“Not Reed?” I teased.
Sam blushed. “Yeah, well, him too. He’s already planning a big honeymoon for us over Christmas break.”
“That sounds like fun.”
“Being married to Reed is fun, and not just because of the S-E-X,” Sam whispered.
“I heard that too, Samantha Marie,” Sarah yelled. She must have cat ears. Good to know.
Sam shook her head at her mother. “Don’t get me wrong, that part is good. More than good.” Her cheeks glowed.
“So I read on your blog.”
Sam waved me off with a cat-like grin. “Seriously though, he’s my partner in every sense of the word.”
I knew exactly how she felt. Peter was my best friend.
“Enough talk about men. Please tell me you will come to my book signings. If you and Avery come, at least I know two people will be there.”
“Of course I’ll come.” Though Chad was in my head telling me not to. “I predict a line out the door.”
“I doubt it.”
“Mark my words.”
She let out a huge breath. “How did I ever get here? I guess I can thank Autumn Moone.” She laughed.
I could only nod with a pressed-lipped smile. What did I say? What I wanted to say was we could both blame Autumn Moone for the lives we were leading. “Do you ever wish she wouldn’t have posted your blog?”
Sam rubbed her lips together and thought, making me more nervous of her answer. She let out a meaningful sigh. “When I receive negative comments or people I don’t know think they have every right to judge me, at those times I wish for my quiet life back. But . . . in a weird way, she gave me confidence to be who I am. To give Reed a chance. For that I can’t thank her enough.”
Internally I breathed a sigh of relief. Outwardly I squeezed her hand. “I’m glad she did.”
~*~
Amid all the chaos and me staying up way too late trying to make my deadline, an interesting thing happened. Perspective. Wednesday night before I left to help at the shelter and then attend my “class,” Peter was giving me a much-needed long kiss goodbye in the kitchen. We were hiding from the women who were now perpetual fixtures in our home.
Peter had me backed up against the counter, his arms employed to hold me as tightly against his body as they could. His warm mouth crushed my own while his tongue teased my lips to part. I was in the middle of enjoying the taste of Peter and his hands all over my curves when we heard a cleared throat. I told you, cleared throats were never good. We reluctantly pulled apart, not really caring we had been caught kissing in our own home.
Peter groaned and turned around. That was about as annoyed as he ever behaved. He took my hand and we faced his mom together. It was the first time all week she scowled, but she made sure to recover from it quickly, raising my suspicions yet again. But then she made me doubt my doubts about her.
“We’re leaving,” Sarah informed us.
“Do you need help taking anything out?” Peter asked.
Sarah gave her precious boy a big smile. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
“Okay, let me finish saying goodbye to Delanie before she leaves for the shelter.”
“Shelter?” Sarah’s face scrunched with the question.
“Delanie volunteers at a women and children’s shelter every week.”
A wash of astonishment fell over Sarah’s face. She stared at me as if she had never seen me before. “What do you do there?” Her tone bordered on skeptical.
“A little of everything—playing with the children, helping women with resumes, cleaning. It depends on the week.”
Red appeared in Sarah’s cheeks as if she was embarrassed. What did she have to be embarrassed about?
“I had no idea,” Sarah stuttered.
That’s when it hit me. We didn’t know each other at all. I had watched her for three days interact with what seemed like nice women, and guess what? They all liked her a lot. She laughed with them and gave advice, even comfort when one lady mentioned that her dad was diagnosed with dementia. She was nothing like the woman who had no issue showing me how much she didn’t like me. I also caught a glimpse of how much she really wanted to do this for her daughter. To show Sam and Reed off. She spoke several times of how proud she was of Sam and all she had accomplished, and what a fine catch Reed was.
There Sarah stood looking at me with the same bewilderment I felt toward her. For the first time, I think she was truly questioning if she knew who I was. And for the first time, I saw her as more than my enemy.
Chapter Fifteen
The chaos was finally coming to an end, but it was culminating in my house with me wearing a ridiculous pale green dress. Sarah had gotten it in her head that this was a real reception and Avery and I were acting as the bridesmaids, plus we all needed to match because Sarah and Joseph wanted family pictures.
I stood in front of the mirror in our bathroom, appalled at the silk gown that draped my body. I’d never worn silk or an evening gown before. It didn’t really go with the nose ring or tattoo. Sarah may have politely asked that I not wear my diamond stud; I more than politely refused. Sarah tsked before Joseph elbowed her, making a forced smile appear on her face.
Peter walked up from behind me, looking handsome in a dark suit with a silly floral tie to match my dress. All the Decker men were up in arms over the choice of tie, but Sarah wasn’t backing down. I swore she purchased all this stuff as soon as she had heard that Sam was engaged back in June. There was no way she pulled this all together in a week’s time.
Peter smiled with delight while he perused me.
“I know. I look absurd.”
Peter ran his fingers down my arm. “Your skin is always so soft.”
“You’re saying I do look ridiculous?”
He laughed and turned me around to face him. “I never said or thought such a thing.” He played with one of the curls that outlined my face. “You’re stunning.”
“I look like someone played dress up with me.”
He leaned in and brushed my lips. “Can we play dress down later?”
“Are you trying to seduce your wife?”
“Yes.” He nuzzled my neck. “Is it working?”
“If you keep doing that, we’re going to be late, if that answers your question.”
“Mmm,” he groaned against my skin. “Tempting.” He planted a few more kisses on my neck before meeting my eyes. “I suppose we should go downstairs.”
I grabbed a hold of the lapels on his jacket and pulled him to me with a sultry smile. “I’m not opposed to being late.”
I barely saw the passion flare in his gorgeous green eyes before his mouth crashed into mine.
“Peter!” Sarah yelled from downstairs. Wow, could her voice carry.
Peter stopped mid-kiss, not sure what to do. “Sexy wife,” he whispered against my lips, “or Ma’s wrath?”
I skimmed his lips, running my fingers through his styled hair.
“Sexy wife it is,” he whispered with pleasure.
“Peter!” Sarah screeched again.
We both sighed in defeat, knowing we better get down there before she came up here.
Peter took my hand and led me downstairs. I smoothed his hair as we went. Did I also mention I was wearing heels? My feet were in shock and questioning whether we should traverse the stairs. I was a barefoot kind of woman, and if I had to wear shoes I preferred sandals. Winters were rough when I had to wear boots. I stopped Peter at the top of the steps. We both stared down at the sparkly gold heels I had been forced to wear. It was there I reminded myself I was still me. I may have given up my home for the week, making my manuscript late—I gave Chad nine chapters, not ten last night before the stroke of midnight. He wasn’t happy about it until this afternoon when I received a text, saying, Best damn thing you’ve ever written. Now quit acting like Colin Cowie; I need to know what happens between Laine and Hunter. I had to ask who Colin Cowie was. Apparently, he was Oprah’s event planner. Why Chad thou
ght I would know that I had no idea. But despite all my acquiescing for the week, I had to draw the line.
I stepped out of the heels that were holding my feet hostage and making me as tall as my six-foot-tall husband. Peter laughed when I ditched them by the stairs but didn’t say a word about it as we walked down together amongst the tulle. Lots and lots of ivory tulle entwined with twinkle lights lit up our staircase. As I looked out, our entire downstairs seemed to be twinkling. And somehow a flower garden had sprouted amongst a café. There were several tables and chairs filling our great room. Bryan Adams music drifted in the background, per Sam’s request. He was her favorite artist and Reed had proposed to her in the grocery store while Bryan Adams played.
Peter squeezed my hand. “Do you regret we never had a reception?”
My face crinkled at the thought. “I’m counting my lucky stars we didn’t.”
“Hmm,” Peter responded.
“Did you want one?”
He shrugged. “It would have been nice to show off my new bride. Maybe it could have eased tensions back then.”
I never knew he felt that way. And it wasn’t like his parents offered to throw one. Cat and Ron certainly would have never thought about it. They believed marriage was now a dead institution. They claimed the only reason they got married was because society many years ago forced them to if they wanted any credibility. I never found that reason credible. For many years I agreed marriage was a pointless endeavor, but I had obviously been proven wrong.
“You never said anything.”
He pulled up my hand and kissed it.
We didn’t get to say more on the subject because his mother appeared at the bottom of the stairs wearing a typical mother of the bride suit in beige. Her gray hair was in an updo. “There you are. Dad wants you to see the backyard before everyone arrives.” Sarah’s eyes dropped to my bare feet that barely peeked out under the long gown. “Where are your shoes, Delanie?” She said my name without cringing. She was getting better at it.
“Heels aren’t my thing.” I kept my voice light.
Sarah’s left eye started to twitch, but she reigned it in along with her frown. “Well, maybe you can put them on when we do pictures.”
“Maybe.” I smiled while we walked past her.
She didn’t say another word on the subject as we headed toward the back door. We had to weave in and out of several people dressed in white shirts and black pants prepping and setting out food that I knew I didn’t make; it smelled incredible and looked pretty on all the crystal platters. There was a table set up in our breakfast nook that held the large cream-frosted cake with black roses trailing along one side. I had to admit, if I ever had a wedding cake, that would be it. Black roses? Yes, please. The cake was striking amongst all the cupcakes placed around it as if they were worshipping the mighty frosted god that towered above them all.
The three of us walked out the back door to find Joseph waiting for us in a suit and tie that matched Peter’s, except Joseph’s white shirt was barely holding in his gut. Joseph could hardly contain his excitement. He took my hand and pulled me out onto our natural stone patio that had been transformed. A charcoal gray rattan patio furniture set had been added and several pots of green plants in all sizes made it look like a magazine layout. Around the patio, Joseph had planted black dahlias that looked like hundreds of dark starbursts. Forget the black roses, the dahlias that were the deepest shade of burgundy were beyond beautiful. The yard was also fully landscaped with full moon maples, picked especially for their name, and the white firs, not to mention other flowering shrubbery that Joseph thought would look good. He was right.
“What do you think?” Joseph stood next to me, admiring his handwork.
“It’s gorgeous.” I hugged him without thinking. Something I had never initiated before with him.
He wasn’t awkward like me and reciprocated instantly.
“Thank you,” I whispered against him.
“My pleasure.” He kissed my cheek.
Peter and Sarah joined us. Sarah gave me an appraising sort of look as if she was holding off judgment. I could live with that. Peter patted his dad on the back. “Did you rent the furniture?”
Joseph’s ears pinked while giving Sarah a glance. “We thought since we never bought you a wedding gift, we should.”
Sarah stood stoic with a blank expression, making me wonder if it was a mutual gift.
Peter hugged his mother and she clung to him as if he was going off to college and she wouldn’t see him for months. Peter held onto her just as tight. Guilt wriggled in my stomach. They weren’t going to miss each other, they had been missing each other, all because of me.
“Thank you,” I said to everyone and no one, really. “I better get back in and . . .” And what? I wasn’t in charge of this party and the only thing I wanted to do at that moment was lock myself in my office and bleed my feelings out onto my computer, but that wasn’t an option. It didn’t matter; I turned around anyway and let my bare feet take me across the cool stone back into the chaos ensuing in the home I didn’t even recognize as my own.
I was so glad the first people I ran into were Sam and Avery, who had arrived in all their glory. And they were glorious. Sam was in an ivory lace gown that showed off how hard she had been working out. It wasn’t a wedding dress, per se, but she fit the part of blushing bride. Avery wore the same dress as me but did it more justice —the pale green suited her more and she had glammed up for the night with her hair swept to one side in a classic twist. Her all-American-girl look was made for the evening gown.
“Are you okay?” Avery asked.
I looked down at what I was wearing and put on a game face. “As good as I’m going to get in this,” I lied. But I didn’t know how to explain how I was really feeling at the moment.
They both laughed.
“Says the gorgeous, ethereal creature every woman wished she looked like,” Sam said. She always paid me compliments like that. I was never sure how to respond. Growing up, Cat told me it was a shame I was so pretty; no one would ever take me seriously. I meant to prove her wrong and always downplayed how I looked. I even got a pair of nonprescription glasses in high school so I looked more studious. Do you know how many guys found that attractive? More than I imagined.
“I look like I lost a dare.”
“We all did,” Sam lamented. “Where’s the alcohol, by the way?”
We didn’t get a chance to find out. All the Decker men descended upon us, along with the matriarch who was still clinging to my husband when they walked in the back door. She only let go of him because he gravitated toward me and she was distracted by how handsome all her grandsons looked. She doted over them the way a grandma should, kissing their cheeks and hugging them. I still wondered how she would treat a child of Peter’s and mine. Were we really on the path to make things right between us? Would Peter no longer have to choose between the women in his life?
We were also joined by the Cassidys, Reed’s parents who I had to say were the “it” couple. They had both maintained their figures and had unusually smooth skin for their ages and fabulous jawlines. No sagging necks, not even a trace of loose skin. They were retired and lived in Wisconsin. Oddly, they resembled the Mr. and Mrs. Black in my books. I suppose that was fitting since Hunter’s looks were based on Reed. The parents of the groom looked happy to be there and gushed over how lovely their new daughter-in-law was. I envied the easy relationship Sam automatically had with her in-laws.
“As soon as Linda arrives with Mimsy, we’re going to take pictures,” Sarah announced.
I wasn’t sure who Linda was, but I hoped she knew what she was getting into picking up Mimsy and her lover, Giovanni. By the several snickers in the group, I wasn’t the only one thinking along those lines.
I took note that James was behaving like his normal self. He held Avery close to him and only had eyes for her. They truly were a stunning couple. The kind that made people envious, that showed that age was only
a number and the forties could be fabulous.
It wasn’t long before Mimsy arrived like the ushering in of the apocalypse. We all knew we were in for a show, but none of us were prepared for figurative carnage, and by that I meant how we all were dying inside, some of us with laughter and others—like Sarah—with mortification, when Mimsy and her lover arrived. What could I say? They were, um . . . well . . . furry. And I had to think very hot. It was August, after all, and though the evenings were getting cooler, it was still very warm.
Mimsy and Giovanni came strolling in through the entryway and great room like a geriatric knockoff of Kanye West and Kim Kardashian. They were draped in black fur and dripping in what I could only think were fake diamonds. If they were real, they should have had an armed escort with them. Mimsy’s coat was too big for her tiny frame and she had a harder time than normal walking, making it look like she was carrying a dead animal on her back. Giovanni, on the other hand, was tall and walked with authority for someone of his age. And though his face was wrinkled, his bald head was unnaturally shiny. It had to be from some type of oil, or maybe it was the reflection of all the bling around his neck.
I looked up at Peter who was in as much shock as me. No words passed between us because there hadn’t been any invented to fully articulate the sight before us. For a moment no one spoke. Even the catering employees all froze in wonder, perhaps terror. And poor Linda, who had had the displeasure of picking them up, wandered in looking like the dryer in a carwash had hit her and scared her witless.
It was a horrifying sight, especially for Sarah, who found some words to say.
“Mom, why aren’t you wearing the dress we picked out for you?”
The better questions would have been, do you know how many animals had to give their lives for that coat? And what tween girl’s jewelry box did you raid? Or probably most important, did you overdose on your medication? But this wasn’t my circus. I was only providing the space for all the flying monkeys to land.
Giovanni looked affronted that no one greeted him first. He took matters into his own hands, which were covered in gigantic ice rocks, and didn’t let Mimsy answer. He ran his hand over his bald head like he had forgotten he no longer had hair and flashed us a smile full of dentures. “I’m Giovanni Smith.” Smith? Why did I think her Latin lover was more like a Midwestern liar? His accent was all Chicago. Not a trace of Italian. “My girl,” he wrapped his arm around Mimsy’s waist, “she ain’t going to wear nothing but the best.”
The Secretive Wife (More Than a Wife Series Book 2) Page 12
