Cameras flash in unison. I try to keep my eyes from squinting, but it’s nearly impossible; the barrage of lights is merciless. I swear, if those camera shutters were any louder, I’d think I was being shot at. “I think we both know that wasn’t my first choice.”
“Petra! Show off your ring!”
My blushing bride does as instructed. She flashes the photographers another charming wink, giving the papers a shot to fight over until the sun rises. “But it was your choice. Keeping me alive, and then marrying me.”
“A choice you’re already making me regret.”
“Oh, please. As if you haven’t been regretting it from the second you had to break the news to April.”
My hard-won smile falters. “Careful,” I growl. “I’m not above hitting a lady.”
Petra laughs like I just whispered something funny in her ear
