Page 110 of Dirty Pool

“It’s because he’s not told his parents?”

John’s gaze narrowed at the wall right beside Gabbie’s head. “I mean … yeah? You don’t know much about Italians, do you?”

Michel chuckled, but said nothing.

Gabbie smacked him with the back of her hand, right in his gut. “Stop it, I thought he was going on like that because of what is happening in Detroit. I was panicking here, Michel. And he’s going off like a feckin’ stook because of your family? Bollocks, all of it, and then you sit here and take the piss out of me by laughing. Shite, that is.”

John stared at Michel, then. “Did she insult me … or you?” His gaze darted around as he muttered, “What … because I don’t understand a thing she just said.”

Gabbie scowled.

Michel laughed harder. “This is going to be great, really.”

“Until your ma finds out,” John returned.

That quieted Michel.

“Still fucking hate you,” he told his cousin.

John smirked. “But you did pick me to be your witness.”

“Regretting that.”

“Liar.”

“Are we getting married today, or what?” the clerk’s receptionist snapped at them from the opened doorway. “Because there is a whole line behind you waiting. Someone else can go instead.”

Gabbie was the first to stand, and Michel quickly followed. Even with the idea that someone—mainly Michel’s mother—was going to be very unhappy that this had happened without her knowing beforehand, she didn’t feel any regret walking into the office with Michel’s hand woven with hers. Detroit was a background thought for her now … as silly as that might be. Mostly because they were moving forward, and leaving it behind.

This—getting married—was one more step forward. It might be a shite way to start a relationship with her mother-in-law, sure.

Some things couldn’t be helped.

NINETEEN

There wasn’t anything amazing about being married at the City Clerk’s office. If anything, it was very legal and final. Other than the clapping from the people in the office bearing witness to the weddings while doing their jobs, and John who stood in as the legal witness for Michel and Gabbie, it all happened rather quietly.

And quickly.

Michel thought … he liked it better that way. He never thought he would have said that. Being Italian, and growing up in such a large family, weddings were part of the culture. Loud, messy, and all night long. That was the typical Catholic, Italian wedding. He’d never given much thought to his wedding or how it might happen, but now that it had happened, there wasn’t any other way he cared to do it.

This had been perfect.

“… I now pronounce you man and wife,” the clerk said.

Michel blinked, losing his train of thought in the process. Not because of the clerk’s words, but because Gabbie’s sweet smile deepened at the woman’s proclamation.

It was done.

“You may kiss your wife,” the clerk added.

Michel’s hands tightened around Gabbie’s. It was the only warning he gave his wife before he tugged her closer to him in one fast, hard motion. He kept his fingers tangled with hers as his mouth crashed down on her own. He was pretty sure the clerk intended for them to have a quick kiss, and make their way out as fast as they came in.

Was that typical?

Michel didn’t know.

All he cared about in that moment was the way his wife’s lips worked against his. How her fingers tightened around his, and then a sweet smile curved her mouth because she knew it, too. It was such a primal urge, he thought, just to do this.