12. Roman
Twelve
Roman
“What?”
“Marry me.”
“Roman, we have been together a week. One week! ” she yells, holding up her index finger for emphasis.
“I know, baby, but I love you. I already know I’m going to marry you. Why shouldn’t it be sooner rather than later?”
“What will people think? I’m your stepsister.”
“Who gives a shit? We aren’t related by blood. Our parents just happened to meet before we did. I love you, baby. I’m marrying you. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.”
She sighs and looks at me. “Yes.”
I grin. “Yes?”
“Yes, I’ll marry you, you crazy man.”
“Woo-hoo!” I pick her up and spin her around. “Let’s get married tomorrow.”
She starts laughing at me. “Oh, my god! Are you serious right now?”
“Dead serious.”
“What about our parents?”
“They didn’t invite us to their wedding. Seems like it’s fair they don’t get to come to ours.”
“That’s just mean, Roman.”
“It’s not. Wouldn’t it be nice to forgo all the planning and other bullshit associated with a big wedding? All I care about is making you officially mine.”
I consider his words. It’s not like I’ve ever loved big weddings. That’s just not my style. “You do have a point there. I have friends who’ve had big weddings. They kind of seem like a nightmare. Just one condition, though.”
“What’s that, baby?”
“We tell our parents beforehand. If they want to come, they can. If they don’t, that’s fine, too. Their choice.”
“Okay, baby. Whatever you want.”