"Jesus," I said, staring into the shower. "She kicked the living crap out of him."
"Yes."
"I don't suppose he said anything."
"No," Tina and Sinclair said in unison. Marc had gone back upstairs to take Jess aside and assure her all was well. Who knew what Nick was up to-hopefully not prying too much. Cathie, miffed we had let my sister "get away," had walked through a wall and went who-knew-where.
"Poor guy, minding his own business and she comes down here and starts whaling away on him."
I started to chew on my wrist-the usual quick pick-me-up for George-when Sinclair stopped me. "A large part of your sister's faith hinges on redemption. She does seem to feel badly about her part in this. So why not have her feed George for a day or two?"
"Oh, but that's pretty..." Diabolically mean. "Brilliant," I confessed. "Okay, I'll tell her that. She'll have to feed him, one way or another, until he's healed up from everything she did to him."
"And I-ah-must be sure that the-ah-" Tina was stammering like a blonde learning Latin. And I ought to know.
"Tina, what in the world is your problem?"
"The thing!" she blurted. "I must be sure the thing is also taken care of."
"What?" I asked, but Tina was already out of the shower room.
Leaving me with Sinclair, who wouldn't talk to me, and George, who couldn't.
Oh.
"Well." Cough, cough. "I guess I'd better get to shopping-"
"You seem to always be shot or stabbed or otherwise fatally attacked when I'm not around." And was that a smile, lurking in the corners of his mouth?
"Hey, I didn't do anything. I was minding my own business, and Laura stabbed me in the heart." Okay, even I knew how lame that sounded.
He was smiling. "Your sister will have some bruising."
"Okay. I'll break out the ice packs. For the record, I disapprove of the whole strangling thing."
The smile was gone, banished to wherever Sinclair's smiles go. "She is extremely lucky that's all she will have."
"Now, come on. It was an accident. You saw how upset she was after."
"She certainly seemed to be upset," he agreed.
"What? She was lying?"
"I don't know. That's part of what I don't like."
"Well, you shouldn't have picked her up like that and choked her like a rat, that's all I'm saying. Although it was kind of-never mind. Bad, bad Sinclair! But thanks for coming to the rescue. Again."
He sighed and brought me close to him; warily, I went. "No matter how angry I am with you, I cannot bear to see you hurt, or in trouble, it seems."
I felt like jumping up and down. I squashed the impulse. "That's because we're in luurrrrrrrrvvvv."
He grimaced. "How enchanting."
"Listen, I've been thinking."
"How charming!"
"Shut your face. I really have. Been thinking, I mean. About the fight, and the things you said. Maybe we shouldn't get married," I said uneasily. The training of a lifetime of reading Modern Bride rose within me and screamed in horror, but dammit, this was bigger than what I wanted.
"Are you sure she didn't hit you on the head with that hellish thing?" he asked, feeling my forehead.
I slapped his hand away. "I'm serious. This sort of thing is always going to be happening to us. To our friends. There's always going to be some disaster that will threaten to ruin everything. You have to admit, this was minor, as far as this stuff goes. And worse is around the corner, guaranteed. Maybe..."
"No."
"I'm just saying..."
"You've said it yourself: you won't feel like you belong to me without this silly human ritual. So we are doing it, damn it all. And I am not going through a tasting menu again, or a flower meeting. No. Absolutely not."
"That's... so sweet," I said finally. "So you feel like you're not worthy of me, but you're insisting on a wedding, when before you implied that me changing the date means I secretly don't want to marry you. Is that about right?"
"Secretly or not, this human ritual obviously holds deep meaning for you. So we will do it. Then even you will admit you belong to me."
"Uh... we're not using 'obey' in the vows."
He smiled. "Aren't you in for a surprise, darling."