(THIRD BOOK in the Golden Girl Series)
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"Till death do you part?" The priest finishes off with.
"I do," I answer - knowing how ready I am to die with this man.
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You've been on Amber Marigold's journey since she arrived at Tygerwell. Now join...
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"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck, my head hurts."
I push myself up and stare out in front of me. How the hell did I end up on top of the kitchen counter? And when did I blackout last night? Bright daylight from the large window across from me blind me for a moment and I lift my hand up to shield my eyes. I can smell toast and something a bit more sour... When I look down, I notice that I have puke all over my buttoned shirt. Oh, great. Nice going, Willaim - as my Dad would say.
"You're awake," I hear a familiar voice behind me.
I look over my shoulder and it's Daniel making himself toast on the same counter I'm currently sprawled across. He's showered and dressed in an expensive black turtleneck - making his already dark lashes stand out even more. Why have I never seen him this put together before? He's usually just... A mess?
"How are you not dying of a hangover right now?" I ask.
"I didn't join in on the fun you lot had last night. I just went to bed early," Daniel says as he starts to butter his toast. "Someone else was hogging all the butter, you see."
I nod, even though I have no idea what the hell this guy is talking about. "Uh, okay, so, do you know where my wheelchair is?" I ask.
"Yes, over there. In the living room," Daniel says and points across the large kitchen area. I look over and sure enough, my wheelchair is toppled over by the hearth. "You and Bagpipes were riding around in that thing all night long," he adds, "Before you threw a fit and cried that is."
I cried? I really don't remember crying last night. Deciding to ignore, the crying bit, I look over at Daniel a bit awkwardly. "Could you... could you maybe br-"
"You got two feet, go get it yourself," Daniel interrupts. He takes a bite of his toast before he walks over to the coffee machine. "And I'd hurry up if I were you," he says, "After I finish my coffee, we're leaving."
Well... I guess I do have two feet?
They just don't... work.
I sigh before giving up and falling back down. I look up at the kitchen lights and try rubbing the permanent frown from my brow. I can hear the coffee machine hiss and steam - adding fuel to my already raging headache. Does Daniel have no sympathy for me? I don't understand why he hates me so much. I don't ever remember doing something to piss him off. I take in a deep breath before deciding not to worry too much about Daniel.
