Beyoncé Knowles can't believe her annoyingly perfect personal assistant has actually resigned from her cushy, highly paid position, and she intends to tell her exactly what she thinks about it.
But when she gets to her place, she comes to realize s...
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"I have an idea."
Beyonce lifted a brow as Blue adjusted her light blue tie. She was better than her at making the knots just right.
"You should propose tonight, right after Aunt Ariana and Uncle Dalton leave. That way, no one else gets to distract you."
Bey winced. "Well, probably not the best idea. You remember what I said about her thinking I want to do it just because our friends are getting married? Proposing at a wedding would definitely make her feel that way. Besides, it's tacky."
Blue's look made her look fifteen, not ten. "Beyonce, you've had a box in your jacket for five years. It's verging on pathetic."
"You're verging on getting grounded," she shot back, grimacing at her.
She grinned. "Truth hurts, don't it?"
"So do headlocks. Want me to show you?"
She proceeded to attempt to strangle her, or make her laugh herself to death, one of the two.
She'd taught plenty of self-defense moves to Blue over the last few years. Five minutes later, when Nicki joined them in the lounge in her lavender silk bridesmaid dress, they were wrestling on the floor, Blue wrapped around her in a way that actually would have kept her pinned down if she were a little heavier.
When the teen years were upon them, Blue would be ready to kick ass. Nicki half groaned, half laughed. "You're going to mess up your hair."
"She started it!" Blue said, getting up.
She rushed to the nearest mirror to check her hair, which was still in it's straightened state.
"You called me a coward."
"Well, you are."
The kid was going to be the death of her.
"Be nice. Both of you." Nicki adjusted her lapels as she got up. "Is Harry here yet?"
"We were just waiting for you, princess."
She truly looked like a princess right then, her hair pinned up in a sophisticated updo. She wore more jewels then she ever did, for once showing off some of the parures she bought her every year for Valentine's Day. She preferred family trips for Christmas, and Nicki all but ignored her birthday. She allowed restaurants and little presents like books and homemade things, nothing more.
Valentine's Day was the one holiday where she could spoil her like she wanted to. Mostly because she always forgot about it, and didn't think to tell her not to buy her anything.
She'd never met anyone less materialistic, although she'd been raised in the same world she had. All that mattered to her was Blue. Blue and her.
Harry drove them to the Hamptons--the Gomez's were getting married upstate, in a beautiful private garden. The setting looked worthy of fair tales.
She grinned when Blue walked in, carrying a basket full of pale petals she sprinkled on the grass. When the bride walked up the aisle in her satin dress with translucent lace back, her eyes were set on the gorgeous, sweet, and sexy woman walking behind her.
Her girlfriend.
She hated that word. Sixteen-year-olds had girlfriends. It was so fucking juvenile.
Ariana and Dalton's vows were ridiculously geeky, full of half-innuendos Blue could see through, and sweet enough to make half the audience cry.
Then they were proclaimed man and wife, and Mrs. Gomez called for a fucking toast.
Through the entire ceremony, Beyonce stared in Nicki's brown eyes, never letting go.
When it was finally over, she was the first to look away, blushing.
But she got it. She understood that look. She had to believe she had.
Maybe Blue had a point. Maybe she should just propose. Tonight before she found another reason not to.
