.

“That woman comes within five miles of the hospital,” she’d snarled, “and there will be blood, Andreas. Blood.”

Ben had been almost a year old before my mother forgave me for not telling her he’d arrived until after he and Marcy had come home. Worth it.

People were starting to arrive, so Marcy and I shared another brief hug before I went to greet guests with Darren. Before too long, he and I had wound our way through the room and I was once again chatting with my ex-wife, this time with her husband and my fiancé. The guys hadn’t met before tonight, and they hit it off right away, going on about Game of Thrones while Marcy and I quietly sipped our wine. Every so often, she and I exchanged smiles. I wondered if she was as relieved as I was that our partners got along. We had worked hard to maintain a good relationship, and this made it a hell of a lot easier.

As we stood there, I knew the moment my mother walked into the room. My back was to the door, but my ex-wife’s eyes darted in that direction, and no one else on the planet could prompt her to mouth, Oh fuck, before taking a deep swallow of wine.

Phil stiffened, watching his wife uneasily.

Darren’s eyes darted back and forth between Marcy and me. “What?”

I sighed. “Awkward moment in three . . . two . . .” I turned right as my mother appeared beside me. “Hi, Mom.” I smiled despite my apprehension and hugged her.

She hugged me stiffly like she always did, and as she let me go, she turned to Darren. Looking him up and down, pausing only briefly on his black eye, she offered a tight smile. Then she peered at me and gave me a similar down-up. “You two are wearing tuxedos at your wedding, aren’t you?” Her tone made the underlying message abundantly clear—Please tell me you aren’t wearing this shit.

Darren shifted self-consciously, looking down at his suit and smoothing the jacket as if he were trying to figure out what was wrong with it.

I cleared my throat and gestured past her. “Mom, you remember Marcy.”

Marcy shot me a venomous glare, but quickly schooled her expression to something more neutral as my mother turned to her. They held each other’s gazes, bringing the temperature in the room down about twenty degrees.

My mother lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes. “Marcella.”

“Louise.” Marcy’s voice was cool, but that note of hostility was only detectable if you knew what to listen for. I sure as hell did. Judging by the way Mom’s lips tightened, she did too. Marcy eyed me again, then gestured at Phil. “Louise, I’d like you to meet my husband, Phil.”

The air turned even colder. Phil and my mother shook hands, but there was hardly any warmth in the greeting. While they did that, Marcy met my gaze, brow pinched and eyes wide, the unspoken question coming through loud and clear—Can I bow the fuck out of this conversation?

I nodded as subtly as I could.

Marcy barely kept her relief under the surface as she slid a hand around her husband’s elbow. “Well, we’re going to go mingle a little.” And with that, they were gone.

My mother watched them go before shifting her narrow-eyed gaze to me. “I wasn’t expecting to see her.”

I gritted my teeth. “Why wouldn’t I invite her?”

She glared at me like the answer should have been obvious. “Did you invite her to the wedding?”

“Of course.”

And there it was—the long-suffering sigh of disapproval. “It’s inappropriate to bring your ex-wife to your wedding, Andreas.”

I didn’t bother fighting the urge to roll my eyes. “She’s the mother of my kids. She’ll be there, and so will Lisa.”

Mom’s nose wrinkled at the mention of my ex-girlfriend.

“Mom,” I warned.

She huffed but didn’t push. “Well, I’m going to go find your father.” She looked around. “Where did he wander off to?”

“I think he’s over by the bar,” Darren offered, voice soft and uncertain.

She craned her neck, then pursed her lips. With a curt nod to us, she left.

Darren exhaled, deflating. I hadn’t realized how tense he’d been until he relaxed.

Resting my hand on the small of his back, I kissed his cheek. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.” He looked down at himself. “Is there something wrong with my suit?”

I nuzzled the side of his face. “Only that it’s not rumpled on our bedroom floor.”

That brought him back to life, and he leaned into me, wrapping his arm around my waist. “Hey, I told you we could’ve skipped the party and done dirty things instead, but nooo . . .”

“Shut up.” I chuckled and kissed his cheek again. “I’ll make it up to you when we get home.”

“Damn right you will,” he said in a playful growl. “So, should we keep mingling before I drag you into the coat closet?”

I hesitated, weighing the options.

Darren gave me a nudge. “Come on, you.”

We wandered the party, getting hugged and congratulated by dozens of people in turn. I had no idea how the guest list had gotten this big, but somehow there must’ve been at least a hundred people here. Mostly other cops and some friends, but also some family. My parents had flown in, and my kids and ex-wife had taken the train, but the rest of the guests were local. Last I’d heard, the guest list for the wedding was even bigger, with people coming in from God knew where. Because that thought wasn’t overwhelming as fuck, especially when I was standing in a room that already seemed claustrophobic and crowded with fewer people than would be at the big event.

I shrugged away the tension and reminded myself I could handle one night of being social. These people were all here because they loved and supported us. That or they’d heard about the open bar. Either way, the least I could do was not be my usual antisocial self.

Darren and I ended up wandering off in different directions. I wasn’t even sure when it had happened, only that I looked around at one point and realized we were on opposite sides of the room. Presumably, some group conversation had broken off into two separate ones, and we’d lost track of each other.

I was okay with that, though. We didn’t need to be hanging off each other’s arms all night. I would’ve liked to, of course—I nearly always preferred being with Darren—but we weren’t joined at the hip.

On my way to the bar for a bottle of water, I ran into Erin.

“Hey, kiddo.” I smiled. “How are you going?”

“Okay.” She smiled back, but it wavered a little. “Trying to run interference when Grandma starts being . . . Grandma.”

I groaned. “Tell me she isn’t going too crazy.”

“She was on her third cosmopolitan last I saw her, so . . .”

“Oh God.”

Erin laughed half-heartedly, and for the first time, I realized how tired she seemed. No. Not tired. Just . . . not here. Like her heart wasn’t in it and her mind was a million miles away.

“Hey.” I touched her shoulder. “Everything okay?”

Dropping her gaze, she nodded. “Yeah.”

Yeah, bullshit. “How are things with Zach?”

She scowled, eyes flicking toward her boyfriend, who was at a table entertaining Emily. Then her expression softened, and she waved a hand. “We’ll be okay. It’s just . . . you know, a rough patch. We’re working on it.” She smiled. “Just growing pains. That’s all.”

Well, that was a relief. “Good. Glad to hear it.” I hoped they worked it out. And if they couldn’t, I hoped they were both smart enough to walk away before they wasted too much time and energy trying to stay together. Marcy and I had tried to instill that in the kids when we’d split up—that it was better to let things go rather than force it until you hated each other.

We chatted for a few minutes, and then I continued toward the bar for that water while she joined Zach and Emily. A glance around confirmed what she’d mentioned about my mother. The cosmopolitan in her hand was nearly empty, but had enough liquid to slosh over the rim when she made a sharp gesture.

I swore under my breath. Just what I needed. We butted heads when she was sober. When she was drunk? Fuck my life.

I got my water and started heading toward her, but crossing the room with any kind of goal in mind was easier said than done. Every time I turned around, there was someone new wanting to offer congratulations and talk to me. It was overwhelming. Usually I didn’t have to worry about people approaching me constantly—they sure as hell didn’t at work—but tonight, it was one after another.

So, I gave up on trying to cut off my mother. My dad was with her, and he’d only put up with her antics for so long before quietly putting his foot down. They were adults. They could handle themselves.

Ironically, as I continued through the crowd, the one person I wanted to get near—and couldn’t—was my fiancé. I was being bombarded with people, to the point my skin was crawling and I desperately needed to escape the mob of friends and family, but at the same time, I wanted to be close to him. Without him, I was alone in a crowded room, overwhelmed by voices and faces and one hug after another when all I wanted was Darren.

I finally had a moment to myself, and I searched for Darren again. When I found him, though, my heart sank. He was by the bar, rubbing his face—and carefully avoiding his black eye—as he cradled a mostly empty wineglass in his other hand. His shoulders were heavy under his unbuttoned jacket. Fatigue radiated off him.

I started toward him, but a couple of colleagues headed me off. Before I could gracefully exit that conversation, someone descended on Darren. He was visibly trying to hide his exhaustion, smiling while he talked, but I could tell he was worn down. Darren was hardly a wallflower, and he didn’t have a shy bone in his body, but the constant socializing tonight was clearly taking a toll on him.

And this is just the engagement party. How the hell are either of us going to get through the wedding and reception without collapsing?

That thought made my own exhaustion even heavier. I was looking forward to being married to Darren. More and more, I wasn’t sure I was looking forward to the getting married part. The credit card balances would probably be the least painful part of the entire thing, and that was saying something.

My future mother-in-law appeared next to me. “How are you doing, sweetheart? You look tired.”

There was no point in trying to convince Jessica Corliss that I wasn’t, so I just nodded. “Yeah. It’s been a crazy night.”

Sympathy creased her brow. “Well, at least you’ll both have a couple of days off from work before the wedding and rehearsal.”

Rehearsal. Christ. There was another step, wasn’t there?

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “At this rate, we’ll probably cancel our honeymoon trip and just stay home and sleep.”

She laughed softly. “Getting married isn’t for the faint of heart, is it?”

“No, ma’am.”

She studied me for a moment. “Honey, tell me something truthfully.”

Uh-oh. I raised my eyebrows, but said nothing.

Jessica tilted her head. “The wedding we’ve been planning—is that going to be too much?”

“No, we can afford it.”

“No, I mean . . . too much. For you.” She gestured at the throngs of people. “It’s going to be much bigger and crazier than this.”

I almost let a groan slip out, but caught myself. I knew how much this wedding meant to Jessica. “It’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

No. Not even a little.

I nodded.

“Okay. Well.” Jessica squeezed my arm. “Just remember your wedding is about the two of you. Don’t let anyone else make it about them.”

I nodded again, forcing a smile. “I know. Thanks.”

She went off to mingle some more, leaving me with my half-empty water bottle. I searched the room for Darren again. I found him, but he had his back to me, and seemed to be lost in conversation with some friends. He still looked tired, but was holding himself straight and speaking as animatedly as he usually did, so I hoped that meant he was doing all right. And as much as I wanted to go to him, the thought of being introduced to anyone else right now made my stomach twist. I needed a moment to catch my breath.

The restaurant had a patio outside, and there’d been a light rain earlier, so no one was out there. Perfect. It was cool and quiet, and it was only when I stepped out here that I realized how loud the party had become. Over the last couple of hours, the murmur of conversation had become a roar, drowning out the music and leaving my ears ringing.

I put my water bottle aside, rested my hands on the damp concrete railing, closed my eyes, and exhaled into the cool night.

This was supposed to be a party. One to celebrate my engagement to the most amazing man I’d ever met. So why the hell did I feel like shit?

Well, that was easy to answer. My mother had been striking sparks off everyone from my ex-wife to my future mother-in-law even before she’d started hitting the bar. Darren was so stressed I swore I could see his hair turning gray. Erin was exhausted from the tension with her boyfriend and running interference between Grandma and . . . well, everyone.

And me? I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been fraying like this. Okay, maybe that wasn’t accurate. It was a familiar feeling, but usually it had to do with a case. With racing the clock to stop someone from getting away with a crime or committing another one. Our job brought with it a certain level of anxiety, and I accepted that.

What I struggled to accept was feeling the same way about my wedding as I did about chasing down a bloodthirsty murderer before he killed someone else.

The stress had been kind of amusing early on, but the novelty had worn off. Seeing Darren tearing his hair out over wedding details had been cute in the beginning. Now, it just made me feel guilty. Guilty, and like it was only a matter of time before he started resenting me for asking him to marry me in the first place. For putting him in the crosshairs of my impossible-to-please mother who could—and would—always find something to criticize. I wasn’t an easy person to live with. Who was I to ask Darren to go through all this shit just for the dubious honor of being married to me?

The distinct click-tap of dress shoes behind me raised the hairs on my neck. I gritted my teeth. God. Now what?

“There you are.”

All the air rushed out of my lungs. I couldn’t say Darren’s voice broke the tension in my neck and shoulders and mind. Rather, he spoke, and the tension was just . . . gone. Like it had never been there at all.

Smiling, I turned around. For a second, there was only a silhouette. He was backlit by the restaurant’s warm light, and with one more step, he slipped out of the shadows and into view. Concern was etched all over his tired face. “You okay?”

I cupped his face. “I am now.” And I kissed him. It went on for a while, but it wasn’t the kind of kiss that would have us dragging each other someplace private for a quickie. Just a long, gentle kiss that reminded me why we were subjecting ourselves to all of this stress in the first place—because we loved each other. Because we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together. Because nothing—not wild horses and not my mother’s presence—could make me think twice about going through whatever was necessary to be Darren’s husband.

I broke the kiss and touched my forehead to his, basking in this peaceful moment with him—with only him—before we had to go back to the party.

I stared into his eyes. Up close, the exhaustion in his face and his posture were undeniable, and I knew damn well it wasn’t just because we’d been working ourselves into the ground lately. As haggard as he was these days, and especially with that shiner still darkening one side of his face, he was eerily reminiscent of how he’d looked while recovering from his stab wounds.

I shuddered.

“Cold?” he asked.

“No. Just thinking.”

“What about?”

I studied him again, wondering how much to reveal. Part of me wanted to suggest we blow off this party and go someplace we could be alone. Tempting, but . . . we couldn’t do that.

So I just clasped his hands in both of mine and kissed his fingers. “I love you, Darren.”

“I love you too.” He pulled me in close and nuzzled my neck. “I guess we should get back to our adoring fans.”

Closing my eyes, I pressed a kiss to the top of his head. I would have liked to stay out here all night with him and the cool air, but he was right. “Yeah. We should.”

He didn’t move, though. Neither did I.

After a moment, he lifted his head and kissed under my jaw. “They won’t miss us if we stay out here another minute or two, will they?”

“No, I don’t—”

“There you guys are!” The wedding planner burst out onto the patio, grinning. “Come on back inside. We’ve got a few people who want to make toasts.”

I’d been pretty good all night about not groaning out loud, but I failed this time.

Darren laughed. “Come on. We can do this.” He drew back, leaving my body cool where he’d been pressed against me, and took my hand. “Let’s go.”

As much as I wanted to stay out here, the little smile on his lips and the way his thumb ran alongside mine . . . Oh hell. I couldn’t say no.

“Okay.” I squeezed his hand. “Let’s go.”

The simple fact that I woke up the next morning before the alarm went off, with a headache but no dry mouth, told me I hadn’t consumed nearly enough alcohol last night. My mom had gotten one thing right: I wouldn’t have wanted to wait to meet Andreas’s parents until just before the wedding. But honestly, there came a point where it was easier to run away and talk to other people than to endure one more steely-eyed glare from over the edge of a martini glass.

What was her problem with me? Other than the fact that I was younger than her son by over a decade and the wrong gender to give her any more grandchildren, at least. From what Marcy had said, Louise hadn’t been all that excited about any of her and Andreas’s kids until they’d actually arrived, calling the pair of them “too young to be good parents.” And that didn’t even count how she felt about Emily arriving out of wedlock, although it was clear she loved her now.

Well. Whatever. One more event to get through with them, and then we could kiss my future in-laws goodbye for a few months. All we had to do now was go to brunch, after which Andreas’s mother would head to the airport and fly away. Possibly on a broomstick.

Be nice, I reminded myself as I headed for the shower. Andreas was still sleeping, and seeing as how he’d taken the brunt of his mother’s disapproval last night, I wasn’t about to wake him any earlier than I had to. Even though I would have loved to drag him into the shower with me, finger him until he came, and then put him on his knees so he could suck me off.

Fuck. Why wasn’t I doing that again?

Because you’re a damn adult who knows how to prioritize, I reminded myself as I turned on the water and stepped under the spray. I was hard—just thinking about what I wanted to do with Andreas always got me hard—but I could handle it. He needed the sleep more than I needed his hot, wet mouth around my dick, taking me all the way to the back of his throat while he looked up at me with those sinful blue eyes . . .

“Shit,” I muttered, and grabbed the shampoo. This would be fast and dirty.

Or not. By the time I was done, the water was going cold. Fine. Not so fast in the end, but worth it. I dried off and got back to the bedroom in time to see Andreas stirring under the covers. I took a running jump at the bed and landed just behind him, bouncing so hard that he actually rose off the mattress for a second.

“Jesus Christ,” Andreas groaned, rolling over to face me. “What are you, five?”

“Nope!” I popped the p as I bounced a little more. “Just happy you’re awake! Although . . . wait a little bit to shower, okay? The hot water heater needs to refill.”

“What took you so long in there?”

I arched one eyebrow. “What do you think?”

Andreas looked put out. I swear, if he were a little less rugged, I would have called his expression a pout. “And you didn’t ask me to join you?”

“I figured getting your beauty rest was more important than morning nookie this time.”

“You figured wrong.”

“Yeah? You want to face your mom on less than eight hours of sleep?”

He groaned again and pushed his face back into the pillow. “Fuck, brunch.”

“Yeah, I wish we could just fuck brunch, but my mom’s really looking forward to it.” Because naturally, it was her idea. We were meeting at her house at eleven: all the kids, Louise and Joe, Mom and Vic, and the two of us. Mom had been baking since Friday.

“It’ll be fun!” she’d said when selling us on it. “A little family bonding experience, something more personal than the engagement party.” And we’d said yes, because my mother has epic persuasion game, but after last night, I couldn’t think of many things I’d rather not do than go face-to-face with Andreas’s mother for a few hours. Maybe rolling in a pile of fire ants.

Andreas sighed. “I know she is. Although I honestly think that . . .” He trailed off for a moment.

“Think what?”

“Oh, nothing. Just . . . I think Jessica might be a little more comfortable with the idea of us keeping our distance, after last night.”

I frowned. “Why? Did something happen?”

“No, not really. I just think she understands that we’re not really party people. That there’s such a thing as too much, you know?”

He’d articulated exactly what I was feeling. I flopped down next to him on the bed and pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes. “I knooow. Oh my God, I can barely believe that we have to do all of this again. And again.” The rehearsal dinner, then the wedding reception . . . the only thing I was really looking forward to at this point was the actual ceremony, and getting to say, I do. I wanted Andreas as my husband. I wanted the formality of that, the gravity, the legality. I was more and more exhausted by everything else that went with it, though.

“But it’ll be fine.” Because it had to be fine. Otherwise I’d rip my eyelashes out. “We’ll get through all of it, and everyone will be happy, and then we’ll be married. Worth it.”

“Yeah.” He took a deep breath, then rolled over and just . . . looked at me for a moment. Longer than a moment. I almost wanted to crack a joke, except his expression was something I’d never quite seen before: open and vulnerable and a little pained, like his emotions were bleeding out of him. “Yeah, it’s worth it.”

When he kissed me, it was sweet and soft and tender, the sort of kiss I never even knew I wanted until I had it, and then I couldn’t get enough. I followed him when he pulled back, wanting to keep it, prolong it. I cupped his jaw with my hand, the stubble rough against my fingertips, and pulled him down again until we were flush, the covers a flimsy barrier. Maybe we could—

The alarm went off. Andreas reached over and slapped at it, but only managed to knock it off the nightstand. “Goddamn it,” he growled against my mouth, and I chuckled. We both straightened up, and I resisted the urge to tug down the back of his pajama bottoms as he stretched to grab the clock.

“We still have to pick up Emily,” I reminded him when he looked like he was considering lunging at me. Erin was going to bring her brothers, but Emily was our responsibility. “And get dressed, and you have to shower.”

“Easy for the guy who’s already gotten off to say.”

“The early bird spanks the monkey.” I laughed as he hit me with his pillow. “Seriously, though, we have to get moving.”

“Yeah, I know.” He stood and headed for the bathroom. I watched him go, then took a bracing breath. Brunch, and then we’d be back to our regular lives, plus the fuss of all the wedding planning. We could do it.

I might have escaped a hangover, but by the time we all met up at my parents’ house, it was pretty clear that Louise had not. She kept her sunglasses on even though the brunch was inside, and the speed with which she went for a mimosa once my mother poured the champagne made me wonder how she kept it all in the glass. She also seemed to suppress a wince every time Emily’s voice rose into the higher registers, but to her credit, she didn’t say anything to Emily about it. No, she held back all of her complaints for the rest of us, including the older kids.

“Look how short your dress is!” she exclaimed as Erin walked through the door. “How are you even going to sit down in that?”

“Carefully,” Erin replied. She gave her grandparents a brief kiss on the cheek, then hugged the stuffing out of my mom and Vic. “Thanks for having us all over.”

“Oh honey, you know I love it when you come to visit,” my mother assured her. “Do you want a mimosa?”

“I’d love one.”

The boys agreed, and they all took a glass from the tray.

“Who’s the designated driver?” Louise asked.

Erin rolled her eyes. “Grandma, one mimosa isn’t going to put me over the limit.”

“It’s a bad habit to get into, though. And one of the boys should be driving anyway.”

“It’s my car, and I live here,” Erin argued. “I know my way around best.”

Louise shook her head. “But both Ben and Casey have better driving records than you do, dear. Don’t you remember totaling your mother’s car when you were seventeen?”

Erin’s lips thinned. “That was an accident, and it had nothing to do with drinking!”

“Yes, but. Still.”

My mom did what I’d been trying to figure out how to do, and stepped in. “Let’s fill some plates! It’s very informal today, so just take what you want and find a seat anywhere. Ben, I made those cinnamon rolls you like so much.”

Ben’s face brightened. He’d spent a few days with my parents during the kidnapping debacle, and apparently that was long enough for my mom to suss out his favorites. “Thanks, Jessica.”

“You’re welcome, honey.”

That wasn’t the end of it, though. You’d think having a plate full of food on her lap would necessitate Louise shutting her mouth, at least to chew, but she took one bite of my mom’s breakfast enchiladas and made a moue of disgust. “My goodness, these are overflowing with cheese. How many calories are in this?”

My mom blinked. “Oh, I . . . I have no idea.”

“It’s far too heavy to eat something like this so early in the day. And all these sweets! I’d think you’d take a little more care with your cooking, given your husband’s obvious health issues.”

“Mom,” Andreas said warningly.

“It’s not as though it’s a secret,” she argued. “Mr. Corliss is clearly overweight.”

Vic shrugged. “Always have been, no matter how I eat. I get plenty of exercise these days, Louise. Don’t worry about me.”

“Oh, I wasn’t.”

It wasn’t so much what she said but the way she said it, her tone so dismissive it bordered on outright rudeness. I felt my hand start to clench around my fork, and forced myself to relax. “I think it all tastes great, Mom. Thanks for cooking.”

My mother tried to smile. “It was my pleasure, sweetheart, you know that. Emily, do you like it?”

Emily nodded enthusiastically. “It’s so good,” she said before taking a mouthful of pancake. “’Ank oo, ’Effica.”

“Swallow before you speak,” Louise snapped. “Good grief, Emily, isn’t your mother teaching you any manners at all? And you don’t call adults by their first name.”

“I told her it was okay.” My mother had her placating tone of voice on, which made me kind of angry. She had no reason to be bending over backward when it was clear that Louise was going to bitch no matter what, but then again—that was my mom. “Once Andreas and Darren are married, I can be Grandma instead.”

“She already has a grandmother.” You could have frosted a beer mug with Louise’s voice. “Just like she already has a father.”

“Mom.” Andreas sounded on the verge of yelling, but he was clearly holding it back for the kids’ sake. “You need to be quiet for a while.”

“Since when did you get so defensive?”

“Starting now.”

Astonishingly, it worked. The rest of the meal passed in relative silence, but at least it was better than sniping. We talked a little about grad school for Casey, about Ben’s plans to spend a semester in Spain next year, and about Emily in kindergarten. It wasn’t until my mom and Vic started clearing plates that the truce was broken.

“Erin, you should help with that.”

“Why?” Erin demanded. “Because I’m a girl and helping in the kitchen is what girls do?”

Louise shrugged. “Partially. You might pick up some hints about cooking too. It’s going to be hard to keep that doctor of yours if you don’t know how to take care of a home.”

Erin went so red in the face that I thought she’d burst. Ben, who tended to play the peacemaker, offered to help instead.

“No, no, we invited you, you all sit and relax,” my mother replied, waving him down. “Really, it’s no trouble at all.”

“Hmm.” Louise sipped at her third mimosa. “I suppose I understand what Andreas sees in someone like Darren, if he learned a little about pleasing people from you.” Behind her, Joe rolled his eyes, but he didn’t say anything and didn’t stop her when she continued. “God knows his first wife was useless in the kitchen, and I don’t know if Emily’s mother ever steps out of her drugged haze long enough to—”

“That’s it.” I was a little astonished to realize that I was the one speaking. I’d fucking had enough, though. “Erin, please take Emily to the swings in the backyard. Vic, if you could—”

“I got it,” he said. “Ben, Casey, let’s head to the garage.” He grinned. “I’ll show you my gun collection.”

“Mom, you don’t need to stick around for this,” I told her, but she didn’t move from the kitchen door.

“For what?” Louise sounded disgruntled, and Joe was starting to look like he regretted keeping his silence for so long, but I didn’t give a flying fuck what bothered him at this point. As soon as the kids were gone, I let loose.

“I didn’t expect a lot from either of you, given that in all the time I’ve known Andreas, I never once heard him talk about his parents, but you really take the fucking cake in person.”

“Oh, please.” Louise removed her sunglasses and rolled her eyes. “You haven’t even known him a year, so what could that possibly tell you?”

“It tells me that when he was hurt, he didn’t want to talk to you. It tells me that when his children were missing, he didn’t want to include you. It tells me that he had a really good reason for that too, because you seem to be pathologically incapable of not tearing people down!”

“Darren.” Andreas reached for my hand, but I shook him off. I was too angry to be soothed right now.

“No, she needs to hear this!” I focused on Louise, whose back had gone as straight as a board. “Your own family finds you intolerable, and I totally see why. You treat your son like dirt, you talk to your grandkids like they’re all five years old and you don’t recognize their accomplishments, and you have the worst fucking manners of anyone I’ve ever met, and that includes the guy who stabbed me! You don’t get to treat my family like they’ve been anything other than massively accommodating of your bullshit and expect to keep getting away with it.”

“Well.” Louise got to her feet. In her heels, she was about my height, and the way she glared at me, I could tell that some part of her was trying to kill me with her mind. “If that’s the way you feel, then I don’t think Joe and I need to bother attending this farce of a wedding.”

“I don’t think you’ll be attending either, because you’re not fucking invited!”

It took a moment for me to register the fact that I’d just barred my future in-laws from my wedding to their son. And I’d done it without even talking to Andreas first. Anger slowly gave way to a rising sense of nausea. “Excuse me,” I muttered, and headed for my old room without a backward glance. I shut the door behind me, leaned my back against it, and started to shake.

Shit. Oh my God, what had I done? I’d screwed everything up. Maybe Louise was just drunk, maybe she was apologizing right now, maybe the fact that she was Andreas’s mother should have been enough to keep me from running my mouth right off a cliff, but nooo. I didn’t get angry often, but when I did, I was a complete asshole.

Case in fucking point.

Someone tried the door, but with my weight against it, it didn’t budge. A quiet knock followed, and I collected myself enough to stand up and open it. It was Andreas.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted before he could say anything. “I’m sorry, that was so out of line.”

“Darren.” He took my hand, and this time I let him, and he led me over to the bed. We sat down, and it was a minor relief to be off my feet. “I’m not upset.”

Now that was an even bigger relief. But . . . “Really? Because I basically just told both your parents to fuck off and mind their own business.”

“You didn’t say anything I wasn’t thinking. I’m just sorry you had to be the one to speak up first. And you’re right about not having them at the wedding. In fact . . .” He studied my face for a moment, then said, “We should elope.”

I laughed, probably sounding a little maniacal, but I couldn’t help myself. “It would be nice, wouldn’t it? Then we could tell everyone to fuck off, so your folks wouldn’t feel singled out.”

“I’m serious.”

I checked his face and— Oh. Wow. I hadn’t seen this coming. “You are?”

“Yes.” He shook his head. “Getting married shouldn’t be this stressful, even without my parents being dicks. It’s driving us both into the ground, and it’s only going to get worse. Trust me. We’ll be ass out on a few deposits. But . . .” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Just say the word, Darren. All I want is to be with you. I don’t care about the party, or the flower arrangements, or—”

“What about the kids?”

He chewed his lip. “Shit . . . if there was some way to include Emily, then—”

This was really serious for him. It felt like the sun was coming out from behind the clouds in my head. I moved a little closer to him. “What if we just have my parents there with Erin and Emily? And the boys if they can make it?”

“That could work.” His expression brightened a little. “You’d be on board?”

“Sure. Yeah.” I smiled. “With all the money we’ll save by canceling this shit, there’s no reason we can’t buy four extra plane tickets.” I paused and added, “Zach can buy his own if he and Erin are speaking by then.”

“Plane . . .” He blinked. “Plane tickets?”

“Well, yeah.” I slid my hands up his back and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. I felt a thousand pounds lighter. “If we’re going to elope, we should at least do it in style.”

It took a second for the pieces to fall together, but when they did, he laughed. “You want to go to Vegas, don’t you?” I nodded enthusiastically, and he kissed my forehead. “You know I can’t say no to that look.”

“I know.” I batted my eyes. “That’s the idea.”

“Of course it is.”

“So, Vegas?”

“Yes. Vegas.”

Even if it upset my parents, I just couldn’t—

“Oh, thank goodness!”

We both turned to see my mom in the doorway, one hand pressed to her chest, the other on her forehead. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to listen in. I was just coming to make sure everything was all right, and I heard you mention Vegas, and I just— I’m so relieved!”

Now I was confused again. “But I thought you wanted us to have a traditional wedding.”

She shook her head. “And that was so selfish of me, to try and make you do something that you didn’t want to. I’m sorry, sweetheart. An elopement is perfect. And if I can help with anything at all, or if you want me to just butt out, that’s fine too. I just want you both to be happy.”

“We were hoping you’d come to Vegas with us and the girls,” Andreas said, and my mom grinned.

“Of course! We can take Emily home while you two honeymoon.” She came over and kissed us both on the cheek, then put a hand on Andreas’s shoulder and looked into his eyes. “I only have one last request.”

“What’s that?” he asked her.

“You don’t invite your mother back to visit for at least a year. Seriously, honey, what a bitch.”

The chapel was about as Vegas as it could be. The neon sign outside must’ve been visible from space, and the interior looked like the drug store’s post-Valentine’s Day clearance section had exploded all over it. Red hearts, red roses, red neon images of couples—straight, of course—kissing. The officiant wore a white sequined suit and had his graying blond hair done up like a half-assed homage to Elvis. It was all blindingly tacky, and my mother would have had a fit if she’d seen it, so I decided it was perfect.

It was a relief to be out of the sweltering desert heat too. The place was as air-conditioned as the casinos, bordering on too chilly, so it had been a good idea to wear our tuxes after all. Erin and Emily were wearing matching blue dresses with thin straps, and I thought they’d be cold, but they seemed comfortable enough. If they got cold, there were plenty of jackets among Zach, Vic, Darren, and me. We’d manage. And I had to admit, it would be cute as hell for Emily to go through the wedding with my black tuxedo jacket draped over her tiny shoulders.

A woman around Jessica’s age was signing in couples—we were apparently not the only ones with this idea—and as soon as we got close to the heart-festooned desk, she looked at Erin and Zach. “Can I get your names, sweetheart?”

Erin jumped when she realized the woman was asking her. “Oh. No, no. We’re not getting married. I mean . . . not today.”

“Not today?” Zach and I asked in unison.

She glanced at each of us and shrugged. “Not today, and maybe not to each other.” There was no venom in the comment, and her eyes sparkled with mischief.

Zach laughed, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “That’s cold, baby.” Erin just batted her eyes, and he chuckled before kissing her cheek. Yeah, they’d be all right.

Then Erin turned back to the woman at the counter. “Anyway, my dad’s the one getting married.” She pointed at me.

The woman looked my way. “All right. And where is your lovely fiancée?”

Darren shyly raised a hand.

“Oh my!” She grinned, winking at me. “You snagged yourself a looker, didn’t you?”

I laughed, and Darren blushed as bright as all the hearts decorating the chapel. Wrapping an arm around him, I kissed his cheek. “She’s right, you know.”

“Hey, I got a looker too.” He gazed up at me with the sweetest smile, and for as cynical and antiromantic as I could be, damn if he didn’t make my heart do funny things.

After we signed in, we sat down in the chapel where another couple was about to get married. There wasn’t a hell of a lot else to do unless we wanted to go back out into the blazing desert, so why not?

Vic and Jessica sat next to us, hands joined as they smiled up at the other couple. Behind us, Emily played quietly on Erin’s phone, and the whispering going back and forth between Zach and Erin made me smile. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but whatever had been causing them problems recently seemed, at least for the time being, smoothed over. Hopefully they wouldn’t get into the spirit of things and get married—not until they’d had some time to be on an even keel again—but I was glad the tension had eased between them.

The couple in the front of the chapel read through the vows they’d written, voices unsteady but words sincere and heartfelt. It was all I could do not to groan. My vows would not be so great. I’d been struggling with them for a while now, even emailing back and forth with Erin, Jessica, Lisa, Marcy, and Paula for advice, and I still wasn’t happy with them. Darren had his heart set on this whole writing-our-own-vows thing, and I wasn’t about to veto it, but . . . I hoped his expectations were low. I was a lot of things, but poetic and eloquent were not among them. I supposed he knew me well enough to realize that.

The next couple was much younger than either of us. They appeared sober, which might’ve meant they were too young to drink. Hell, I’d have been surprised if either of them were older than nineteen.

And I couldn’t take my eyes off them.

As I watched the two kids go through the motions, it was hard not to see myself standing up there. Not in this chapel with Darren like I would be soon, but in a stuffy church twenty-some-odd years ago. Back when I’d been around their age. When I’d married Marcy. It wasn’t something I looked back on like this very often. I remembered it clearly enough, and I’d certainly thought about it a lot in the last several weeks, but it felt different now. Like instead of just remembering the ceremony as it had happened, I was sitting in a pew in that church, gazing up at my young, idealistic self, madly in love with the girl I’d lost my virginity to in high school.

I hadn’t had a clue back then. The commitment I’d been making had been a romantic, abstract thing. Something that had seemed easy at the time because I loved her, she loved me, and what else did we need? We didn’t know what we were getting into because we didn’t even know ourselves yet. I’d had no idea what it meant to be a husband. A father. A cop. A man. It was hard to remember ever being that way, though sometimes I saw hints of it in Darren.

He was older than I’d been when I’d married the first time. To a degree, he was still young and idealistic, but he was grounded in reality too. He’d been through things men twice his age couldn’t imagine. Losing his brother. His own brush with death. Facing the possibility of a deadly disease. Through it all, somehow, he’d never forgotten how to smile. He was still playful and adorable, still optimistic and spontaneous. People had worried my cynicism would rub off on him, but I was starting to think the opposite was true.

The officiant declared the young couple married, and after an eager kiss, they practically sprinted up the aisle, probably ready to make a beeline for the nearest hotel.

We retreated to the small lobby. Our turn was coming up, and we needed to make sure everyone was ready while the next couple married ahead of us.

As Erin and Jessica fussed over Emily’s dress, I caught myself staring at my fiancé again.

He had his note cards in his hand, and was reading over his vows again. His vows that were probably a hell of a lot more romantic and eloquent than mine ever would be.

And that was suddenly a lot more frustrating than it had been earlier. Not just because I hated how my own writing sounded, but because the vows I’d written seemed inadequate. Like they couldn’t begin to touch on why I needed to be married to him now.

Our relationship had never been the starry-eyed romance I’d had with Marcy; it’d been riddled with disasters from the start. We couldn’t stand each other at first. Didn’t trust each other. When we’d finally broken through that, there’d been no time for a honeymoon period. And then he’d nearly bled out in my arms.

I shuddered at the memory, and Darren smiled and squeezed my hand.

It was breathtaking how much I loved this man. Darren had seen me at my worst. He’d seen the jaded asshole who’d distrusted him from the start. Who’d hated him just for being assigned to me when I hadn’t wanted a partner.

And once we’d moved past each other’s barriers, I’d never felt more crazy in love. He’d stubbornly refused to be put off by my bad attitude and worse reputation, or the fact that I was HIV positive, or that I had kids nearly his age and a mother from hell. He’d found something charming in my admittedly difficult-to-live-with personality even though, more than anyone else in the world, he knew me.

And that was it, wasn’t it? Darren knew me. For better or worse, he knew me like no one else, and he was still sitting beside me, a wedding ring in his tuxedo pocket, waiting to get married. To me. Marcy and I had been clueless kids, but Darren and I were going into this with our eyes wide open, knowing exactly who we were and who we were marrying.

As that epiphany settled in my head, I had to swallow a couple of times to keep my emotions in check. Whatever idealistic feelings I’d had when I’d gotten married the first time, they were nothing compared to the pure devotion I had for Darren. Walking down the aisle with him was a no-brainer because I would walk through fire for him. He’d proven—more times than any man should have to—that he would do the same for me. Despite a million reasons why any sane person would have jumped ship a long time ago, Darren was still here.

My heart sped up. I nudged Erin. “Do you have a pen?”

“I think so.” She dug around in her purse, then withdrew a blue pen. “Here.”

“Thanks.” I stepped to the side of the room and took my own note cards from my inside pocket. After I’d crossed out the garbage I’d written before, I flipped them over to the blank sides and started writing.

After what seemed like forever, the woman told us it was our turn.

“I’m surprised you weren’t getting impatient,” Darren whispered on the way into the chapel. His tone was light, but with a note of concern too. He knew me, and he knew I hated having to wait for any goddamned thing.

“Nope, not impatient.” I glanced at him and smiled. “Gave me some time to edit my vows.”

His eyebrows jumped. “Edit them?”

I shrugged but didn’t elaborate.

“Okay, honey.” Jessica put the little basket of flowers into Emily’s hands. “You ready?”

“Yes, Grandma.”

I loved that she called Jessica Grandma now. I was pretty sure Jessica did too.

Erin and Jessica gave her a little nudge, and she started down the aisle. With butterflies in my stomach, I took Darren’s hand and, behind my daughter as she tossed little rose petals on the bright-pink carpet, walked with him up to the front of the chapel.

The photographer probably took more pictures of her than he would of us, but that was fine with me. Her mom would be thrilled, and I suspected everyone—us, the kids, Lisa, Jessica, and Vic—would have flower girl pictures all over our houses for years to come.

At the front of the chapel, Emily stopped, then threw up her arms in a triumphant gesture, which overturned the basket and sent the remaining petals cascading down onto her head. She giggled, and Darren and I laughed. So did everyone else in the room. The photographer’s flash went off several times, so I hoped he got at least one shot of her with the petals raining down. That would be one for my wallet. And dresser. And refrigerator. And wall.

I crouched and hugged her gently. “Good job, sweetie. Can you go sit with Grandma and Erin now?”

“Okay.” She kissed my cheek, and went to join everyone else.

I stood, brushing a few of the petals off my jacket, but not making much of an effort to get them all. The sort-of-Elvis officiant smiled at us from behind his podium which, like everything here, was dripping with red hearts made of paper, plastic, and God knew what else. I had to suppress a chuckle as I imagined my mother’s horror when she one day saw our photos.

Darren and I faced each other, both grinning like idiots and holding hands while the officiant got started. He quickly checked the paper in front of him—probably making sure he had our names right—then went through the usual opening spiel. “We are gathered here” and all that shit. I didn’t hear much of it over the sound of my pounding heart.

After a while, Darren let go of one of my hands and reached into his coat pocket. As he took out the note cards, I realized the officiant must’ve gotten to the part where we’d read the vows we’d written. Nerves fluttered in my gut. I was happier with mine now, but facing the prospect of actually saying them out loud made my stomach clench. I meant them. Every word. But could I say them?

Darren took a deep breath. “So before we met, I had a plan.” He smiled a little. “It was a good plan. Go to college, become a cop, bust my ass to make detective before thirty, captain before forty, and commissioner before fifty. I had it all worked out.” His smile got a little bigger. “And then I got you as my partner, and I figured out real fast that life doesn’t care about plans. You weren’t like anyone I’d ever met before, and for a while, I didn’t think that was a good thing.”

Darren pulled up the next card, shuffling with one hand so he didn’t have to let go of mine. “You didn’t fit into my plans. You didn’t fit into the future I had all thought out for myself, and yet you’ve ended up being the absolute best thing—the best person—in my life. You give me devotion and love and, sometimes, a much-needed kick in the ass.” Someone—probably Vic—coughed out a laugh. I didn’t check. I couldn’t pull my gaze away from Darren, who still had his note cards but apparently didn’t need to look at them anymore to say what he wanted to say.

“You shared your family with me, and I will never be able to tell you how much that means to me. You stayed with me when life hurt me so badly I couldn’t even breathe, much less say thank you. You have never, ever backed away from me, not even when—” he took a shuddery breath “—when you weren’t sure I’d remember you in a few years. You never back away, and you never back down, and I know you never will. I want you to know that I won’t back down either. I love you like I’ve never loved anyone else, Andreas, and I always will.”

There was some sniffling in the front row, and I didn’t dare look. If I saw Erin or Jessica crying, I’d lose it myself, and I was already on shaky ground.

Pretending I wasn’t more nervous than I’d ever been in my life, I took my own note cards from my inside pocket.

Well, here goes . . .

I pulled in a breath, then started reading. “So, this kind of thing is not my strong point. You’ve known from the start that being poetic, or romantic, or even acknowledging that I have feelings is not exactly my forte.”

Darren laughed softly, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. I could hear Erin smothering a giggle too. I couldn’t help chuckling myself, and that eased some of the tension. Some.

“Shut up, you two,” I said, which only made them laugh harder. When they’d calmed down a little, I cleared my throat. “I’ve been trying to figure out what to say here. How to tell you how much I love you, and what it means to me to have you in my life and to have you as my husband. And I just hope the words I finally picked out say it as clearly as I feel it.” I looked at him, and the humor had vanished. He stared at me, wide-eyed, quite possibly as shocked as I was.

Shifting my gaze back to the card, I continued. “Darren, you’re my partner in every sense of the word, and in all of those ways—as the man who watches my back at work and who puts up with me at home—you’re everything I never knew I wanted in a partner. You’re the strongest, most resilient person I’ve ever met. You let me lean on you when I don’t even want to admit I need to lean. We’ve been through hell together, and every time, I’m amazed by who you are when we get to the other side. You don’t just survive things that would’ve crushed most people, you come out still smiling. If there’s—” My voice caught, but I recovered. “If there’s anything in this world I aspire to be, it’s to be half the partner that you are.”

Darren’s breath hitched. I glanced at him, but couldn’t keep looking at him if I wanted my vision to stay clear enough to read my hastily scrawled vows.

“You saw the worst of me right from the start,” I went on. “And you still stayed around long enough to bring out the best. You’ve . . .” My voice threatened to break again, and I had to clear my throat twice this time. Darren squeezed my hand, and when I met his gaze, the tears in his eyes almost did me in. The sniffling coming from the rows of seats didn’t help at all.

“I love you, Darren,” I said, voice thick but holding. “And I guess what this all comes down to is that you’ve had my back from day one, and you have my heart until the end.”

A choked sound escaped his throat, and then he was against me, cupping my face and kissing me, both our faces wet and both of us trembling. All around us, people clapped, and I was pretty sure I heard more sniffling.

Darren touched his forehead to mine. “I . . . did not expect any of that.”

I smiled, brushing a tear from his cheek. “You were pretty good yourself.”

He laughed and kissed me again.

The officiant muffled a cough. “Well, you’re a little early to this part, but I suppose you can be forgiven. Shall we continue?”

We laughed as we drew apart, murmuring sheepish apologies while we wiped our eyes.

“I’m pretty sure we all know the answers, but tradition is tradition,” the man said. “Darren, do you take Andreas to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

I didn’t think I’d ever seen Darren smile that big, and that said a lot. Looking right into my eyes, holding my hands tightly, he said, “I do.”

“Andreas, do you take Darren to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

“I do.” And never in my life had I meant anything like I meant those two words.

We exchanged rings, which was kind of a cluster with as badly as our hands were shaking, but with some cursing, laughing, and more cursing, we slid the bands onto each other’s ring fingers.

“By the power vested in me by the state of Nevada,” the officiant said, “I now pronounce you married. Darren. Andreas.” He beamed. “You may kiss your husband.”

Our eyes locked, and I wrapped my arms around Darren. He grinned. Whispering just loud enough for me to hear, he said, “This beats the hell out of kissing in a hospital bed, doesn’t it?”

I almost burst out laughing, but he kissed me, and the world . . . was just . . . still. People were applauding, and my heart was pounding, and the officiant was saying something, but the only thing I could focus on was the man in my arms.

We’d done it. We were married. I was his no matter what, but now it was on paper.

I drew back and looked into his eyes, overwhelmed by everything. “I love you, Darren.”

He smirked. “I know.”

“Shut up.”

And just because I could, I kissed my husband again.

Oh my God, I was married. Married to Andreas. I had a ring on my finger and flower petals stuck to the soles of my shoes and a stepdaughter—a daughter, holy shit, I was a parent now—in my arms as we walked to dinner, asking me why I hadn’t thrown a bouquet.

“’Cause then I could have caught it,” she said earnestly. “And then I could get married too.”

“Not for another twenty years at least,” Andreas interjected.

Emily pouted for a moment, then grinned. “Then Erin could have caught it, and she could get married!”

I figured it was time to head things off at the pass before Emily started questioning her sister and Zach again. I held on to her with one arm—which was harder than it had been just a month ago, she was growing so fast—and detached my boutonniere. It was a single red rosebud nestled in white baby’s breath, and I managed to pin it to the strap of Emily’s dress without sticking either of us. “It’s not a bouquet, but this way you can still have some flowers.”

She squeezed me around the neck and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Thank you! It’s so pretty!”

“You’re welcome, baby.”

“Try not to cry again, Jessica,” Vic said in an undertone.

“Try not to ask for the impossible,” she replied, and yep, that was her teary voice. “Honest to goodness, it’s my son’s wedding day, of course I’m going to cry.”

Emily looked over my shoulder at her. “Because you’re sad Darren got married?”

“No, sweetheart, I’m so happy he got married.” She held out her arms, and I let her take Emily. “Look at my lovely granddaughters! Who wouldn’t be happy with the two of you?”

I didn’t think Emily was quite convinced, but arriving at the restaurant was a good enough distraction. It was a steakhouse, and probably a really nice one, but I honestly had no idea what I was eating. It was all I could do to make myself let go of Andreas’s hand long enough to cut a bite. I just . . . I wanted him, I wanted to be with him and on him and fucking in him, because he was my husband, because I was allowed.

He squeezed my hand under the table. “I’m going to need this back eventually.”

“No.”

Andreas raised an eyebrow. “No?”

“Nope. I think I’m keeping it for the rest of the night.”

“What do you plan on doing with it?”

I lowered my voice. “Nothing I can talk about while we’re out to dinner with our family.” His lips parted just a little, and his grip suddenly got a lot tighter. I grinned. “But you can borrow it for now. I’ll let you know when I expect it back.” I let go of him—and that was damn hard—stroked his thigh once, then went back to my steak.

Dessert was tiramisu, because my new husband was an enormous sap who knew exactly what I loved, and by the time I finished eating, I was practically ready to jump out of my skin. The ceremony was over, the dinner was over, we’d dotted every i and crossed every t. It was time for the wedding night, and we had a stocked suite with our name on it at the top of the Mandalay Bay.

“We’ll meet up tomorrow for breakfast,” Andreas said. “As long as nobody’s too hungover,” he added, side-eying his older daughter.

“Dad.” Erin rolled her eyes. “I take after Mom, I don’t get hungover. You’re the one who can’t handle the morning after.”

“Such abuse, and from my own kid,” he muttered, but hugged her and kissed her cheek. “You two have fun tonight.”

“Shouldn’t I be telling you that?”

“Do you really want to think about the sort of fun your dad and I are going to have tonight?” I asked. Erin winced.

“Point taken.”

My parents were taking Emily to visit the aquarium before they bedded down. We said our goodbyes, I extricated myself from my mother’s arms after the tenth or eleventh hug, and we finally made it to the elevator. Too bad we weren’t alone, or I would have started stripping Andreas right there. As it was, at least the walls were mirrored. I could watch his front and his back at the same time. The tux might be rented, but it fit him well enough that it could have been bespoke. Honest to God, his ass in these pants looked amazing.

Walking down the hall and getting into the room was a bit of a blur, and once the door shut behind us . . . well. I was done being patient. It felt like forever since we’d been alone, and even longer since we’d had the time and energy to do anything when we were. Wedding planning had been brutal. It was all over now, though, and I was more than ready for our wedding night.

“Shit,” Andreas breathed against my skin as I shoved him back against the door and clasped his head in my hands. I kissed him, cutting off any words, any sounds other than whimpers and sighs as I held him still and fucked his mouth with my tongue. Christ, he tasted so good. His hands rose to clasp my shoulders, and I took the left one—my hand, the one with my ring on it—and trailed it down to my groin, where I was already hard enough to strain the material.

I pulled back far enough to growl, “I want you so bad. You have no fucking idea.”

“I think I probably do.”

I shook my head, feeling a little frantic. “No, you don’t. I want—I want to cut this tuxedo off you, put you on your back on the bed and edge you until you’re screaming, gag you and do it again, use this hand—” I rolled my hard-on against his palm for emphasis “—to hold you open for me while I blow you, and then fuck you after you’ve come, until you come again, even if it takes hours. I want to ride you fucking ragged so you can’t move tomorrow without thinking about me, and then I want to do it again every night for the rest of our lives.”

Andreas laughed, his pupils so big I could barely even see his irises anymore. “You’re such a possessive little shit.”

“Is that a no?”

“That’s a hell yes. But I think I can handle the tux.”

I stepped back. “Fine. You have thirty seconds.”

He was faster than I was, handling tie, suspenders, and all those stupid tiny mother-of-pearl buttons, and getting his pants down and off before I was even done with my shirt. But then, he was the one on the timer, not me. It wasn’t exactly a striptease, but it might as well have been. I think my tongue was hanging out by the end of it.

Andreas sat on the edge of the bed and leaned back on his hands. “This what you had in mind, Darren?”

“Close.” I finally got my shirt off, and decided just to ignore the pants for now. “Get all the way on the bed.” I tore myself away from looking at him—and the word fit; it hurt to look away—and went into the bathroom. Where was it, where was it, where— There. Special delivery. Probably the hotel was used to leaving these sorts of sex gift bags in suites, but I’d blushed over the phone when I’d asked for it. I wasn’t blushing now.

I went back into the bedroom and stared at Andreas, sprawled across the bed like he didn’t have a care in the world, smirking like he owned the place. He was here, with me, and all mine. A little of my desperation bled away, tension falling out of my shoulders and back as I walked over to stand in front of him.

“You’re not naked.”

“Nope,” I agreed, pressing his legs apart with my knees as I settled on the foot of the bed.

“Maybe you should be.”

“Maybe.” I shrugged. “Or maybe there are other things I want to do first that don’t revolve around me being naked.”

Andreas rubbed his foot along my thigh. “Everything should revolve around you being naked.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere.” I grinned at him helplessly. “We’re married. You married me.”

“I know. I was there.”

“Yeah, but.” I didn’t quite know what I was trying to say. “It’s— It feels like so much. I didn’t think it would feel like this.”

He held out his hand. “C’mere.”

“I’ve got—”

“I know you do, just come here for a second.”

I put my supplies down and crawled forward until Andreas had me stretched out against his body. When he kissed me, it was gentle, and I melted so fast I could barely keep my head up.

“It does feel like a lot,” he agreed. “It is a lot. But we’ve got the rest of our lives to figure it all out. There’s no time limit on what we have to do or when we have to do it, and there’s no need to cram it all in at once.”

“Well, there goes my plan,” I deadpanned, but he kissed me quiet again.

“It’s like you said in your vows though, right? Plans don’t stay the same—they change, they adapt. And that’s okay, as long as we keep talking to each other. So yeah, you can try to do everything you said you want to all right now, or we can space it out, or we can shower and go to sleep if you want to. I don’t care. We’ve got time.”

“It’s our wedding night,” I pointed out. “Fucking is kind of traditional.”

“You’d be surprised how many couples don’t make it to that on their wedding nights,” he said. “Marcy and I didn’t. We were too goddamn tired after our never-ending reception.”

“Well.” I kissed him this time. “You’re sweet and thoughtful and I adore you, but there’s no way I’m not going down on you right now.”

“Far be it from me to stop you.”

“Damn right.” I slid back down his body as he bent his knees, and finally came face-to-face with his cock. I might not have been frantic anymore, but I was definitely still eager to get my mouth on him, and from the look of things, Andreas was more than ready for me. I steadied him with my hand, licked the drop of pre-come from his tip, and then wrapped my lips around the head.

Andreas groaned immediately. As much as he loved penetration—and he really did; I was so fucking lucky—there was something about a blowjob that got him hot like nothing else. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t had one for so long before he and I got started—Andreas was careful about protecting his partners, and he hadn’t even had another sexual partner between Lisa and me. He could use a dildo when he wanted to, but he couldn’t give himself a blowjob. They made him noisy, and I loved it.

I ran my mouth from the crown down to the top of my hand, about two-thirds of his length, then pulled back, sucking hard and slow.

“Oh fuck,” he muttered. “Fuck, yes, please.”

I loved it when he got like this, so I didn’t stop. I slid my hand down while my mouth went up, keeping his skin taut in both directions. Two minutes in and his voice was getting louder, his balls starting to tighten.

“Darren, yeah—”

I let go of his shaft with my hand, got a grip around his sack, and tugged down. “Nope. Not yet.”

“You asshole,” he moaned.

“No, you. Actually, great idea.” I had said I’d draw things out. I opened up the lube and slicked my fingers. “Don’t come until I’m inside you.”

“Do fingers count?”

“Not even close.”

“Fuck,” he sighed. “Then you better get on with it.”

“We’re not on a timetable,” I reminded him sweetly. “I’m just spacing it all out, like you said I should.”

“You are so . . .”

I rubbed a slow, smooth circle around his hole with the pads of my fingers and watched his body shudder with sensation. “Irresistible?”

“Egotistical, maybe.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “But at least I’ve got a good reason.” I pushed with both fingers, not hard enough to force my way inside, but he opened for me anyway. Andreas had less patience for prep than I did, which was one of the reasons edging him was so fun. The way he pulled his legs back though, the way he bit his lower lip and shut his eyes when I stroked my fingers inside of him, the way his throat bobbed as he choked back the noises his body wanted to make—hell, he was the one who was irresistible. I kept my hand slow and steady as he gradually loosened up, then bent over and sucked his cock into my mouth and made him go all tight again.

“Darren!” His hands groped over my shoulders, and I settled the left one firmly on the side of my face, where I could feel his ring against my cheek, warm from the heat of his body. He rubbed his thumb across my lips, wet and stretched over his dick. “Jesus Christ.”

I thrust hard with my fingers as I swallowed his cock, and he made a sound like he’d been stabbed, so breathless and intense it either had to come from great pain or great pleasure. Fortunately, I had a good handle on which was which. I kept going until my mouth was sticky with pre-come, and Andreas sounded like he was on the verge of losing his mind.

I pulled back and grinned. “Having fun?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it, rubbing the tips of my fingers over his prostate for the first time and turning whatever he was going to say into “Mmmphffuck.”

“That sounds like a yes to me.”

“Get in me now,” he gritted out.

“Yeah? Feeling impatient?”

“Aren’t you?” he challenged, and—oh my God, yes. It hadn’t been easy to ignore my erection, and as soon as Andreas brought it up, that persistent throb was all I could think about. I’d soaked right through my briefs and into the pants, and wow, I would definitely be paying for dry cleaning before I returned them.

“You win.” I eased my fingers free and undid the pants, kicking the rest of my clothes aside into a pile. I held up a condom questioningly. Most of the time he liked me to wear them so he wouldn’t wake up with his thighs glued together, but sometimes—

“Nah, skip it.”

I used the lube instead, slicking myself gingerly, before I pulled his ankles over my shoulders. I brushed a kiss against the one he’d broken so badly, the surgery scars still bright red and a little puffy, then leaned in until my hips were nearly flush to his ass. I reached down and guided my cock to his hole, then slowly but steadily pressed inside.

“Oh, fuuuck,” I breathed, drawing it out until I was all the way in. “Oh fuck, Andreas . . .”

The angle was perfect for hitting his prostate, every little shift and quiver rubbing up against it, and he wrapped his fingers tight around the expensive comforter and did his best to press down against me. “Move, please.” Andreas never said please so often as when he was in bed, and I loved it.

“Whatever you want.” I took a deep breath and started moving, slow shifts of my hips to start, just a few inches back and forth. We could usually keep a rhythm like this going for a long time, let it all build until we were both desperate to come, but this time we were already there. Andreas looked a breath away from coming untouched, his cock red and swollen, still slick from my mouth and the strand of pre-come that was dripping down the side of it. And me, I’d barely gotten started and I already wanted to let loose inside my husband.

My husband. Oh fuck, I shouldn’t have thought about that, that should not have been such a goddamn turn on. I couldn’t stay slow, had to speed up to match the swell of energy building in my chest, so fast and furious it was going to break my heart if I didn’t let it out. I leaned in and thrust harder, pulled more of those fathomless noises from my husband, more yes, more now, more please. I fucked him until I couldn’t even call it that anymore, because fucking had never felt so good.

I was going to come, and he was coming with me. I reached around to touch his cock, and that was it, that was all it took—one glancing slide of my palm against the head, and he came with a choked-off moan, spasming around me as he painted his chest and abs. He really was irresistible, and I almost bent him in half when I thrust into his ass as far as I could and released. It was perfect. I could have died and I wouldn’t have cared because it felt so impossibly satisfying to be in the moment.

I finally collapsed with a gasp, lowered Andreas’s legs until they were down around my waist, and leaned in until I could rest my head on his chest. He held me there, arms loose and shaking a little, still coming down from the high. That was fine—I didn’t have the breath for speaking either.

Eventually, he broke the silence. “Well, damn. I think we’re off to a good start.”

I chuckled. “Yeah? Not letting you down on the marriage front so far?”

“Not even close.”

“And you really don’t regret not going through with the ceremony and having all of your family and our friends there?”

He craned his neck a little to catch my eye. “Do you?”

I shook my head. “I mostly feel relieved.”

“Same here.” He kissed my forehead. “It’s nice to be in agreement.”

“We should enjoy it while it lasts. I’m sure we’ll find something to argue about before long.”

“Probably.” He didn’t sound concerned. “I was hoping for a shower instead of an argument next, actually.”

“We can do that.” I eased back, separating us with a sigh. “Come on.” I held out my hand and helped steady him as he got to his feet. “We can clean up, then get ready for round two.”

Andreas groaned. “You kill me tonight, and you’ll be a widower long before you’re ready.”

“I’m pretty sure that would be the least of my problems.” The vows might stop at death, but I knew deep down that the way I felt about Andreas never would. He was it for me, every grumpy, stubborn, perfect inch of him. Whatever else happened in our lives, in our future together, I could only envision it happening with him. Together we’d get through anything. “Come on. Shower.”

Everything else could wait.

If not for the weapons-grade air-conditioning in our room, the morning sun that came pouring in from the desert would have melted us both. Neither of us had thought to shut the drapes last night—we’d been a little preoccupied—and now our bed was awash in blinding gold rays.

When I failed to convince the drapes to close on their own or the sun to burn out and fuck off, I stumbled out of bed. Squinting behind my hand, I managed to cross the room without tripping on any of the clothes or shoes that still littered the floor. With a few pulls on the cord, the curtains were shut and the sun blocked out. I paused, letting my seared retinas adapt to the newly darkened room. There was still plenty of light spilling in, but it was much more reasonable now.

My eyes finally adjusted, and I picked my way back to the bed and slid in next to Darren. He stirred a little, mumbling into the pillow, and then cuddled up against me. I smiled as I wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Back in the beginning, he’d self-consciously joked that he was part spider monkey, and he hadn’t been kidding. Sometimes it was a little too hot, but I still loved it. And hell, considering this room had air being pumped into it directly from Siberia, his body heat was more than welcome.

Who was I kidding? Even if the AC had crapped out and the drapes had jammed open, I wouldn’t have pushed him away.

I pulled him a little closer and kissed the top of his head. He murmured something, but didn’t wake up. Smiling to myself, I ran my hand up and down his arm, and paused when my wedding ring glinted softly in the morning light. I thumbed it, exploring the smooth surface.

Last night had been real. We really had gotten married. There was a document out there—and a copy in Erin’s purse—sealing us together and making us legal husbands in the eyes of the State of Nevada. When we got home, there’d be reams of paperwork to make each other our beneficiaries for insurance and pensions, noting each other as next of kin in case something happened—all that shit that formalized this and made it real to everyone else.

I didn’t need the forms. The rings, the vows, and the man were enough. If gay marriage hadn’t been legal, I still would’ve asked him and still would’ve gone through all the motions, because even if the government didn’t recognize it, I did.

Being married to a cop meant an uncertain and uneasy future. That was just how it was. With both of us being cops, things were guaranteed to be tough sometimes. The fact that we were partners meant we’d see each other, so that was a plus, and I was about ninety-nine percent sure we’d stay that way until I retired. I couldn’t see Captain Hamilton inflicting me on anyone else.

But there’d be hard cases, long hours, more injuries, more stress, more things we’d see and experience that we couldn’t talk about with anyone else. I had no illusions that life would be easy just because we were married.

That was okay, though. I wasn’t in it for easy—I was in it for Darren.

On the nightstand, my phone buzzed. It was a little bit of a challenge to get it without jostling Darren, but I managed.

The screen glowed with a text from Erin: Taking Em to Circus Circus. Lunch later?

I smiled. I did want to be there and see my daughters playing the ridiculous carnival games, but I had a feeling they’d be willing to go back for more later on. Right now, I didn’t want to move. Not when I had Darren cuddled up against me, sleeping peacefully with his arm draped over my stomach.

So I wrote back, Will text. Have fun.

Then I put the phone aside and clasped my hands on Darren’s shoulders, encircling him in my arms. We’d go join the family in a while. Our vacation was only going to be so long, and before we knew it, we’d be back to late nights, early mornings, and being dragged out of bed by 2 a.m. phone calls. Long, lazy mornings like this didn’t happen very often.

A long, lazy morning after a long, hot wedding night? Well, we wouldn’t get another one of those.

So I closed my eyes and just listened to my husband breathing. Outside, Las Vegas was bright and awake, and my kids were headed off on an adventure, no doubt with my in-laws in tow, and the world was continuing as if last night hadn’t been anything unusual.

But in here, with the AC keeping us cool and drapes keeping out the desert sun, it was just us. Everything else could wait.

Because this was all I needed.

Explore more of the Bad Behavior series: riptidepublishing.com/titles/series/bad-behavior

Dear Reader,

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Bad Behavior series, with Cari Z

Risky Behavior

Suspicious Behavior

Reckless Behavior

Anchor Point series

Just Drive

Afraid to Fly

Chief’s Mess

Rank & File

Going Overboard (coming soon)

Get a Grip (a Bluewater Bay story)

New Hand (a Bluewater Bay story)

Kinky Sprinkles

Rain Shadow (a Bluewater Bay story)

Starstruck (a Bluewater Bay story)

Running With Scissors

Roped In, with Marie Sexton

Finding Master Right

Static

Writing as Lauren Gallagher

Stuck Landing (a Bluewater Bay story)

Razor Wire

Writing as Ann Gallagher

Lead Me Not

All the Wrong Places (a Bluewater Bay story)

Writing as Lori A. Witt

The Tide of War

See L.A. Witt’s full booklist at: gallagherwitt.com

Bad Behavior series, with L.A. Witt

Risky Behavior

Suspicious Behavior

Reckless Behavior

Panopolis series

Where There’s Smoke

Where There’s Fire

Where There’s a Will

Friendly Fire

House Rules (in the Rules to Live By anthology)

Tempest

Shadows & Light

Changing Worlds

Soothsayer

A Blinded Mind

Surviving the Change

Camellia and Camellia: Spring Blossom, with Caitlin Ricci

Perilous

L.A. WITT is an abnormal M/M romance writer who has finally been released from the purgatorial corn maze of Omaha, Nebraska, and now spends her time on the southwestern coast of Spain. In between wondering how she didn't lose her mind in Omaha, she explores the country with her husband, several clairvoyant hamsters, and an ever-growing herd of rabid plot bunnies. She also has substantially more time on her hands these days, as she has recruited a small army of mercenaries to search South America for her nemesis, romance author Lauren Gallagher, but don’t tell Lauren. And definitely don’t tell Lori A. Witt or Ann Gallagher. Neither of those twits can keep their mouths shut . . .

Website: gallagherwitt.com

Twitter: @GallagherWitt

Email: gallagherwitt@gmail.com

CARI Z is a Colorado girl who loves snow and sunshine. She likes edged weapons, prefers books to television shows, and goes weak at the knees for interesting men and exciting explosions (but not at exactly the same time—that would be so messy).

Blog: carizerotica.blogspot.com

Twitter: @author_cariz

Website: cari-z.net

Enjoy more stories like Romantic Behavior at RiptidePublishing.com!

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www.riptidepublishing.com/titles/lock-nut

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www.riptidepublishing.com/titles/wedding-favors

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