At the wedding, two guys cried their eyes out: my dad and Chi Yan. Dad got it together after Mom smacked him twice. But Chi Yan? He was misty-eyed the moment I walked out in my dress and choked up during our vows. I'd rehearsed the vows with him for two weeks, worried I'd cry in front of everyone. Never thought it'd be him. He'd sworn if he shed a tear, he'd do three months of chores. I ran through every sad memory to keep from laughing. I swear, it wasn't at him—I was just stoked about no housework. Finally composed, I looked up to see him staring, eyes blazing. Busted. I flashed a sheepish smile. "I wasn't laughing at you, don't get it twisted." "…Don't play innocent. Hold it in, or I'll have to give you CPR." That line sounded familiar. Not backing down, I shot back, "Well, don't cry, or I'll have to baby you." He chuckled softly. That night, after the reception, he claimed he owed me a "first wedding kiss." The jerk bit me. I glared. "Chi Yan, you bite me? You're done." He grinned, eyes twinkling. "Bite me back?" Psh, reverse psychology. Think I won't? I did. And then—I was the one in trouble.