“Baby Girl,” he said softly.

“Close your eyes,” I said.

Without hesitation, he did so. The heat of his body hit me with a wall of pure spice-scented warmth.

Reaching out with my right hand, I took his left hand and slipped the DiAblo onto his ring finger. “Don’t ever take it off again,” I said. “Only you can wear this, whoever you think you might be. You are my other half, my whole life, no matter what.”

His arms slipped around my back, his hands sliding up over my shoulder blades and neck to cradle the back of my head. He pulled me into him, my legs between his, and our bodies were flush from groin to chest. Without opening his eyes, he lowered his head and stole my mouth in a kiss that would normally mortify me to display in public—hot, wet, and tongue-suckingly terrific. His fingertips dug into my scalp, pressing into the scar tissue hidden by the recent hair growth.

In surprise, he pulled back and stared down into my eyes. “Your hair!”

Laughing because I couldn’t care less—I’m in his arms, for fuck’s sake!—I said, “Me? What about your hair?”

His fingers stroked over the thick scar tissue, and then there was a dawning in his eyes, horrified and shining.

“It’s done with, babe,” I told him. “Over. We can talk about it later, okay?”

He pressed his Third Eye to mine, filling me with his joy, his love, and his devotion. Our combined excitement at just being together once more glowed around us, a brilliant aurora.

“Never again,” he whispered. “I don’t want to live if you’re not with me, Baby Girl.”

“Me neither.”

“I love you. Fuck, I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” I replied, my throat closing around my voice, straining my words.

Kissing my Third Eye, he sucked in a sharp breath through his nose. “I gotta…”

“Go.” I laughed.

Looking down into my eyes, he said, “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Not without you.”

Phil

“This makes no fuckin’ sense, Jace. Why don’t you two just get fuckin’ married like normal people?”

“Because Sheri wants it this way,” he replied, sounding irritated.

He wasn’t the only fuckin’ one. This was ri-goddamn-diculous.

Jason had decided to propose to Sheri—all well and good. But instead of busting out a fuckin’ ring and popping the fuckin’ question, they’d decided to have a mock wedding ceremony to show everyone they meant it

On the day before Halloween, here we stood, in the gazebo in my backyard with two hundred fuckin’ guests. The whole place had been done up to the nines for a fake wedding/engagement party for the two blond weirdos to declare their diva-love to the world. Our friends and Sheri’s grandparents had flown in for this thing. Even Jason’s Granny had crawled out of her bayou shack in the swamp to see this farce.

And their fake honeymoon getaway? Three fuckin’ months in an ashram in India! An ashram, where the loony fuckers planned on purifying their souls and eating lentils—so fuckin’ glad I’m missin’ out on that—before coming home and getting married for fuckin’ real.

“Just think of it as more of a rehearsal, yeah?” said Jason. “We might get married in India. We don’t know. This way, we’ll have a weddin’ with all y’all, and then when we finally do it, we still have a memory of bein’ married with everyone around us.”

Yeah, I got that. The thing was…I was fuckin’ jealous.

Since the day we were supposed to get married, Kenna and I hadn’t talked about it again. Badgering my Baby Girl into planning another wedding didn’t seem cool. She had been so stressed out with planning the first one that I didn’t want to put her through that again. I wanted Kenna to mention it. Until then, I was gonna keep my mouth shut even though it was killing me to do so.

Things between us had never been better. Kenna was my best friend, and I was hers. Our sex was off the fuckin’ chain. We were on a frequency that was just beyond anything we’d ever had before.

“Tantric,” my Baby Girl had called it.

The feel, the sight, the scent, the energy within us were focused only on each other. Amazed by the level of love we had for one another, it was tangible on all planes of existence. Transcendence would blaze bright golden light when we came together. Two hearts, two minds, one soul were reunited.

She could still piss me off though. It wasn’t all fuckin’ peachy keen. I’d piss her off, too. But it was fun making up. It would be weird and boring if we didn’t fight. I liked her feisty.

Speaking of feisty, I’d woken up to find Kenna gone. She knew how pissed I would get when she pulled that shit. So, I’d had to do my yoga alone. I liked doing yoga with my Baby Girl. She would help me do it right, and I’d fuckin’ get to watch her do all sorts of badass bendy shit.

When I’d called her, she’d said she was too busy to talk to me, and she would see me later. Later had come and gone with no fuckin’ Baby Girl.

Then, Connor, Jason, Flipper, Devon, and I’d had to go and get ready for this charade. Sheri had demanded we get haircuts and styles, which I’d protested my ass off about. I’d been growing my hair out for Kenna, but Sheri had wanted us looking like we gave a shit about how we looked. So, my hair had been cut in a style that made me look like a fancy Civil War veteran—long on top, stiffened up with some sort of paste, and cropped real close at the sides and back. The only cool thing was that the dream catchers kinda showed.

Sheri had suggested that I shave off my beard, and I guessed I had a bit of the diva in me, too, because I had gone apeshit. I’d spent months growing and maintaining my magnificent fuckin’ face fuzz, and I’d be damned if I was gonna lose that as well. Sheri had settled for a trim. I’d been ready to do damage.

I just hoped Kenna would be all right with it. I thought she missed my long hair.

Still, I hadn’t seen my Baby Girl. She could have at least tried to see what I looked like and told me what she thought. Maybe cop a feel. That was always nice.

Sheri had planned everything to the last detail. A fake autumn wedding meant that we were dressed in brown vest suits, minus the jacket since it was still hot as balls in Louisiana, with ties the color of orange sherbet and cream-colored button-down shirts. I had to hand it to the woman. She knew how to make us look good.

What was fuckin’ badass were the decorations. Jack-o’-lanterns carved with swirly patterns lit the walkway to the gazebo. Streamers made of fake autumn leaves in reds, gold, and browns and white fairy lights wound around the posts and lined the aisle where the girls would walk down. Little bouquets of Kenna’s favorite lotus blossoms in creams and oranges bunched with leaves and ferns were everywhere. Jason had the biggest, fattest lotus blossom I’d ever seen stuck on his vest, and I wanted to flip Sheri the bird for using my Baby Girl’s favorite flower.

It was just too bad that Sheri had thought of a Halloweenish fake wedding because I bet Kenna would love it if our real one could be like this.

Whenever that would be.

The music started playing, thanks to Siggie hidden behind the gazebo with the sound system remote. The congregation all turned to watch the bridesmaids begin their trek down the path. They would be exiting through the sliding glass kitchen door on the big half, which was camouflaged with a white tent and more decorations.

“Oh, shit!” cried Jason.

As his fake best man, I rolled my eyes. “What?”

“We’re in the wrong spots!” He grabbed me, pulling me into the groom’s place.

“No, I’m pretty sure we had it right.”

“No, I’m supposed to be on your left.”

“No, you’re the one marryin’ Sheri, Jace. Remember? I’m marryin’ Kenna.”