“Who got next?” Ronan asked after wrapping up his song.
“Us!” I volunteered, hand shooting in the air.
Grant frowned as his jaw worked to polish off what I hoped was his last slider of the night.
I don’t want to hear about his stomach hurting later when I’m trying to get mine.
“I didn’t agree to this,” Grant protested as I tugged on his arm, desperately trying to pull him out of his seat.
“Happy wife, happy life,” Daisy volunteered.
“That’s easy for you to say when you’re both the wife,” Grant mentioned, finally budging. “The phrase is ‘Happy spouse, happy house.’”
Ten minutes later, I was buzzing with energy after we selected our song. I couldn’t stop grinning as I gripped the microphone in my hand and waited for the opening lyrics.
“How do you want to play this?” Grant asked, tucking a few curly ringlets behind my ear.
“Together… how it should be—always together.”
Grant’s lips slipped into a soft smile.
“Always together.”
Thaddeus
Droplets of whiskey sloshed over the rim as I scrolled, spilling onto my desk. My jaw tightened until it ached as I watched the friends-only social media posts from Kieran Baker’s account. Kiyah and Grant were dancing while singing “Out of My League” by Fitz and The Tantrums like two sick lovebirds whose wings I wanted to tear off. Grant was laughing and smiling, and his eyes never left Kiyah as she spun around him, demanding his attention. By the chorus, the entire family, plus their legal counsel, were belting out the lyrics. Kiyah and Grant ended their duet with a bow and a deep kiss that edged on inappropriate.
The night proceeded with speeches, cake-cutting, dancing, and gift-opening. It felt like a knife to the gut when Jonathan Baker gifted Kiyah and Grant their signed divorce papers that he never dropped in the mail. Symbolically, the happy couple burned the divorce petition in one of the firepits.
My stomach twisted with acid from the happiness they didn’t deserve. I took another swallow. The liquor scorched down my throat, but it didn’t soothe the rage. It intensified as they paraded their obscene joy for the world to see.
I slammed the glass down and watched the amber liquor roll like a tidal wave while my pulse hammered in my ear.
They were mocking me, and my patience had run its course.
“Do you see this?” I asked, flipping the tablet to Desi.
“I do, sir.”
“That’s my first lady.”
“It is, sir.”
I turned the tablet and rage to the man who failed me.
“What is that, Stone?”
He mumbled around the gag, blood and snot dripping from his nose. I frowned when he began crying.
“Hit him.”
Desi reared back and punched him, landing a powerful hook to his jaw. Stone’s head slumped forward. Desi grabbed his hair and yanked his head back, forcing our eyes to meet.
I poured another drink, and my hands trembled with fury.
“Hit him until I tell you to stop.”
Stone was barely conscious by the time I gave the signal. I stood from my desk, dragging the empty glass across the gleaming surface. I leaned against the desk and crossed my arms, glaring at the pile of stinking trash before me. I motioned for Desi to remove the gag.