I stared at my father, waiting—praying—for him to say just kidding, or relax, hijo, I was just messing with you.
But of course, he just stood there, arms crossed, looking smugger than a cat that just knocked a vase off the table.
I rubbed my temples. "What sort of verdict was that?" I asked, exasperated. "That doesn't even make sense!"
My father raised a brow. "Explain."
I gestured wildly, as if that would somehow make him understand the sheer stupidity of what he'd just said. "You don't just get married for the sole purpose of producing children! This isn't medieval Spain! What's next? You're going to start arranging marriages between infants so they can secure alliances for the pack?"
"Axel." His voice dropped in warning, but I was too far gone to care.
"No, seriously," I continued, pacing now, "what if I don't even like Rosa? What if she doesn't like me? What if…"
