“I love it. It’s all my design, with tons of light from the two-story windows,” I say. I freaking love my studio.
“It feels very industrial.”
“It’s an artist studio, Dad. It’s supposed to feel like a warehouse.”
“If you say so, you’re the expert.”
I totally am the expert.
Oh, did I mention my daddy’s here to walk me down the aisle?
The studio has a magnificent industrial church-like atmosphere, and I couldn’t think of a better place to get married. We’ve cleared out all the stuff, which was no easy feat, and crammed it all into my office and back rooms for the day.
Folding chairs in neat rows are packed with people, with an aisle down the middle.
Lawson insisted on overflowing the room with flowers. He said for beauty, but really I suspect he’s trying to cover the smell of paints and paint cleaners.
My dad and I are standing just around the corner, out of sight from the guests and waiting for the music to start.
I peek around the corner and spot Lawson waiting for me at the makeshift altar.
My breath hitches at the sight. Even though we’ve now been living together for ten months, it feels like this is the first time I’m seeing his utterly gorgeous face.
He’s wearing a custom-made Italian-cut dark-gray tux with a black bow tie. I made him wear it.
Lawson protested, saying I might stand him up because I didn’t want to marry a prick. I told him to fuck off, and that I wouldn’t marry a man wearing a T-shirt, no matter how much I loved him. Besides, I’ve gotten used to the idea of spending the rest of my life with a rich prick.
Right now, my heart pounds at the knowledge we’re about to be married. But I’m not the least bit nervous, only excited. I want to run down the aisle into his arms right now.
There are so many things I want to do with him right now, but we’re going to have to get rid of all these guests first.
And this silk and lace wedding gown I’m wearing — although Lawson may want me to keep on what’s underneath. I can’t wait to see his face when he sees me look all innocent and virginal in my white lace lingerie.
I’m super excited to give Lawson my wedding present to him. I designed him a new tattoo. He’s finally getting that self portrait of my tits he always teases me about. I can’t wait to see his face.
The music starts: the very unoriginal Wedding March that my father requested. Apparently he’s dreamed about this day since I was a baby. That’s fine, my dreams have all come true, I don’t mind making someone else’s come true too.
“Ready, Skye?” Dad asks, offering me his arm.
“It’s about time.”
I take his arm and we walk down the aisle. My mother stands in the front row, dabbing her eyes with tissues.
Ava and Gordon stand beside her, clasping hands. They announced their engagement last month. I love them and feel I owe them both so much. Transferring Ava the proceeds of my tenth and twenty-fifth paintings was the proudest day of my life. Not only was it enough money to cover all my back rent, it cleared her mortgage. There was even a little left over for her wedding money savings pot.
Julie stands beside Lawson, acting as his best man. She’s still friends with Freya, although she’s lost a lot of respect for her now that she’s moved in with Kelso. Freya will freak when she finds out Kelso isn’t as rich as he lets on, but I can’t feel too sorry for her.
My friend from college, Amy, walks a few feet ahead of me, acting as my maid of honor.
Her and Julie are wearing coordinating dresses in a shade of cerulean blue that I mixed myself. It took me weeks to find the exact shade I wanted, and I’ve gotta say, it looks pretty fucking amazing with all the sunlight flooding in the windows.
Lawson’s eyes are fixed on me the whole way down the aisle, traveling up and down my body, occasionally locking with my eyes.
When we arrive at the altar I notice Lawson swallow hard. The fact truly almost makes me cry. I know it’s because he never thought he’d find someone. At least not someone who loved him for him.
I turn to face him, placing my hands in his.
“I love you,” he mouths.
“I love you too.”
Carny: A Bad Boy Small Town Romance
Different town every week means a different woman in my bed. No complaints here. That’s how I f*cking want it.
One look of my handsome smile has them weak in the knees. One touch of my rock hard muscles has their panties dropping. One night of pounding with my pierced, tattooed c*ck and they beg me to stay.
But when the weekend’s over, I move on to the next town, and next woman.
Until Emily.
One look at the beautiful blonde and I know she’s the one I want in this town. One taste of her innocence and I need more.