Scorched(30)

“Darlin’, if you ever care to have me on my knees again, you’ll tell me this is all one big cosmic joke and you did NOT invite those horrid people here to see us. Really, Devil….what the hell were you thinking?” she asked, shaking her head. Honestly she wasn’t sure if her husband had lost his patience or his mind. Either way, his so-called plan had disaster written all over it.

And when Armando found out?

Let’s just say that the burning of Atlanta would look like a mere redecorating project compared to how Mannie would tear up the town once he found out what Devil had done. Thank God he’d been out with Vivian and Sami when Devil and Grant had brought Nick by earlier. At least now she’d either have time to undo what Devil had done or at the very least prepare her poor Mannie for what was coming.

Today had been horrible for him…hell, for all of them really. Because watching their normally happy, joy filled friend unravel had to be one of the hardest things Molly had ever witnessed. And she knew that Vivian and Sami felt the same way. Not even her mother, Anne, or Devil’s Nana had been able to comfort Armando. They’d tried, but the brokenhearted man had only brightened – albeit briefly – when Nana had threatened to beat Nick to death with her trusty wooden spoon for the misery he’d brought Mannie. Molly hadn’t been surprised in the least; her entire family saw Armando Savage as one of their own since practically the day they’d met him.

When Mannie had finally awakened this morning somewhere around eleven, he’d been disoriented and hung over. Overindulging in Devil’s bottle of Crown Royale the previous night and a hard, deep sleep had combined to dull her friend’s senses for a few moments just as he’d risen. It had been heartbreaking to watch Mannie remember all the events that had brought him to Molly and Devil’s home in the middle of the night. At first, there’d been tears and curses as Mannie’s memory had sharpened, becoming clearer with the aid of a strong cup of Nana Delancy’s coffee. Then ice cold anger had set in, morphing Armando from a sweet, heart sore gay man into a fire-breathing Groomzilla intent on terrorizing the villagers of Atlanta, Georgia.

Yeah, he’d been determined to cancel as many wedding arrangements as he could. It had taken the combined efforts of her, Sami, Viv, Grant’s wife, Karen, Molly’s mom, AND Nana to stop Mannie from singlehandedly annihilating every painstaking wedding plan Molly had made over the last few months. Thank God Sami had been carrying around that bottle of unused valium in her purse. They’d crushed two of those bad boys and mixed it with Mannie’s mimosa before he even realized what was happening. Thankfully, he’d spent the better part of the afternoon napping.

When he woke up, Vivian had insisted on treating him to dinner and a movie so that Molly could spend some time with her daughter. Luckily, she’d been able to eject Nick from her house before Mannie had gotten home. It had hurt her to throw out the older man, but she’d known down to her soul that if Mannie had seen him in the frame of mind he was in that there wouldn’t have been enough of Nick left to fill a Ziploc bag.

And damn it, she still had a small sliver of hope that there’d be a wedding in just under a week and she didn’t want the photographs marred by bruises on one of the grooms. After all, that well-known photographer had demanded one hell of a sizeable non-refundable deposit on his services (not that she’d be sharing that information with her hubby).

It was her husband’s long-suffering sigh that brought her out of her worried thoughts, and she narrowed her eyes as he stalked in her direction. Even still half angry with him, she couldn’t help but admire the fluid cat-like grace with which he moved toward her. Talk about poetry in motion…. Even after being married and sharing a child together, she still believed her husband’s body was the stuff poets wrote their sonnets about.

“To answer the question you posed just a few moments ago, Molly,” Devil began as he dropped the towel from his shoulders into the wicker laundry hamper by the sink, “What I was thinking, babe, is that I’d like to see my amazing wife naked again on a regular basis without the vocal accompaniment of a jilted he-devil, thank you very much. Call me crazy, but the moaning and caterwauling that Armando does just really isn’t conducive to the mood I’m trying to create with you. And trust me, darlin’, the only way to make that fantasy into reality without moving the entire country to DefCon 4 and launching the nukes toward Nick’s head is by doing exactly what I’ve done.”

Molly rolled her emerald eyes at her husband’s theatrics. Honestly the man missed his calling on Broadway, she thought wryly. Smacking one hand against his bare chest, she silently luxuriated in how his muscles leapt underneath her fingertips even as she snorted at his previous statement. “Trust you? Seriously? You want me to trust you and your better judgment here? Devil, sweetie, have you taken leave of what little senses you had left? Trust you, my ass.”