Rumors: Angela & Tyler

by Rachael Brownell

  She smirks at the thought before shoving a bite of noodles in her mouth.

  "Please," I beg, reaching across the table for her hand, but she pulls it away.

  "You know how much I hate to be told I'm doing something. I hope you realize that this is not how our marriage will be. It's not your decision if I move in, it's mine. It pisses me off that you didn't talk to me about it before you talked to Ryder."

  She stops, letting out a huff.

  "But?" I ask, a note of hope in my voice.

  "But, I also don't like the idea of living alone anymore. Before Emerson, no big deal. Now I dread the thought. So yes, I'll move in with you, but I want you to remember that this is a partnership. We make decisions together, not for each other."

  She has a valid point. I respect Angela enough to allow her to make her own decisions. She's a strong woman, with a strong personality. She doesn't take shit from anyone, myself included. I should have talked to her first. Before I asked Ryder. Before I got the ball rolling.

  In my defense, which I'll keep to myself so this conversation can be over, I assumed we'd move in together eventually. Now that we're engaged, it seems like the right time. We're starting our life together after all.

  "I'm sorry, babe. I swear, it wasn't me trying to take control away from you. I forgot to talk to you about it. I'm glad you're moving in, as long as it's really what you want to do."

  Please let her want this as much as I do. I can't fathom even one morning waking up without her next to me until our wedding day.

  "Yes, I want to move in with you. I'm not sure why we haven't before now. I'm sure there are a million good reasons, but none of them seem important now. So, what's the plan?"

  Passing me my container of spicy Korean beef noodles, I fill Angela in on the plan for this weekend. Paul didn't have a problem with adding Ang's stuff to the truck. My house is on the way from her apartment to Ryder's place, so one quick off-load and then the guys will be off again.

  "It sounds like you and Ryder have things under control," she comments, a devious look in her eye.

  "We do. Why?"

  "Well, Em and I were hoping to spend the day meeting with more people, getting more quotes. I really want to find a venue so we can set a date."

  "Okay," I reply, my voice dragging the word out. "What about your stuff? What do you want them to do with it when it gets here? I was thinking you would want to move stuff around."

  "We can do that Sunday."

  "You know, we could just get married at the courthouse next week and I'd be a happy man." Smirking at Ang, she slowly stands and makes her way toward me. I shift in my chair so she can stand between my legs. When she bends down, bringing her face level with mine, I reach behind her and grip her ass, giving it a light squeeze.

  "I have a feeling your mother might kill me and you."

  A swift kiss and she's walking out of the kitchen, her phone pressed between her ear and the curve of her shoulder.

  "Em," I hear her say. "Saturday, after the apartment is empty, we have a lunch date. More wedding planning. You in?"

  Her voice fades as she makes her way up the stairs. As soon as I flip on Sports Center, Ang joins me on the couch, an old book in her hands. It looks like a photo album, but when she flips it open, I realize it's more than that.

  Silently she begins ripping pages out, making a pile on the couch next to her.

  "What's that?" My curiosity is piqued. And if I'm honest with myself, I'm kind of scared to know her answer.

  Everything is pink. Not soft pink. Not even a nice shade of pink. Hot pink. The flashy kind of pink that burns your eyes if you stare at it too long.

  "It's called a bride book. I made it a long time ago."

  "So... our wedding has been planned for how long exactly?"

  "More than a decade," she replies, nonchalantly.

  "If that's our wedding, why are you ripping pages out?"

  Please let her say she suddenly hates pink. I'd be sad about losing the cute nightie I bought her for Valentine’s Day last year, but that's about all.

  Ang laughs and rips another page out, setting it aside with the rest of the discarded. "I made this when I was a little girl." Rip, another page is cast aside. "Do you honestly think I want this as my bridesmaids’ dresses still?"

  Angela rips the top page out of the book and pushes it toward me. I take it and cringe at the sight of the hot pink, fluffy dresses. I really hope this isn't the look she's going for. Not that I'm an expert on dresses, but I know enough to know this is not a current trend.

  Current as in the last ten years.

  "Um, no?"

  "Exactly. So I'm consolidating. I'm taking this with me to lunch Saturday. Em and I are going to go through it. Some of this has to go; other stuff can stay."

  "And the hot pink?" I ask before I can stop myself.

  "Oh, that's going. I hate that shade of pink. It's too bright. I want a spring wedding, so I was thinking maybe teal, berry, and a medium gray."

  Berry? What the hell is the color berry? Is that pink or red or something in between?

  Actually, I don't care. I'm hoping the gray is for the guys. The rest isn't important. The only color I really care about it white. That's what Ang will be wearing.

  "Sounds great," I reply with more enthusiasm than necessary.

  Raising an eyebrow at me, Ang puckers her lips to hold back a laugh.

  "And if I had said hot pink?"

  "I might have asked for my ring back," I joke.

  "It's a good thing I grew out of that phase, then. You'd have to cut my hand off to get this back," she challenges, waving her hand around in front of my face.

  "So no pink, no fluffy dresses. What else is in there?"

  "You really want to know?"

  "Do I get a say?"

  "Of course. As long as you want one. It's your wedding too."

  "No babe. It's your special day. I'm going to be okay with whatever you decide to do. I just thought it would be nice to offer my help."

  Ang can have whatever she wants for our wedding. All she has to do it tell me what it is, and I'll make it happen. No matter the cost. No matter if I like it or not. All I want is her to be happy and enjoy her day.

  Chapter Six

  It's been four weeks since I asked Ang to marry me.

  Three weeks since she moved in with me.

  Our mornings are still stressful, but our evenings, when we crawl into bed together, make up for it. She hogs the bathroom and uses all the hot water, but she finally stopped yelling at me to put the toilet seat down. Probably because I remember most of the time now.

  We've become homebodies, spending most of our time cuddled up on the couch or cooking together.

  The first week was the hardest. Getting acclimated to having someone else around all the time and getting used to sharing everything.

  After all the boxes were emptied and Angela's things were put away, the house felt smaller. The closets were jam-packed. The bathroom cabinets were full of girly shit. The walls previously bare walls were adorned with framed photos and artwork.

  Looking around this morning, it feels more like a home than it ever has before. Even with the pink throw over the back of the couch and the scented candles on the coffee table. Angela's feminine touch is everywhere you look, and I love it.

  This is our home.

  "Ty!" Ang calls from the kitchen. "I need your help."

  Quickly lighting the candles she asked me to, I follow the clatter of pots and pans. Ang is sitting on the floor in the kitchen, digging through one of the many overflowing cabinets in search of something.

  "What are you doing?" I ask, leaning against the island.

  "I can't find my cast iron pot. The really big one. It's red. Weighs a ton. Any idea?" she asks, reaching back into the cabinet and pulling out two more pans.

  "I think we put that one in the basement. Want me to check?"

  "Please. I can't make the sauce without it."

  Smiling to
myself, I head to the basement in search of her sauce pot. Never mind there are three sauce pots sitting on the floor next to her right now. All of which would get the job done. If Ang wants the large, red pot, I'll find it for her.

  Today's a big day for her. For us. We're hosting everyone for the holidays. Instead of the traditional Christmas dinner, Ang wanted to make an Italian feast for our families. Something about "breaking bread" together for the first time. I'm thinking that's a metaphor, but I could be wrong. I know she actually made two loaves of bread yesterday.

  Heavy, red pot in hand, I return to the kitchen to find Ang with her head in the fridge, pulling out ingredients. She spent three hours at the farmers’ market with Emerson yesterday. She bought more tomatoes than I think she'll need, but I'm not complaining.

  She's making sauce from scratch. A family recipe handed down for generations.

  "Here you go, babe. Need a hand?"

  "Um," she begins, looking around the kitchen. Her eyes land on the pile of pots and pans on the floor before they return to me. "Can you make those fit in the cupboard again? And maybe pull out the nice china. And then—"

  "One thing at a time, babe. I'm going to put these in the pantry," I reply, lifting the pans. They're not going to fit back in the cupboard no matter how hard I try. I never liked the game Tetris, and I'd rather not start playing now. "After that, I'll set the table."

  "Thank you," she calls after me as I walk into the pantry.

  Making room on the shelf, I'm about to reach for the china when my phone vibrates in my pocket.

  VINNIE: Hey, man. Can't make it tonight. Stuck in Cali.

  ME: No problem.

  Do I ask him in a text? Call him? It feels impersonal, but I doubt he cares. He already said he'd be here to stand up for me.

  VINNIE: Don't worry. I won't miss the wedding. Promise.

  And there's the opening I need.

  ME: Good because I'll look like a loser if you're not up there with me.

  VINNIE: Awe, Ty Ty, are you asking me to be in your wedding?

  Ty Ty. I hate when he calls me that and he knows it. One chick, one time, and that damn nickname stuck to me like Gorilla Glue.

  ME: Call me Ty Ty again and I'll retract the offer.

  VINNIE: You know you love it. Plus, it's a reminder to never date crazy chicks.

  ME: I learned my lesson. Have you?

  VINNIE: Not yet but I'm working on it.

  ME: Oh yeah? You bringing someone to the wedding?

  VINNIE: Nah. What if I meet someone? Then I have to ditch my date. Too much drama.

  If he meets someone at the wedding, I'd be surprised. Our guest list is small, and I can't imagine there will be many single people there. Aside from Allison. I'll have to warn him about her. She'd destroy his fun-loving nature. I can't have that. Plus, she's been talking nonstop about bringing a date.

  ME: Let me know if that changes. So is that a yes? You willing to stand up for me?

  VINNIE: Hell yes!

  ME: Thanks, man. Gotta help Ang get ready for tonight. Talk to you soon.

  VINNIE: Later.

  Sauce is already bubbling on the stove and Ang is putting together the appetizer plate when I walk back in the kitchen. Leaving her to it, I begin setting the table.

  "How many people again?" I ask after counting family members on my fingers, twice, and getting a different answer each time.

  "Seventeen."

  Looking at the two tables set up in the crowded dining room, I try to configure how to fit that many people without squishing everyone.

  "I have eight at each table. That's the best I can do," I say to Ang as she places a platter of appetizers on each table.

  "I guess I'll have to sit on your lap then."

  "I like that idea." Smirking at her, I make my way around the table to where she is, but she matches my moves. "Where are you going?"

  "I have dinner to cook and you need to figure out how to make another person fit or maybe you can sit in Vinnie's lap. I hear he like any action he can get."

  "Ha! Vinnie won't be here. That makes sixteen." Ang frowns at my excitement. "He can't make it, but he'll be at the wedding. I asked him to stand up for me and he agreed."

  "What about his gift?"

  Ang insisted we buy gifts for everyone in the wedding. I don't disagree with her idea, I just figured we'd give them to them on our wedding day. What do I know about weddings, though?

  "I can mail it to him. Next time I talk to him I'll get his address."

  When she turns to head back in the kitchen, I make my move. Sliding between the tables, I wrap her in my arms and spin her around.

  "Tyler, stop. I have food to cook," she scolds, swatting at my hands. "Everyone's going to be here soon, and I need to get things in the oven."

  "Fine, but I will have my way with you later."

  "Ew!"

  Jill. I'd know that high-pitched, obnoxious squeak anywhere.

  Angela's entire family is early. Two hours early to be exact. Along with her parents and siblings are their significant others. Both avoid eye contact with me. I haven't seen either of them since the night I ripped into them. They better not pull anything like that tonight or I'll be throwing them out on their ass.

  The girls join Ang in the kitchen while the guy’s head into the living room to watch football. I'm torn between being close to Ang and watching football. In the end, I don't have to choose. My parents show up, followed closely by Devon and Justine, and I'm stuck playing host.

  No football. No hanging out with my fiancée. I get to run between everyone and make sure they're happy.

  Why did we decide to do this again?

  Why do I want this many people in our house at once?

  Oh yeah. Family meeting family. Celebrating the holiday together. Breaking bread, as Ang would say.

  Most importantly, the wedding stuff. Everyone we're asking to be in the wedding is here tonight or was invited. That's a lot of people in one house. Add the rest of the family... organized chaos.

  By the time Ryder and Emerson walk through the door, I'm ready to open every window and let in the bitter cold air. It's getting stuffy in here. There aren’t enough places for people to sit. For the first time ever, I wish my house was more open like Ryder's. Maybe even large like my parents’ house.

  Hunter and Brianna are the last to arrive. I can tell something is off, but Hunter shoots me a warning glare before I can ask. We'll talk later. I have a feeling that whatever is going on isn't good.

  When I head into the kitchen to grab a beer for Hunter, all thoughts of a bigger house leave me. Angela fits in here perfectly. This is her kitchen. Her house. It's everything I dreamed it would be and with her here, it feels like more than I deserve. Watching her move around effortlessly has the front of my pants tightening.

  How much longer is everyone going to be here?

  An hour later, Ang corrals everyone into the dining room announcing that dinner is served. The rich aroma of melted cheese and tomato sauce fills the air. The antipasto spread of cured meats, olives and cheeses is almost gone, so I begin filling my plate with the leftover and clear the platter from the table. Not before loading everything onto a wedge of crusty bread and shoving it in my mouth first.

  "Tyler Herman Dixon," my mother gasps. "You know better than that."

  Nothing like being scolded by your mother to quiet an entire room and garner everyone's attention. It was the use of my full name, I'm sure. Not that I can defend myself. I can barely move my jaw enough to chew. Instead, I smile and rush into the kitchen.

  Ang is right behind me with the other empty tray. "I don't think there's enough food," she says, reaching into the oven to pull out the braised beef that's been teasing me all day.

  "Send them all home, then. You and I will have our own feast."

  "Not funny. Can you please bring this in the dining room while I grab the gifts and another basket of bread?"

  Kissing her on the cheek as she shoves the beef toward me,
I feel her smile. She likes my idea and had she not spent all day in the kitchen making food, she may have even entertained it.

  Clearing my throat to get everyone’s attention when Ang walks back in the dining room, all eyes turn to me so I can make the speech I've been practicing the last few days. According to Ang, I had to make a speech. My brothers both know this is coming, no reason to make a big deal out of it. The girls, however... Ang needed to make it special.

  "Angela and I appreciate each and every one of you for being here tonight. This is the first time our families have spent a holiday together, and we hope it won't be the last. Tonight is also a special occasion for us as we'd like to make a few announcements about the wedding.

  "First, we want you to know that we plan to keep things small and intimate. As much fun as a large wedding sounds, it's really not our style. Second, there are a few of you that'd we like to ask to be a part of the wedding. Ang, you want to go first?" I ask, turning to find her standing behind me with a huge smile on her face.

  "Sure."

  Pulling three jewelry boxes from the bag she's holding, Ang walks over to her sister and asks her to be in the wedding. She agrees, they hug, and Ang hands her the gift we picked out for her.

  Next up is Brianna. She seems genuinely surprised that Ang is asking her to be a part of the wedding. They haven't hung out much lately, but they've grown close over the last few years. Angela is one of the only people Brianna confides in when it comes to her issues getting pregnant. When they embrace, I see tears in Brianna's eyes as they meet mine.

  Looking to Hunter, he once again shakes his head at me.

  If there was any doubt before that something was going on, it's faded away. If I had to guess, their appointment earlier this month must not have turned out the way they had hoped. It hurts my heart to think that Brianna is hurting, but there's nothing I can do about it.

  By the time Ang reaches Emerson, making her way around the table slowly, they’re both already crying. I'm sure she picked up on the fact that Ang hasn't asked anyone to be her maid of honor. That spot is reserved for Emerson. I knew that the moment I saw them together. Those two are the best of friends. Nothing will ever come between them.