Page 76 of The Carnage We Keep

I think they need to be psychiatrically evaluated because are you kidding me.

But there was one thing that surfaced as they gushed about what an “amazing young woman” my blushing bride-to-be was. Bella had apparently mentioned over lunch how much she hated white at weddings. She thought it was an “antiquated tradition rooted in purity culture and the grotesquely patriarchal concept of chastity”. And that’s a literal quote.

Sofia found her new role model.

Mom probably had cartoon heart eyes.

Me?

I saw right through it.

Bella spending half of lunch telling my mother how much she’d “just hate it if everything was white”? How much it would “shake her ideas of marriage” if, say, she was forced to wear white? Or how devastated she’d be if, God forbid, the groom was in white?

Yeah, nah.

Mom and Sofia might’ve been fooled. But I’ve gone toe-to-toe with Satan’s problem child enough to know when she’s setting me up.

She wanted me to think it would fuck with her if I were to dress in some absurd all-white tuxedo, so that when she walked in wearing whatever the fuck she wanted, I’d be up here at the altar looking like a goddamn cruise-ship magician.

My grin widens as Bella begins to cross the room to me.

I’m not in white. In fact, just to illustrate how pathetic I thought her attempt to screw with me was, I’ve gone the other way, donning head-to-toe black including the shirt.

Get fucked, you walking, talking true-crime podcast.

Bella glides toward me in her giant black throw rug, looking like a Harry Potter Dementor. But when she’s a few steps away, she shrugs her shoulders, letting the heavy fabric drop to her feet.

My eye twitches.

Fuck me.

Bella is dressed to kill.

The very Morticia Addams-type gown fits her sinfully well, hugging every curve of her tits, waist, hips and ass. It hangs all the way down to the floor, and I can't avoid staring at the way the neckline plunges deep into her cleavage.

I swallow as I yank my eyes back up, only to find Princess Probable Cause grinning smugly at me.

Goddammit.

She comes to a stop in front of me, still rocking that little grin as she raises her eyes to mine.

“See something you like?” she purrs.

I smile coldly. “I was just wondering when subtlety officially died.”

“Maybe around the same time you forgot how to stop staring at my tits?”

She smirks up at me.

“By the way…” She cocks a brow as her gaze drops to my all-black ensemble. She reaches out and adjusts my lapel before patting my chest. “Thanks for matching. God, I would have died if you’d somehow gotten it in your head that I wanted you in white or something.”

She grins impishly at me.

Bella’s hand suddenly darts into some hidden pocket in the back of her dress. My reflexes kick in as she yanks her hand out and thrusts it toward my midsection, my own hand darting out to grab her wrist before she can stab⁠—

Shit.

My eyes drop to her completely empty hand.