Chapter 23 #2
Voice quivering, I say, “I have no idea.”
Mom hums. “Well, whatever’s wrong, cake will fix it. Kyran, sweetie, can you get the ice cream out of the freezer?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Trying to control my emotions, I find myself settled at the dining room table beside my husband, staring at a black bowl filled with fresh, warm cake and melting vanilla ice cream.
Soothingly, Kyran rubs my back while I try, desperately, to process what’s going on. “You’ve…been talking to my parents.”
“Yes,” he says.
Dad serves himself a massive scoop of ice cream.
“How…often?” I inch my fingers toward the spoon beside my bowl.
“Fairly regularly, right?” He turns a look toward my mother.
“Practically daily, I think,” she confirms, and I stop inching for my silverware as a cold wash settles over me. She adds, “We have a group chat.”
Kyran explains, “I know how much your parents mean to Maelin, so I assumed that meant they were important to you, too. Of course I wasn’t going to marry you without their permission.”
Dad sighs heavily. “We didn’t think there was a single chance you’d say yes with the way he told us he was going to go through with it. So it’s really on us for giving him permission. We laughed about the insanity for so long…”
Mom looks me dead in the eye. “Did he really just show up in the middle of the night with two witnesses and a magistrate?”
I flush. “Well. First…he microwaved a marshmallow.”
“Huh.” My mother blinks. “The methods to woo a woman have changed since my youth.”
“No,” Dad interjects, “I’m positive that would have worked.” His eyes narrow on my husband. “Which is probably why he didn’t tell us that part of the plan.”
Innocent and neutral, Kyran lifts his attention to the popcorn ceiling.
My parents…know everything.
And they’re just vibing with it.
This man is a certified lunatic.
Communication king for real.
No holds barred, he just up and does whatever he wants, blatantly honest, blatantly him, to the edge of insanity and back.
I can’t believe this.
I sincerely can’t believe this.
He is eating celebration cake and ice cream out of an ice-blue bowl beside my black one, because my parents know his favorite color and it’s a family tradition to have a place setting in your colors at home to use.
My parents know his favorite color. When they don’t even know mine.
My head buzzes with static.
Somewhere beyond the hum, Kyran is saying, “We’ve talked a lot about this, mistress, and—”
My skin ignites as I stare, gaping, at a man who just called me mistress in front of my parents, because no holds barred! Stark honesty! Zero shame.
“—your father would really appreciate it if we have a ceremony. A proper wedding ceremony.”
I blink. “What?”
“He’d like us to have a proper wedding. I figure it makes sense to drag Maelin and Zakery into the plans, too, all things considered.
And we’ve already got major wedding plans being made in a little over a month, so why waste extra energy?
A double-double wedding will be beautiful.
And since that’s four out of five, it really also only makes sense for Clara and Lukas to barrel into it, too, right? A quintuple wedding. In April.”
My face scrunches up, and I repeat a violently reasonable, “…what?” Gathering my wits about me, I shake my head. “You’re…planning to crash Viktor and Kaleb’s wedding?”
“I’ve already conspired with Crisis. She thinks it’s a great idea. Absolutely hilarious. She’s been rearranging the Canva Whiteboard for the past few weeks in order to accommodate the additional couples.”
The.
Past few.
Weeks?
We weren’t even married then. He had no idea I’d accept his not-even-a-proposal then.
Or. He shouldn’t have had any idea then.
This feels like the moment in a video when a dozen pieces of foreshadowing come to light.
I am once again in awe of the way he weaves stories together into breathtaking content.
Nevertheless, I rescind my communication king acknowledgment. Considering he didn’t communicate any of this with me.
He’s not serious. He cannot be serious.
I look at my parents, who beam nothing but approval at me.
He’s so deadly serious.
I ask, “And you…didn’t think to tell me about this until now?”
Kyran, despondent, scoops a bite of cake and ice cream up onto his spoon. “I, too, have no idea when it was decided that I am a communication king. I communicate when it suits me, to whatever end serves my means best…or is funniest.”
Yes. Well. I…knew that. I have watched countless hours of this man on replay doing whatever suits him to whatever end is funniest. I have eaten it up. I have lived for it.
He even did tell me in his list of faults that his commitment to a bit is legendary. And I know that to be true.
Genuinely, nothing will surprise me anymore.
I just… I don’t know how to feel. On one hand, he has loved me for months and committed himself to me in vital ways, setting everything in motion without question or hesitation. On the other…
Well.
What did I say about strengths and weaknesses and how they should balance out in a marriage? I guess it’s a good thing my husband is good at being honest with my parents. ’Cause I know I’m not.
“So, April?” I drawl.
“April,” Kyran confirms.
“Do I need to start thinking about wedding dresses?”
“Maelin’s taking care of it.”
Of course she is.
This is…great.
Really great.
My parents approve, overwhelmingly. Dad gets his wedding. Everything’s…great.
So it’s really a wonder that I find myself glancing between my bowl—black—and Kyran’s—ice blue—as weight settles in my chest…and refuses to lessen.