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Chapter One

One

Will

One drive to Boston down.

One rehearsal, one rehearsal dinner, one raucous night out with the guys down.

A wedding tomorrow, and one wife-to-be sleeping... down the hall.

I had a feeling this arrangement wouldn’t last. Hanna hated sleeping apart on her recent trips for faculty position interviews nearly as much as I did. And the night before our wedding her mother gets us separate rooms, to keep tradition, build suspense?

Forget it.

It wouldn’t last.

I reached behind me, fluffing the pillows, and then stretched out on the giant king-size bed.

My cell phone buzzed on the bedside table and I laughed, saying, “Called it,” to the empty room before answering, “Hanna, my love.”

She skipped the greeting entirely. “I’m nervous.”

I smiled into the phone. “I’m not surprised. You’re promising to obey me and be my sex slave for the remainder of your days. You know I won’t go easy on you.”

She didn’t even spare me a laugh. “Can I come to your room?”

“Of course,” I said. “I’ve been hoping you would come down—”

“No,” she interrupted with force. “No, I can’t. That was a test, Will. You’re supposed to say it’s bad luck.”

“But I’m an atheist,” I reminded her. “I don’t believe in luck. I believe in intent. I believe in discovery. I believe in sex before the wedding. In fact, I believe you are three doors down, completely wigging out, when you could come in here and talk. And then let me put my penis in you. I’ll stare at you the entire time, too, and our marriage will still be the most amazing marriage in the—”

“My boobs look enormous in my wedding dress.”

I groaned, throwing my arm over my face. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“I just wanted to warn you.” Her voice grew slightly slurred and I could immediately imagine her nervously chewing on a fingernail. “I think maybe it’s overboard. I wanted it to be a cute thing between us—your boob obsession, our wedding; I mean, you—”

“Hanna,” I cut in. “I promise to do my best not to motorboat you at the altar.”

“That isn’t what I mean.”

“Plum. Breathe.” I heard her take a long inhale and slowly let it out. “Tell me,” I said quietly. “What did you mean?”

“Just that... what if I look...”

“Perfect?” I suggested.

She blew out a burst of air and admitted in a rush, “Busty—like a busty whore bride.”