“Yeah,” I say, leaning against the counter. I look over at Laney who has her arms wrapped around her waist. I lean over, hugging her shoulders and bringing her close to me, then kissing the side of her head. She looks up at me and smiles, wrapping her arms around my waist.
My mother smiles at us and claps her hands. “We should go out for brunch,” she says, and I look down at Laney.
“Want to go out for brunch?” I ask her.
“Sure, that sounds great.” She smiles at me and then my mother. “I’m going to go get dressed,” she says, walking away from me and almost running up the stairs.
“She is gorgeous,” my mother says. “Good thing you got your head out of your ass.”
I shake my head at her, kissing her cheek again, then I walk up the stairs to the bedroom. Walking into the room, I see Laney walking around the room. “Hey,” I say, and she turns to me.
She holds up her hand with the black scrap of lace I ripped off her. “How the hell am I supposed to go to brunch with your mother when I have no panties?” she says, and she doesn’t give me a chance to answer because she paces around the room, picking up her clothes. “This is almost as bad as doing the walk of shame the next morning.”
“Laney,” I say, smiling at her that she’s nervous, but she doesn’t look at me while she pulls my T-shirt off and stands in front of me shirtless. I look at her and lick my lips.
“Are you out of your mind?” she says. I look at her confused. “You can’t even think of touching me with your mother downstairs. Your mother who doesn’t look like a mother, by the way. She looks like a goddamn runway model.” She continues talking, clipping on her bra and turning it to pull it up over her arms. “I thought she was an ex.”
“I’ve never brought anyone here,” I tell her. “I’ve actually never had a relationship.”
She stops moving. “What do you mean? Like you never had a girlfriend?”
“Don’t get me wrong,” I say, going to her. “I’ve dated, just not exclusively.” I grab her hips. “Now don’t freak out. Get dressed, and let’s go have brunch with my mother.”
“What if she doesn’t like me?” she whispers. “What if she thinks I’m a hussy?”
I throw my head back and laugh. “You are not a hussy.”
“I’m wearing your clothes the day after.” She puts her arms around my waist. “That screams hussy.”
“Get dressed, Laney,” I tell her, and she just nods at me. “After brunch, we’ll go to your house and grab some stuff.”
“Okay,” she says and walks to her skirt, picking it up and slipping it on. I walk to my closet and grab a pair of light blue jeans ripped at the knees and a light blue button-down shirt. I leave the first three buttons open and roll up the sleeves, putting on my brown belt and grabbing my white running shoes. I walk out and see Laney sitting on the bed bending over and tying her shoes.
She shakes her head. “I see now where you get your style from.”
“I got it from my mom.” I joke with her, going to the bathroom and fixing my hair.
Laney sticks her head in the bathroom. “I’m ready,” she says.
I look over at her, and she is dressed exactly as she was last night with her hair in long waves. I walk to her, kissing her, and then grab her hand. “Let’s go.”
I walk down the stairs and find my mother outside sitting in one of the lounge chairs. “Mom!” I yell from the kitchen.
She swings her legs off the lounger and walks to us. “How old is she?” Laney whispers to me.
“In her forties,” I say. “She was a teen mom.” I smile.
“I think she looks younger than I am.” She smiles.
I roll my eyes. “I can’t tell you how many times I got asked if she was my sister.”
“Laney, you look wonderful,” she says, coming in. “I love that skirt.”
“Thank you,” she says, looking down.
“I’ll drive,” I say, grabbing the keys to my car. “Where should we go?”
“Oh, let’s go to the Ivy. They make amazing mimosas,” my mother says when she grabs her purse and puts on her aviator glasses.
“Oh, I can go for a mimosa,” Laney says, “or a martini.” I look at her, and she winks at me.
“We can do both,” my mother says, walking in front of us. “I don’t even have a date tonight,” she says, and Laney tries to hide her laugh when I groan. “He gets cranky when I mention dating and sex.”
“Mom, seriously,” I say out loud, opening the door for Laney and then for my mother. “Can we tone it down?”
“Nope,” she says, getting in the back and smiling. “Not even a bit.”
Laney gets on her tippy toes and laughs, kissing me. “This is going to be fun after all.”
I close both doors, then walk around the car and get in. I make my way to the Ivy, and I remember pulling up two weeks ago in a whole different frame of mind. When I pull up to the valet, Laney turns to my mother. “We had our first date here.”
“Really?” my mother says. “How fun.”
“Well, it was fun till he put a damper on the party by telling me the dangers of drinking by myself,” Laney mentions.
“He’s such a buzzkill, my kid,” she says, laughing when the valet opens the door for Laney and then my mother. “Thank you,” my mother says, getting out of the car and walking to the hostess stand while Laney waits for me.
“Three for the garden.” I hear my mother say, and then she turns to me. “Out in the garden is okay, right?”
“Yeah, that’s fine,” Laney says, and I just follow the women as they chat on the way to the table. My mother takes a seat first, and Laney sits in the chair in front of her, so I sit in the middle of them.
“It’s such a beautiful place, isn’t it?” she asks Laney, mostly while I look around, scanning the restaurant. A couple of men at the bar have turned around, but half the tables inside are empty since the weather is so nice. Most of the tables outside are full.
My mother picks up a menu and is reading it when the waiter comes to the table to give us the specials. My mother orders a bottle of champagne and a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice.
“Mom, a whole bottle?”
“Oh, here he goes,” Laney says, looking at her menu.
“Honey,” she says, looking at me, “you’re the badass ex-Navy SEAL guy with a security firm. If we aren’t safe, we have other issues.”
I groan out loud when Laney agrees with her, nodding her head. The waiter comes over with a silver bucket and places it between my mother and me. “Here you go,” he says, showing her the bottle of champagne. She just nods her head and smiles. He peels off the foil wrapper, then unwinds the twist tie holding in the cork. He slowly turns the cork, and after it pops with a soft pop, he pours each of our champagne glass halfway. Putting the bottle of champagne in the silver bucket, he moves it to the side, and another waiter comes with a pitcher of orange juice to fill the glass to the top.
“Thank you,” Laney and my mother both say at the same time.
“Shall we toast?” my mother says, grabbing her glass. Laney grabs hers. “To love.”
Laney looks down and then up again at me. “To love.” They clink their glasses and look at me.
“I’m not drinking when I have to watch you two,” I say, and Laney throws her head back and laughs. “What? It’s true.”
“He definitely doesn’t get that from me,” my mother says, and I hear my name being called. I look over and see Dominic walking to us.
“I thought that was you,” Dominic says, walking to me, his black hair falling onto his forehead. His aviator glasses hiding his blue eyes. His jeans tight with a white T-shirt.
“Hey, are you here by yourself?” I ask him, standing to shake his hand, and he nods his head.
“You have to join us,” I say and then look at Laney. “Laney, this is Dominic. He works for me.” Laney stands halfway from her chair and puts out her hand to shake his. “And this is my mother,” I sta
rt to say, and then I’m shocked when Dominic talks.
“Joanna,” he says, looking at her. My mother smiles, getting up and turning and looking at him.
“Dominic, it’s so nice to see you again,” she says, grabbing his arms and kissing his cheek.
“You know each other?” I ask, and Dominic doesn’t answer, but my mother does.
“Yeah.” She turns to sit down. “We date occasionally.”
I look at Dominic, who opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. “I mean, dating is a stretch.” She smiles and takes a drink from her mimosa.
“I had no idea,” Dominic says, and I just glare at him.
“This is going to be fun,” Laney says, grabbing her own mimosa and draining it. “Can I have another?”
“Sure,” my mother says, not even caring that I’m still standing and having a face-off with Dominic.
“I can explain,” he starts, and I just shake my head. The questions are running through my head.
“Sit,” I tell him, and he walks over to the empty seat, which faces me.
“Explain,” I tell him, and Laney bites her lip.
“Absolutely not,” my mother says. “What Dominic and I do is not up for discussion. And frankly,” she says, filling her glass even more, “if I have to explain what we do, we have other issues.” I groan, Laney and my mother laugh, and Dominic looks like he wants to die. “Besides, what we do in our private time is private.” She looks at Dominic. “Isn’t that right, Dom?”
“He hates that nickname,” I tell her, and he just shrugs.
“This isn’t happening. How the hell did you two meet?”
Dominic starts to talk, and my mother talks over him. “Tinder.”
I look at them. He turns his head to look at my mother who looks back at him, almost like she is daring him to say something otherwise. He doesn’t do any of this. Instead, he pushes his chair back so hard it screeches. Standing up, he says, “Let’s go.” He puts his hand out to my mother, and I expect her to kick him in the balls, but she pushes her chair back, then reaches out and takes his hand. She takes his hand in a way that shows me that it isn’t the first time. “Enough of this shit,” he says to her. “No more games, baby. No more pushing me away pretending.” She smiles at him as he pulls her away.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she says over her shoulder.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” I say to Laney, who looks at me and laughs.
“Your friend is dating your mother,” she points out. “Oh my god, this must be killing you.”
“Oh, I’m going to be killing someone. You can bet on that,” I say, picking up my mimosa and downing it.
Epilogue One
Hunter
Seven months later.
I pick up my spoon and click the wine glass in front of me, the chattering of the people around us stopping when I stand. I look around the reception area and spot all the hard work we did over the past couple of days. Two days of hustling the tables and chairs all over the place. We moved it from one place to the other until the bride was happy, and it took about fifty tries. Okay, fine, three but when you’re moving all the tables, it feels like fifty.
Ten round tables line up in three rows around a makeshift wooden dance floor. The white linen tablecloths cover the plastic white tables. White floral centerpieces are the only thing on the tables now with candles all around it.
Ten wooden poles planted into the ground hold up string lights zigzagging all the way around to give us some light on the beach. If I thought moving the tables was something, I then see the lights and think of what a bitch it was to hang those up. The ladder doesn’t really work in the uneven sand, trying to hammer in the nails so we can hang them. Then having one of the girls walk by and say you should have hammered before planting them in the sand. All five men out there just glared at them as they shrugged and walked away. None of us actually admitted we should have done just that. Instead, we bitched, moaned, and swore the whole fucking time.
But I just smile and look over at the bride, trying my best not to piss her off. “So, it’s time for the best man’s speech,” I say.
I look over at Anthony who is sitting next to his wife, his arm around her shoulder, her back to his chest, while one hand holds her pregnant stomach.
“Thank you all for coming to celebrate Anthony and Sandy,” I start, and the whole crowd cheers. I smile, looking at everyone when I feel a hand hold my leg and look down at Laney. She sits there in her rose gold dress with her hair tied at the base of her neck, smiling up at me. “These two … I don’t even think Tinder knew what to do with them,” I say, looking over at them, “except to match them.”
Everyone laughs, especially Anthony and Sandy, who throws her head back. “I never thought I would see him settle down, never thought he would find the one, but he did.” I smile and look down at Laney.
“Sandy, he’s a lucky guy,” I tell her, and I look at Anthony who just nods, “to have found someone who is exactly, and I mean, exactly, like him.” A couple of people pick up their wine glasses and cheer. “I know he is going to be the best husband and the best father, and if he isn’t …” I look down and then up at Sandy. “I’m sure you will point him in the right direction,” I say. “To the newlyweds.” I hold up my glass. “May your love never die.”
I take a sip and sit back down next to Laney. “I fucking hate speeches,” I tell her. “Hate them.”
“You did really well,” she says, leaning over, and I kiss her. “So, well, I might have a surprise in store for you when we get home.” She raises her eyebrows.
I wink at her, my heart filling when she says the word home. Home. Our home. It took me a whole two weeks to ask her to move in with me; it took two whole weeks of silently sneaking her shit out of her house and putting it in mine. We would stop by her house, and she would pack a little bag, but unbeknownst to her, I was also filling a bag on the side. Until she finally had nothing left in her condo. It wasn’t as if I had to twist her arm; she was practically there all the time. Every night, we ate dinner together, talking about our day while sitting outside watching the stars before going to bed together. And when she wasn’t, well, I would go to wherever she was and make sure she came to me.
I hear the song “Meant to Be” come on, and I stand. “Will you dance with me?” I say, holding out my hand to her. She nods, turning in the chair and standing up. She puts her hand in mine, and we walk to the makeshift dance floor, no one following us. Instead, everyone seems to be interested in their own conversations. Anthony and Sandy visit each table, thanking their guests for coming. A couple of people standing at the improvised bar are doing shots.
I put my hands around her waist as she puts one hand around my neck and one on my chest right in the middle over my heart. I wonder if she feels its erratic beat. “I like this song,” I tell her, and she just looks up at me, her eyes sparkling, wrapping both hands around my neck. My hands getting clammy, I twine my fingers around the back of her waist.
“It’s catchy,” she says, and I start, my heartbeat echoing in my ears.
“If you listen to the words, it’s kind of our theme song,” I tell her while we go in a small circle. Everyone watches us, pretending that they aren’t. Laney doesn’t notice anything as she looks at me.
“Really?” she says, and she cocks her head, listening to the words. She doesn’t notice that I’ve stopped dancing and am now standing in front of her. She looks at me now, and then I do what I have been dying to do since she first threw sass at me.
When I get down on one knee, her hands fly to her mouth as she looks at me. “I have no idea what the future holds, and I have no idea how the path will be.” I smile and swallow, my mouth so dry. “I have no idea if it’s going to be rocky or if it’s going to be smooth sailing, but I am sure of one thing, and that is that I want you by my side through it all,” I say, and she cries and laughs. “I want you to be there holding my hand, yelling at me for not listening, and roll
ing your eyes at me—my all-time favorite,” I say, reaching into my suit pocket and taking out the engagement ring I bought when she moved in. “What do you say, Laney? Do you want to ride with me?”
She stares at me, not saying anything, until Sandy yells, “Will you answer him so we can get on with my wedding?” She turns to look at her best friend who stands now by the dance floor with all our friends. My mother stands there hugging Corina as they both cry. Gary stands there proudly; he was the only other person who knew. I went traditionally with asking for her hand in marriage. Sandy was the one who said I had to do it today.
“Yes,” she says with tears running down her face. “Yes, I’ll marry you.” She reaches down, taking my face in her hands and kissing me. “You are so romantic.” She laughs, and I finally slip the two-carat round diamond ring on her finger, taking her in my arms and turning her around.
Epilogue Two
Laney
Three years later
“I can’t believe we are actually selling this house,” I say, looking over at Hunter standing in the middle of the empty kitchen. I’m standing outside on the deck, looking at the ocean.
“Babe,” he says, “we outgrew this house two years ago.” He steps outside and puts his hands on my ever-growing stomach, our daughter kicking his hands the minute he touches me.
“She’s awake.” He smiles at me, and I take in his face, the little wrinkles that are around his eyes, creasing every single time he smiles. “Hello, princess,” he says, leaning down to talk to my stomach. She already has him wrapped around her little finger, and she’s not even born. “I can’t wait to meet you,” he says, and I run my hands through his hair.
Three years ago, when he proposed to me, and I said yes, I thought we would be engaged for a while before getting married. I was wrong. The next day, my mother and Joanna showed up with seven bride books. Seven. They walked in and had everything planned, no surprise there. They had a plan in place and had a wedding date set for three months later. I laughed at them, thinking there was no way we could plan a wedding in that time.
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