“As difficult as this is, we must do it tonight. With the wedding taking place this coming Saturday we have to get it done,” Jeff informed us as he jotted a few more notes.
“Back the fuck up,” I shouted. “What do you mean the wedding is this Saturday? No one told me that.”
“I was informed it was Saturday,” Jeff said, pushing his glasses up on his nose and frantically searching through his paperwork for confirmation. “Yes! Here it is. You are to be married on Saturday in… wait. That can’t be right.”
“What?” I yelled, wondering what other fresh Hell awaited me in the evil pile of paperwork.
“It says you’re getting married in the Devil’s Den. This must be a mistake.” Jeff wrung his hands and pulled out a cell phone.
“It’s correct.” I stopped Jeff before he called in an army of nerdy Angels to discuss the venue.
“The Devil has a den?” Ethan demanded, totally over the entire thing. “I thought we were at least married in the damned Palace.”
“We are,” I snapped. “Devil’s Den is just another name for Hell. Isn’t it?” I turned my attention to a very uncomfortable Jeff.
He nodded, clearly too shocked to speak.
“Listen,” I said as politely as I could, hoping we still had a chance to pass the ball and chain exam. “I cut a deal with Satan to close the portals that the douchecanoe Demons were pouring out of. My fist choice for the wedding was here at the Cressida House, but Satan is a crafty motherfucker so I had to agree to Hell.”
“I see,” Jeff said primly with his fingers steepled piously.
I was unsure if he was more offended by my colorful language or the fact I was tying the knot Down Under.
“Why don’t we get back to the thoughtful questions?” I begged.
I didn’t want Jeff here, but I really didn’t want him to leave. Failing was not an option.
“I’ll take Ethan’s shitty last name. Okay? Will that raise our grade?” I asked Jeff with a smile that resembled a grimace.
“No. I’ll take your last name,” Ethan volunteered.
“You would?” I asked surprised, glancing over at the love of my life with total adoration.
“Will it get me laid?” he inquired with a smirk.
“It will get you so laid,” I promised.
“About that,” Jeff cut in, clearing his throat loudly and turning an ungodly shade of purple. “That’s a big noperoonie. No-No.”
“What is?” Ethan asked in a voice so low and menacing I considered scooting closer to the door.
“S-E-X,” Jeff whispered and then glanced around warily as if he might get struck down by a bolt of lightning.
He didn’t have to worry about lightning, I was about to smite his freckled ass through the roof.
“Jeff, we’re already mated,” I said in what I prayed passed for a reasonable tone. However, I was pretty sure I might have been baring my fangs at him. “The wedding is more of a formality because I wanted a human ceremony. We already have a child.”
“Yes, I saw that in the file,” Jeff said with disapproval heavy in his tone. “Which leads me to the next question. Are you using the rhythm method?”
“We have good rhythm,” I replied carefully, not knowing what the Hell he was talking about.
How did a celibate Angel know sex terms I didn’t? I wasn’t about to let the nerdy virgin fail me for not knowing how to screw. I knew how to do the nasty and I was good at it—or at least I knew how to enjoy it and made damn sure Ethan did too.
“I mean sometimes it’s fast and sometimes it slow, but generally it’s very even. The beginning starts out a bit slower and then when we get close to the big O, it can get wild. Occasionally we break furniture, but not that often. Ethan is um… very… well endowed but that makes the rhythm much nicer and you know… bouncier. We don’t actually sing or anything, but we are noisy, y’know if that helps. Ethan says I’m a screamer and I’d have to concur with that one. Wouldn’t you agree, Ethan?”
Ethan was an assbucket and no help at all as he was bent forward, laughing hysterically. Jeff had gone an even deeper shade of purple and was gulping for air. It was at that point I realized rhythm had an entirely different meaning than I’d assumed.
Never fucking assume…
“We’re done,” I ground out through clenched teeth, reeling with embarrassment. I still had no clue what rhythm meant, but at this point I really didn’t care. I wanted Jeff gone and I wanted to throat punch Ethan.
“Rhythm is a form of birth control,” Jeff wheezed as he quickly shoved all of his paperwork back in his briefcase. “You should pick a form of birth control if you want to do family planning.”
“I’m dead, you imbecile,” I shouted, kicking a still laughing Ethan. “I can’t get pregnant.”
“Um…” Jeff scratched his head in confusion. “Did you adopt your child?”
I paused and let his question sink in. Ethan stopped laughing and stared at Jeff in surprise.
“No, it was prophecy—I’m the Chosen One. I shouldn’t have been able to have a child, but I did,” I told him.
“I see,” Jeff said. “What’s to say you couldn’t get pregnant again?”
“I don’t believe another child is in the prophecy,” Ethan said with a thoughtful expression.