Her smile drooped, but she didn’t say anything.

I held out my hand. “Come with me, young lady.”

When she locked her fingers around mine, I tugged her out of her chair. She followed me across the hall into my office. “I’d be more excited if you were taking me into the bedroom for a booty call.”

“Later.”

“Pfft.”

“I wanted to know your thoughts on colors.” Pulling out the wedding planner’s notebook, I turned to her.

“Colors?” Her expression clouded. “Let’s do something simple. It’s the whole reason we decided to fly people to St. Lucia in the first place, remember? We have the hotel all to ourselves for our party.” She turned pleading eyes on me—big, brown, beautiful pleading eyes that usually got her exactly what she wanted. Usually. “Wouldn’t it be so much better to have the wedding planner connect with the events coordinator there? Since both of us are so busy. Those two can get it all done. We show up and have a blast. Simple as that.”

Frustration rose up inside me, and I clenched my jaw, trying to be patient. “It’s our wedding, Emilia.”

She drew away, running a hand idly up and down my arm. “Okay. I’ll be good.”

I smirked at her. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Well…” She gave me a flirtatious wink. “Win-win for you, then. You like it when I’m bad.”

“I do…but not right now. We have to make some important decisions.” I pointed to the chair beside the one I was sinking into. “Sit.”

“The most important things are that we share with our family and friends, we have fun, and we come home husband and wife. Right?”

I fumbled through the binder for the correct page. “It should be the perfect day. It will set the tone for the rest of our life together.”

And she didn’t know this yet, but the ceremony and party afterward were going to make up for all the other bullshit surrounding this wedding. I would make sure of that. If we ended up having to sign that piece-of-shit document after all my struggles against it, I was determined that a spectacular wedding would ease that difficulty.

She sighed, crossing her legs and slouching in the seat beside me like the impatient student at the back of the classroom. “It’s a party. People are going to eat, dance, and get drunk. Take a lot of funny pictures. Then you and I are going to say some very sweet things to each other, dance, force-feed each other cake, and drink champagne before going up to our room alone to screw like bunnies.”

I threw her sharp look, and her brows rose halfway up her forehead. This was the disapproving glance I gave an underperforming employee or a friend who was being annoying or over the top (cough—Jordan—cough). The woman with whom I planned to share the rest of my life didn’t typically receive it.

She blinked, appearing puzzled at my reaction. When I remained silent, she stammered, “I—I was—I was thinking. Wouldn’t it be fun to randomly show up at the airport with only our passports and the clothes we’re wearing? We could pick any destination and fly off there…a few weeks later, we return rested, tanned, and married. Wouldn’t that be cool?”

Tense silence hung in the air between us, and she frowned while I simmered with irritation at her words.

I finally set aside the notebook and folded my arms across my chest. “So your mom would be okay with that? And my family? You, yourself, said that the most important thing is that we share this day with our family and friends. You actually think they’d be fine with missing that moment in our lives?” I clenched my jaw so that my head hurt. “Or maybe it’s not as important to you?”

She flushed. “Of course it’s important to me. And—” She took a deep breath and let it go, as if trying to curb her anger before it flared up. Not unlike what was happening with me. “I’m sorry. I was spitballing. I didn’t mean to make you mad.” Her eyes flicked away from mine to focus on the notebook I’d set aside. “It is very important to me. But the wedding planning kind of stresses me out.”

“That’s why I’m handling it,” I said quietly.

She nodded, silent. I relaxed my arms and picked up the notebook again.

She leaned toward me and put her hand on my leg. “You okay?”

Yeah, I was stiff. These days, tension was a constant. Her eyes opened wide, and she licked her lips.

“It’s the most important day of our lives.” My tone of voice cut like a knife. Even I could hear it. She visibly swallowed.

“There will be a lot of important days in our lives.” She tilted her head.

Resentment boiled up, making my skin hot. “So you don’t care?”

She pulled away. “Of course I care.” She shifted in her seat, watching me closely. “But I’d be thrilled beyond words to become your wife at the courthouse or some cheesy chapel in Vegas, too.”

She was trying, but her words were doing nothing to stave off my irritation. “Okay, so…you’re down for Vegas, then? Wedding performed by Elvis? I hear they have drive-up chapels.”

She made a face. “You know what I mean…or maybe you don’t. I only mean that getting married to you will be the reward in and of itself.” She reached out for my hand, but I pulled it back. “I’m excited, and that’s all I need. You. Me. Some champagne. A person to perform the ceremony. Our loved ones. All the other stuff is extraneous.”

“All the other stuff makes great memories. And pictures, too…”

She wilted into her chair. “Whatever you decide on will be wonderful.”

“So if I decide I’d love to have you walk down the aisle in a chain mail bikini?”

She glared. “You’d better not.”

I finally let out a laugh. Her mouth quirked as she watched me. She seemed to be studying me, as if she’d noticed something for the first time.

“What?” I asked.

She shook her head and shrugged. “Nothing. I had no idea you were so into weddings. I mean, you never seemed to be all that interested in the details of the weddings we’ve attended together.”

“I want this day to be worthy of you.”

Her forehead smoothed suddenly, and she bit her lip. “That…that’s the sweetest thing ever. So thoughtful.” She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me to her. I returned the hug, landing a light kiss on her neck, relishing the vanilla smell of her skin.