I pick up my purse, throw the strap over my shoulder, and advance to the door.

“Where are you going?” He grabs my wrist.

I shake him off, laughing bitterly. “Not sure, but wherever it is, you won’t be there, acting like a jerk who thinks I owe the world to him. I broke up with my boyfriend because of you. You pursued me relentlessly, and for what? To act like I need to up and leave my work just because you said so?”

Mal’s face twists in agony. He understands how badly he is screwing up. He shakes his head, sighs, and drops to his knees, pressing his forehead to my stomach. It is not an act of begging or kneeling, but a simple, sweet gesture.

“I’m sorry. I am being an arsehole, but I don’t mean to. And trust me when I say the last thing I do is take you for granted. Let’s do something fun today. I’ll make some calls and see what I can do about postponing going back to Ireland. What do you want to do?”

You, I think with exasperation. That’s what got me into this pickle in the first place.

He reads my face and starts laughing, rubbing his cheek.

He’s blushing. I am melting despite my best efforts. This is how it’s always going to be.

“Other than the obvious, mutual answer.” He presses his hot lips to my midriff through my pajamas.

“Surprise me,” I whisper.

“Surprise you?”

He grins, the same grin the wolf flashes before he opens his mouth and swallows Little Red Riding Hood whole.

“Your wish is my command, Princess.”

I wore a yellow summer dress and a slightly unhinged smile on my wedding day. The groom wore a red bandana on his forehead, Blundstone boots, cargo shorts, and a black V-neck tee that smelled of warm beer.

We looked too young and too drunk and too careless, but we both somehow knew it wasn’t a mistake.

We just needed liquid courage to be able to do this despite the secrets.

Mal and I got married in Cyprus eight hours later in honor of our napkin contract.

We took a ferry first thing in the morning, right after our mini-argument, and spent our time on it eating clams and drinking white wine. By the time we got to Cyprus, Mal’s nose was sunburned, and I was tipsy and giddy—but not enough to think this was a good idea just because the alcohol in my bloodstream told me so.

The truth is, I wanted to marry Mal.