Page 75 of When the Smoke Clears

“I haven’t had time,” I hiss, barely containing my voice to a whisper. “You’ve had the week filled with too many activities.”

Victoria rolled her eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for my wedding to get in the way of your sex life.”

I pinched her arm.

“Ouch.” She rubbed it, scowling at me for a second before grinning.

“You’re the one who said I needed to have sex.”

“Five minutes, Everleigh. Ten, tops. Just lift your dress and get it done. Is Will having to court you or something? He doesn’t live here. Stop trying to make him your boyfriend. Just have him pop your cherry, say ‘thank you, kind sir,’ and be done with it.”

I cupped my hand over my mouth and snorted.

Victoria grinned, smoothing a stray hair back into place.

“Found the earring,” her mom declared. “Let’s go, ladies. The limo is here.”

All eyes were on me for ten seconds before the next bridesmaid made her entrance. But the only eyes that mattered to me were William Landry’s. It wasn’t my wedding, but it felt like my fairy tale. Will lifted his hand over his heart briefly as if I were taking his breath away.

No man had ever looked as handsome as Will did in his tux, hair neatly parted on the side, face shaven around his mustache, and that irresistible look in his eyes, like we shared a secret.

My cherry nearly spontaneously popped right next to the altar. When I took my place and faced the guests, he winked.

Dead.

I swallowed and focused on anyone but him so I wouldn’t pass out.

The string quartet played “A Thousand Years” as Victoria’s dad walked her down the aisle. I planned my wedding to Will.

Our house in Montana (because I knew I’d find a job wherever he wanted to live).

Two kids spaced three years apart.

A bird named Marie Curie.

And a Yorkshire terrier—Rosalind Franklin.

My romantic heart skipped so many beats during the ceremony because even when I wasn’t looking at Will, I could feel his gaze on me. The butterflies in my tummy multiplied, making my hands feel clammy around the bouquet.

After vows and rings were exchanged, the minister pronounced them husband and wife, they kissed, and the bridesmaids paired up with the groomsmen to follow them into the building.

“Dr. Reichart,” Will said, offering me his arm.

I grinned at the guests. “I’m not a doctor yet,” I whispered, swallowing my giggle through a smile.

“Does that mean you can’t give me a thorough physical after the reception?”

I tightened my grip on his arm, hoping no one heard him. Once inside, we were forced to go our separate ways for the formalities dictated by the wedding planner.

It wasn’t until after the sit-down dinner, toasts, and cutting of the cake that the wedding party was free to mingle. I jumped in my seat, feeling something like a spider on my neck. Will smirked, standing behind me.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

He ran his fingertips along my skin where it met my dress. “I’m investigating.”

“Investigating?” I tried to control my breathing, but it was impossible with his fingers caressing my skin.

“Looking for zippers, hooks, buttons . . .”