Dee’s POV

“You don’t have to make a decision right now,” Wes had said, “but when you’re ready to give me your answer, text me.”

He said it all so casually, like marriage wasn’t a big deal. Like people did it every day.

“Let’s get married,” I said on my bed, Lancelot resting on my stomach as I fed him some mustard greens. “Do you believe this guy? Him—the asshole who stuck gum to the bottom of my pants on picture day—that guy. Do ...