Astrid’s eyes drifted to the window, and I fervently hoped she wasn’t able to see through the curtains from her angle.
“I suppose not,” she sniffed.
I was going to have to find some way to shake off this madness. My life was perfect.
Just perfect
“I AM SO HAPPY TO SOON BE MARRIED TO YOU, MY QUEEN,” I called out loudly as Astrid left the room with a sniff.
But when I turned my head, Indi was gone.
Every day after, I tried to put my plan in motion, but Indi either wasn’t home or wasn’t outside.
I wasn’t trying to make her jealous. Just making sure she knew I didn’t desire her or anything like that.
Finally, it was a Saturday morning, and I knew she was home, because her car was still in the driveway.
Astrid and I were outside watering the rose bushes and the Amazon delivery truck had just come by and dropped a few packages next door. So surely Indi would be coming out soon.
I wasn’t going to do much.
Just make my devotion clear.
Just kiss and love on my fiancée a little bit. Just so Indi knew that despite what had happened, I didnotstill think about her and how her lush curves used to drive me wild.
Used towas the operational phrase here.
So when Indi came out in a little white sundress with flowers all over it and her auburn hair falling in shining waves down her back, I took the opportunity to dip Astrid like a romance hero, and attempted to plant a kiss on her lips.
However, we didn’t get the coordination quite right, as she turned her head and my passionate kiss only ended up in her hair.
“What are you doing, Ambrose?” she snapped uncharacteristically, and Indi turned her head to see Astrid’s face wrinkled up in disgust. “You’ll throw your back out.”
“Just a bit of gallantry,” I tried, but Astrid ignored me, smoothing down her ponytail.
“You’re messing up my hair.”
Well, that was a failure,I thought sourly as Indi’s front door shut with a decided snap.
“DON’T YOU LOOK RAVISHING,” I said loudly.
“Ambrose, stop yelling,” Astrid hissed. “I can hear you perfectly well.”
Now what?
I was mulling over different new strategies for making Indie jealous, when I heard a squeal and the sound of a heavy, throbbing bass beat.
I turned and saw a bright yellowLamborghini Revuelto, a sports car that cost a cool $1 million if it cost a dime, spin around the corner at a very improper rate of speed in this subdivision, and pull into Indigo’s driveway.
The bass beats emanating from the car were so loud I felt them in my chest cavity, but before I could open my mouth to protest, not that anyone could have heard me over that din, the engine stopped and a tall man with dark hair and a leather jacket stepped out. He pulled off the jacket and dropped it in the backseat, revealing a tight shirt over huge biceps and a lot of tattoos.
My dear fiancée gasped and clutched my arm so tight her nails dug into my flesh.
“What isFinndoing here?” Astrid gasped.
I wasn’t used to seeing Finn O'Donoghue without his usual celebrity entourage or bevy of rock-star groupies, but you couldn’t mistake Astrid’s ex.
Finn and Astrid had been married for a few years, but Finn had been afraid of commitment, clearly wary of the depth of his own feelings, probably due, Astrid said, to not being challenged enough in school growing up, and they had divorced.
