"Tell you what. For the next game, I'll let you have the bride's role back."
I frowned. That word, let, scraped against my nerves like a nail on glass.
Before I could agree or refuse, Shirley was already reaching into the game box, pulling out a slip of paper, and reading it aloud.
"The bride must kneel before the groom and bark like a dog ten times, to demonstrate her absolute loyalty to her husband."
A beat of stunned silence. Then murmurs rippled through the group.
"Didn't we agree not to put any humiliating ones in there? Who wrote that?"
"Not me..."
"Wasn't me either..."
Shirley shot them an exasperated glare.
"Oh, hush. You all think it's humiliating, but maybe Kathy here thinks it's a treat."
"I mean, a gold digger like her just loves groveling to keep a man happy. Me? I could never. I have too much self-respect." She sighed theatrically.
Her gaze locked onto mine, a taunting smile curving her lips.
"Well, Kathy? You wanted to play games with Mr. Sanchez so badly, didn't you?"
"Go on then. Get on your knees and bark. Who knows, maybe if he's pleased enough, he'll toss you another twenty grand. Wouldn't want to miss an opportunity like that."
Neil sat through all of it without saying a word.
My eyes drifted to the red silk quilt beneath him, the one I'd chosen with such care. I hadn't even sat on it yet.
But their kiss had already crushed it into wrinkles.
Tradition said the wedding quilt had to be sat on first by the newlyweds together. A blessing for a happy marriage.
Just days ago, I'd been imagining it: wedding night, the two of us beneath that quilt, planning our future.
How unnecessary that all seemed now.
I shoved Shirley's arm away, cold and deliberate, and let a razor-thin smile cross my face.
"Miss Cobb, you're really too modest. The way you were flicking that tongue around just now? You've got every dog in town beat when it comes to licking. Doesn't seem like you need the practice at all."
"You're so good at playing the lapdog. Why don't you bark a few times first so I can learn from you?"
I'd grown up surrounded by the calligraphy and paintings of master artists. I'd recognized the handwriting on that slip of paper as Shirley's the moment I saw it.
Shirley's face flushed crimson, her voice dripping with wounded innocence. "Neil, how can she humiliate me like this..."
A glass of red wine came crashing down over my head.