“I’m the marrying kind, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. But not to you.”
“Ouch.” I clutch at my heart.
“Rrrruuuurrr,” Chewmocka agrees with me. At least, I think he is.
“You know what I mean,” she says.
“You need me to kill him?” Fauxley asks Bristol, nodding her head toward me. “I’m good at that.”
“I don’t think I do, Bristol,” I say, ignoring Fauxley. We don’t have a lot of time left to win this thing. But I’m more concerned with what Brie is telling me right now. Or not telling me. “Tell me what you mean.”
She looks at me, her eyes are wide. “Youwantto do this?”
“Fuck, yeah, I want to do this.” And until that moment, I’m not sure I realized just how true that is. It’s crazy and a little fucked up, but I don’t think I’ve ever been surer about anything than I am about marrying Bristol.
“What I learned frommy ex”—Fauxley leans between us—“Is that one man can make a girl realize they’re not all the same.”
Bristol nods as though this is sage advice. I guess, in a way, it is. Depending on whether you view it as positive or negative.
“How about this?” I propose to Bristol, no pun intended. “You said your sole focus in life is to take me down?”
She nods.
“So, do it. Marry me; we’ll win the scavenger hunt. We can go back to the hotel, you can get me all worked up, which, I’ll be honest, won’t be hard to do—”
“It’s cause she’s a looker, that one.” Fauxley points to Brie.
“Rrrruuuurrr.” Chewmocka nods.
“I know,” I say, trying to stay patient. “She’s fucking beautiful.”
I turn back to Brie, who is looking at me wide-eyed. “You really do think I’m beautiful, don’t you?”
“Not just beautiful.” I take her hands in mine. “I think you’re exquisite.”
“Aw, that’s it, right there, ain’t it?” Fauxley says.
“Rrrruuuurrr.”
Bristol nods but doesn’t take her eyes off me. “Let’s do it.”
“This the man that brings out your crazy side?” Fauxley asks. “’Cause every girl has got one.”
“Oh. My. God. I was thinking that same thing about him the other day.” Bristol sounds in awe of Fauxley right now. “It’s like you read my mind.”
“You and me, lady.” Fauxley points at her temple and then at Bristol. Thecorrecthand signal for of one mind. Pete needs to see this. And not just for the gesture.
“Okay, then. Wyatt, do ya swear on your twisted little heart to take Bristol as your special kind of crazy and keep her as your wife? Do ya promise to love her like a mad jester, protect her from all the bat-wieldin' knights, and be true only to her 'til the end of days?"
“I do.” My heart races. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I’d ever get married. If I did, I never thought it would be without my family present. Yet, here I am, doing exactly that and so far, not regretting a thing. There are no grand speeches or elaborate ceremonies, but somehow Fauxley Quinn manages to say everything that needs to be said in exactly the right way.
I wait for Bristol to meet my gaze, so I can smile and try to calm her nerves. Her hands are shaking in mine. I run my thumb along her soft skin, and when she finally looks at me, her eyes are filled with excitement. And fear.
It’s her turn.
“Bristol, do ya swear on your twisted harlequin soul to take Wyatt as your special kind of crazy and keep him as your one and only? Do ya promise to love him like a crazed clown, cherish him amidst the chaos, and forsake all other suitors 'til the end of days?”
