Cut a Rug

You are currently reading from the Prompt #2 Series.

After Devin and I finished our first dance as a married couple, I kissed his cheek softly and smiled as he said, “I love you, Mrs. Whitman.”
“I love you too.” I said, choking back tears.

In the past few weeks, Devin and I had grown incredibly close – for a few moments, I was back with the man I fell in love with.  The guy who knew all the words to Pulp Fiction, who made pancakes shaped like penises in the morning.  The guy who always remembered to pick up the mini Tootsie Rolls for me when he went to Wawa and got me the complete works of Edgar Allen Poe for my birthday…the guy who once carried me a mile up to the threshold of his dorm room because I said my feet were tired…but they were only moments.

Devin took a deep breath, pulled me in close and said, “Just think, Lauren.  Everything is going to be different now.  Once the checks are cashed, everything will be legit.”

You see, Devin’s father had already distributed the cash from the sales of the diamonds to various wedding guest who would then write Devin and I checks to congratulate us on our happy marriage.  The money was clean, the amount was significant, the significant amount was justified by this joyous union of two people in love…and we were home free.

There was one small complication – Devin and I were now bound together for the rest of our days on this Earth.  Because when you get married, you don’t just marry the love of your life…you marry the family.

Devin’s father wrapped his arms around us just as “SHOUT!” began to play and I excused myself to the bathroom.  As I made my way through an ocean of smiles and congratulations, I looked to the red velvet cake Devin’s mother had ordered…and took the sterling silver wedding knife with me, tucking it between my tulle ballgown and smiling to myself.  After all, Asian women normally have red wedding dresses anyway…

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