Tossing my phone in my purse, I head in the direction of his house.
Our house.
The place where we now live together.
I'm still not used to the fact that we live together.
"Hey, babe," he says. His voice is shaky, unsure. What's going on with him?
"Hey," I reply, popping on my tiptoes and planting a kiss on his lips. "What's for dinner?"
"Lemon pepper chicken with risotto rice and sautéed peppers and onions."
He's avoiding eye contact.
"Okay, what's wrong with you?" I ask, hopping up on the counter so I can look in his eyes.
"Nothing. What did you want to talk about?"
Light bulb!
He thinks something is wrong.
I made him worry. About us. Maybe the wedding. Either way, I don't like it and it stops now. I've never given him a reason to be concerned before, and I don't plan on starting today.
"The wedding. I was talking to Em today and realize we may have skipped a step. I may have skipped a step. We never had an official engagement party. Do you think we need one?"
The light in his eyes returns as I speak. The weight he was carrying, the burden on his shoulder, melting away when he realizes that things between us are fine.
"Not really. We spent the holidays with everyone who's important to us. Plus, that’s one more thing to squeeze in before the wedding and there's not that much time."
He has a point. Why bothers celebrating our engagement when it's going to be such a short-lived thing?
"I don't think so either, but Em was pretty persistent. I guess it's a real thing. Do you mind if I give her the okay to plan something?"
"If she wants to, I don't care." Flipping the chicken to brown the other side, Ty spreads my legs and reaches into the drawer below where I'm sitting.
His hand trails up my thigh and rests there for a minute while he searches inside the drawer for what he needs. Acutely aware of how close he is to my special place, my body shutters just as he moves away, his hands empty.
He knew what he was doing, and he did it on purpose.
Sliding off the counter so he can't tease me anymore, I lean back and cross my arms over my chest, tugging my V-neck top down slightly so my cleavage is on full display. My turn to tease him a little.
"Do you think Vinnie might be able to come? I'd really like to meet him before the wedding. You've barely mentioned him, and now he's in the wedding, not that I care."
I've heard his name before, in stories from Ty's college years. He sounds like a fun guy, but he also sounds like the kind of guy that would take Ty to a strip club and get him laid. Or at least that's the kind of guy he used to be.
"Vinnie was one of my fraternity brothers. I actually hadn't talked to him in years until the morning I proposed." His confession catches me off guard. "He called me that morning.”
"Random."
"It was, but then again, Vinnie has a way of knowing when I need him."
"And you needed him that day?"
"I did," he admits, nodding his head. "I was headed to buy your ring, and Hunter couldn't come with me. Vinnie called as I was pulling out of the driveway, and he helped me pick out your ring."
"Over the phone?"
"Yep."
"That makes no sense."
Moving to stand in front of me, Ty wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me against him. "Trust me. When you meet him, you'll understand. He has a way of knowing things before they happen. He knew something big was about to happen in my life, and he called to say congratulations."
"I thought you didn't plan on proposing that night."
"I didn't, and I probably wouldn't have if it hadn't been for Vinnie. He told me to keep the ring in my pocket and wait for the perfect moment. I never thought it would be that night, but it was."
Melting into his embrace, I allow my body to sag against him. "It was perfect, wasn't it?"
"I wouldn't change a thing."
"What about a shower?" I ask, changing the subject before I forget what else I have to talk to him about. "Em also mentioned wanting to host the bridal shower for me sometime next month. That means we need to register for gifts. Wanna do that tomorrow?"
I can't imagine Ty in Bed Bath & Beyond, with a scanner in his hands, picking out home goods. It should be an interesting sight to see.
"I can't tomorrow. I need to spend a few hours at the office, but we can go this week after work one night. Or if you really want, you can take Em with you instead. I'm sure she'd be more help than me."
"Of course she would, but I don't care what color sheets she wants to sleep on. She's not the one sleeping next to me."
Looking over his shoulder at me, Ty raises his eyebrow and smirks. I know that look. It's his 'no one will be sleeping in bed with you but me' look. Otherwise referred to as his caveman look.
"How about Wednesday night, then?"
"Perfect."
Chapter Thirteen
With an 'ie' not a 'y.’
I've been chanting that in my head all damn day. Every time she walks into my office, it plays through my head. At first, I thought it was funny. It was even amusing when I told Ang and Ryder about it.
It's lost its appeal now.
Monday was the final straw.
Two hours. That's all it took for her to screw up in a major way.
She emailed the wrong client confidential information. She canceled a meeting that was important instead of the one that I was pushing back a week because I wasn't prepared for it yet.
I was ready to snap when I sent her to lunch at ten o'clock. It was all I could do to keep from firing her. That's when I marched down the hall, straight into Emerson and Justine's office without knocking and began begging.
At first, they both said no. Not because they didn't want to help but because they were finally starting to get busy themselves. Being the persistent man I can be from time to time, I asked every hour, on the hour.
By the time Macie returned from her three-hour lunch break, I'd worn them down. Justine came to my office to get a client file and as she was passing Macie's desk, she realized what a train wreck I was working with.
Clutter everywhere.
Confidential files out in the open.
Her computer screen had my calendar pulled up with clients’ contact information for anyone to see.
When I realized that Justine was outside my door but not coming in, I went to find out what was going on. What I saw, the look on her face and the anger in her eyes, has been my saving grace.
She was ripping into Macie.
I've never seen or heard Justine be rude or hateful toward anyone in her life, with the exception of that ex-bastard of her a few months ago. In that moment, she wasn't holding back. And Macie?
She was near tears, frantically cleaning up her desk and shoving folders in the filing cabinet.
It was a proud moment for me.
Justine turned out to be a great assistant because she was forced to be. There was no time for me to work with her. She figured the job out on her own for the most part. When things settled down and she was acclimated, she actually showed me a thing or two about being organized.
I miss working with her.
That's the big difference between Macie and Justine. Justine and I were a team. Macie is my employee.
For the past two days, Macie's been working one on one with Justine. Their primary focuses have been on organization and company policy.
My calendar is situated.
All the files are updated.
Macie's desk is straightened out.
She's even become better at prioritizing and multi-tasking. I didn't even realize those were things you would train someone to be.
"Justine," I call as she passes my office for the tenth time in the last hour.
"Yeah, boss."
"I'm not your boss anymore."
"Sorry. Old habits are hard to break."
"I just wanted to say thank you
. I really appreciate you sacrificing your time to help Macie. I'm already noticing a big difference in the flow around here."
"No problem. Had I known you were in this deep, I would have offered to help sooner. She has a good head on her shoulders, though, and wants to do her best. Give it a little time and you won't miss me anymore."
Not likely.
I holler after her as she walks out, waving over her shoulder at me.
Looking at my phone, I realize I need to get going. I promised Ang I would meet her to fill out our registry tonight. It's the only night I'll be able to sneak out early this week.
After Justine fixed my calendar, moving meetings around to accommodate the ones accidentally canceled, it looks like I'll be working late the next two days. That's fine with me as long as it doesn't become a permanent thing. I try really hard not to book meetings after three o'clock in case I need to make a last-minute addition.
"Macie," I say as I close my office door behind me.
She’s sitting at her desk, her back to me and headphones in. I tap her on the shoulder, startling her.
Pulling the headphones off, I hear music blasting from them until she presses a button on her phone.
"Sorry. I was trying to concentrate and there was too much activity going on around me. I hope you don't mind."
"Not at the end of the day, but make sure you can still hear the phone ring and the speaker if I call you for something." With her music that loud, she wouldn't have heard the fire alarm if it had gone off. "I'm headed out for the day. Once you’re finished with the McCloud file, please send it down to Ryder so he can work on his end of things."
"Will do, Mr. Dixon."
"Tyler."
"I'm sorry?"
"Please, call me Tyler. Mr. Dixon is my father."
"Oh, right."
My father always taught me to pick my battles carefully. This is one battle I want to win. It's been a fight since she started. For the next week, she'll remember to call me Tyler, but then she'll revert back, and we'll have this same conversation again.
I normally only fight battles I know I can win. This one may be a lost cause, but I can't give up. It's not in me.
Does it really matter what color our bedsheets are?
Do we actually need two sets?
And what is a dust ruffle anyway? I don't think I own one now, but according to Ang, we need one.
So we register for it.
Along with two sets of sheets, the matching comforters, and pillowcases.
Don't forget curtains. Those apparently have to match too.
Not that anyone will ever see our room. When I point that out to Ang, I open Pandora's Box. Now we have to register for another set of everything because we forgot to think about the guest bedroom.
An hour into the excursion, and that's putting it nicely, we've moved from bedding to the bathroom. I'm pretty sure we don't need this many towels in this many sizes, but I scan them anyway and keep my mouth shut. I also make sure to scan the matching rug and toilet cover. One set for each bathroom.
I swear, if we get even half of what I scanned tonight, we're going to need another house. Most of this shit we already have, or at least we have what we need. Some things we have two of since moving in together. New things are shiny and bright, though, so I keep scanning and following Ang around the store.
"What about these?" Ang asks, holding up a kitchen towel the color of poop.
Sadly, they match the color of the backsplash in the kitchen. It has something like seven shades of brown in a geometric pattern. All of which I'll now refer to as shades of poop in my head.
I should probably get new backsplash soon. I'll never look at it the same again.
"They'll match the backsplash," I say, looking away because I really want to laugh and I know that'll piss her off.
"Do you think this color is too dark, though? We could always go with a lighter shade of brown."
Poop.
All I can think about is poop. I hope no one buys us kitchen towels.
"Why not register for both and let our guests decide?"
The words pop out of my mouth before I can stop them. It's not the first time tonight I've said them, but it needs to be the last.
"Tyler Herman Dixon."
Shit. She's on to me.
"I have the strange feeling you don't like shopping with me."
When I find the courage to look in her direction, she's smiling at me.
She's not mad. Thank fuck.
"It's not my least favorite thing in the world, but only because you're here." Sliding up next to her, I pull her into my side and kiss the top of her head.
"And if I wasn't here?"
"I'd already have been kicked out."
Ang laughs before pulling me into the next aisle and continuing the torture. Not before promising to make it worth my while, though. That's what I love most about this woman.
She gets me.
Completely.
She knows I would do anything to make her happy and keep her happy, yet when I'm unhappy, she knows bribing me with sex will flip my switch. It also makes me anxious to get the hell out of here.
It takes us three hours to make it through the entire store and that's after I force Ang to stop looking around. She threatens to come back without me. Pretending to be wounded by her words, she swats my chest as I guide her back to the registry counter to turn in our scanning gun.
The ride home is unusually quiet. I can tell Ang has a lot on her mind. She's been focused on making final arrangements the last few nights, and with only ten weeks or so until the wedding, I'm finally starting to see how much everything is stressing her out.
"You all right? You're awfully quiet," I finally say as we come to a stop at the light down the block from our house.
Our house. I love saying it. I love thinking it.
"Yeah, just going over my mental checklist. I still have a few things I'd like to get done this week and a meeting with the photographer tomorrow night."
"Do I need to be there for that? I won't be out of work until after six o'clock."
"Nah. I already know I want to hire the guy. It's just the formality of meeting with him and going over the details of the day and financial stuff."
"Did you hire the DJ you met with yesterday?"
"Not yet. I told him I would call him tomorrow. He was a bit pricey, and I told him I was meeting with another guy. I'm going to try and talk him down a bit before committing."
"What if he won't budge?"
"Then I'll probably try and find someone else. He's the most expensive one I've talked to yet, but he's the best. I'd rather have someone who's almost as good and save money."
"You do realize that we can pay whatever we need to, right?"
"That doesn't mean we should have to."
And there's my girl. Always trying to rationalize spending money. I'm not sure why, it's not like our bank accounts are in danger of being depleted.
My father pays me more than I'm worth, it feels like, but the company's not hurting, so I don't say anything. I'm sure Ryder and Hunter feel the same way. None of us would ever question our father. It's not in our nature.
"So what can I help with then?" I offer as we pull into the driveway.
"You can pick the cake."
Hell yes. She knows how I feel about cake.
"Deal. What do you want it to look like?"
"I don't care. Just make sure it has our colors."
Colors? Colors? What the hell are our colors again? Damn, I'm going to make a horrible husband. I can't even remember what colors she picked. Did she tell me? I'm sure she did. She's told me everything so far and to be fair, I've listened. I'm not sure how she keeps all this straight. There's so much to remember.
It must be a girl thing. A bride thing.
"Write it all down and I'll give it to the baker. That way they don't mess it up."
There. Maybe she won't realize I have no idea what colors she picked.
&nb
sp; "Sure. Plus, I'd hate for you to forget what colors I picked. Again."
Busted.
"Remember that time you said that all I had to worry about was showing up on time?"
She was drunk. We were on vacation. I shouldn't be using her own words against her but I am. I'm a douche.
"I remember. I also remember you saying that you wanted to know everything and be involved."
Ang gets out of the car before I can reply.
I'm either in big trouble or she's joking with me. Her mood has been so up and down lately I can't tell.
When I find her in the kitchen, her bride book open and a pen in her hand, I pray she's making me a list and not angry.
"So does this mean you're making me a list?" I ask, leaning against the door frame.
"Of course. I can't even remember the names of the colors. I've been referring to them as dark purple, greenish and gray. They have actual names, though."
Rolling my eyes, the memory of her telling me comes back.
"Berry, teal and medium gray."
Ang whips her head in my direction, a scowl on her face. Making my way over to her, I stop behind her and wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her body against mine.
"How do you remember that?"
Shrugging my shoulders, I take the pen from her hand and toss it on the counter.
I'm going to make a great husband, but Ang is going to make an even better wife.
"I believe you promised you'd make shopping worth my while, wifey," I whisper in her ear, nibbling on it before turning her in my arms so she's facing me.
"Hmmm," she says, touching her finger to her chin and looking up at the ceiling like she's trying to remember. "Did I?"
Chapter Fourteen
Angela
If I thought I was in hell when looking at wedding dresses, this is so much worse.
Bridesmaid’s dresses are my new hell.
With no time for major alterations, I have to pick dresses that look good on all my bridesmaids. The fit has to be perfect. The length can't be too long or too short.
The problem is, none of my girls are even remotely the same size, height, or body type.
Emerson is the tallest of the three. At five feet ten inches, she may as well be a giant. All the dresses she's tried on are either really short or, if they're supposed to be long, they come to her calves.
Rumors: Angela & Tyler Page 9
