Up to You

by Daisy Prescott

  “Mae? Mae London?” Aiden asks, ignoring Mom’s insults, or maybe he zoned out and missed them.

  “What about her?”

  “Nothing. I didn’t know she was back in town.” Rolling his head, he rubs his neck. “How is she?”

  “Same, I guess. Hot. Holding a grudge against me. Working as a waitress. Still an amazing boarder when she’s on the mountain.”

  “Huh,” he says with a quick nod. “Cool.”

  “I guess.” Finishing my beer, I head to the fridge for another. “You want one?”

  He holds up his mostly full bottle. “Nah, I’m good. Should we join them out there?”

  I nix that idea with a shake of my head. “Probably better to let her cool off for a couple of minutes first. I have no idea why she’s all worked up about a wedding that doesn’t involve her own children.”

  “I think you answered your own question. With both of us single, she has to find her joy somewhere else. You know she lives for big life events like weddings, holidays, and birthdays.”

  He’s right. Gwendolyn loves big, emotional gatherings. “You left out funerals. She keeps a black suit dry-cleaned and ready should anyone keel over between here and Glenwood. The woman loves a good cry over a dead body.”

  “Speaking of dead bodies.” Mom glowers from the open doorway. “Landon?”

  I didn’t even hear or see her come back inside. Stealthy.

  “You’re so dead,” Aiden whispers into the mouth of his bottle.

  “Yes, Mother dear?” I say, sweetness dripping off each word like honey. Folding my hands, I put on my wide-eyed innocent face.

  “Save it for your revolving door of women.” She places her empty glass on the island counter. “Do you have a date for the wedding?”

  “What wedding?” I ask because I’m sure there is more than one upcoming wedding on her radar.

  “The London-Tierney wedding, of course. Unless you’ve had one concussion too many and can’t remember our conversation from five minutes ago.” She isn’t even a little amused by me right now.

  “Why would I have a date for a wedding I’m not going to?” Crossing my arms, I lean against the counter. Mom’s had too many glasses of rosé.

  “You’ll be invited. Invitations will be sent out this week.”

  “I think I’ll be out of town. Playing rugby.” There’s no way I’m missing one of the last tournaments of the season for some society wedding.

  “I thought the season ended in September with Rugby Fest?” Aiden’s grin tells me he knows he just threw me under the bus.

  “It does. Didn’t Mom say September was the wedding? I’m sure I’m busy every weekend.” I feel the solid ground of my excuse begin to slip out from under my feet.

  “It’s Columbus Day. That’s mid-October,” she adds like I’m an idiot, which apparently I am because I just blew my chance to get excused. “And you have to go because I’ve already told Mrs. London you’ll be Mae’s date.”

  “What?” I ask, my voice cracking.

  “Why?” Aiden sets down his beer with too much force. The glass bottle makes a loud cracking noise against the marble but doesn’t break.

  “Yeah, why?” I echo him. “If I have to attend, I can bring my own choice of dates. I’m not some sad sack who needs his mother to set him up. Not like Aiden. Make Aiden shave off the recluse disguise and take her. If either of us needs help with the opposite sex, it’s him, not me. I’m sure he doesn’t have any other options.”

  I can’t believe she thinks this crazy idea is going to fly with me. Anger heats my neck as I try to process why she thinks I’ll go along with her plan.

  “Fuck off, Landon,” Aiden mumbles, wiping the bottom of his bottle with his open palm, checking for leaks.

  Mom’s lips curve with the start of a small frown. “Can you two be in the same place for more than five minutes without sounding like the dialogue from an R-Rated mob movie?”

  “No,” I say, sarcastically.

  “It was a rhetorical question, dumbass.” Aiden stares at the ceiling before mumbling, “I really need to get my own place as soon as possible.”

  “You could always move back in here. We have a guest suite on the lower level with its own bathroom.” Mom touches his forearm, hope shining brightly in her eyes.

  “Thanks, but I can’t move home with my parents. I’m thirty, and while I’m not even in the running for wedding date material, I do have some pride left.” Aiden rests his hand over hers.

  “Oh, sweetheart. I assumed you’d be gone before October. Plus, Landon and Mae are friends,” Mom reassures him, her voice all lovey and doting.

  “We are?” I ask. “Since when?”

  “Aren’t you? You grew up together and I know you run in similar circles in Aspen. When I ran into her at the bridal shower she was with Sage Blum, who dates your team’s captain. You can go to the wedding as a foursome.”

  Yeah, she’s definitely been pounding the pink wine if she believes any of that bullshit. I don’t even know where to begin unraveling her words.

  “First of all, Sage and I dated before she was with Lee. He’s threatened to punch me more times than I can count, so ix-nay the idea of the four of us on a double date. Second, calling Mae and I ‘friends’ is kind of a stretch.”

  “Have you slept with her?” Mom asks, blunt and to the point.

  Behind her Aiden’s eyebrows lift with curiosity. Or amusement. He’s obviously enjoying this too much.

  “I don’t kiss and tell.” We haven’t but it’s none of my mom or brother’s business.

  “You can’t bring some floozy you pick-up in a bar after a match to a wedding, Landon. Twyla and Topher have decided that if you haven’t known your date for at least three months, no plus one. I’ve done you a favor.” She gives me a closed mouth smile. “Otherwise, you’d have to go stag.”

  Flying solo surrounded by horny women all hopped up on love is one of the few reasons to go to a wedding. Open bar and free food are the other two.

  “Did you and Mrs. London come up with this arrangement by yourselves? Does Mae agree?” I’m not saying yes to anything, but I’m curious if Mae was involved in this.

  Given she’s close friends with Sage and Mara, I doubt she’s jumping at the chance to go out with me. Even if we did fool around in high school like the horny teenagers we were. Unfortunately, we never closed the deal, but not for my lack of trying.

  Current Mae’s hot, way hotter than she was as a teenager. Definitely more of a late bloomer than Twyla, and not as beautiful, but she isn’t hideous. Far from it, actually. Long, dark hair with a killer smile, she’s sassy enough to probably be wild in bed. My mom might be onto something with her meddling.

  “She did agree.” Mom won’t meet my eyes. “Although her mother and I did come to the conclusion first.”

  “Soup’s on.” Dad enters the kitchen, carrying a tray of grilled steaks and shrimp. Seeing our grumpy faces, he pauses. “What did I miss?”

  Aiden takes the food from him and places it on the table. “Mom’s playing matchmaker for Landon because apparently he can’t be trusted to find an acceptable wedding date who won’t embarrass us all.”

  “No, I’m not.” Mom carries the salad over to join the meat and then goes back for the dressings. “I’m trying to make life easier. And maybe avoid a public scandal at the most important event between now and the holidays. Aiden, will you take the baked potatoes out of the oven, please?”

  Dad glances at Aiden before pulling out a chair and sitting. “Did your mother just compare Landon’s dating life to the Kardashians? That can’t be good.”

  “I’m impressed you know who they are.” Aiden returns, carrying a plate with four baked potatoes, which he distributes on our plates before sitting next to Dad.

  “I couldn’t name them all, but I’m pretty sure our office brokered a house sale for one of them a couple of years ago.” Dad sets a shrimp skewer on his plate.

  Mom joins them, leaving me standing at the
island with my mouth hanging open.

  “Was that the one whose husband cheated on her?” She tosses the salad and serves herself before passing the bowl to Aiden.

  They’re like a freaking sitcom family right now.

  Grumbling, I sit opposite Aiden. “That’s it? You’re all going to go on with your lives like Mom’s behavior is normal? For the record, my life isn’t a scandal. In fact, I love my life. Thank you very much.”

  “Steak or shrimp?” Dad asks.

  “Salad?” Aiden holds the bowl for Dad.

  “Landon, it’s one night. Do it as a favor for your beloved mother. This wedding is the social event of the season and will be good for your father’s business. Who knows? You might enjoy yourself more than you think.” Mom stares me down.

  Highly doubtful, but I give up fighting for the night. There’s no point in arguing with my mother, not when she digs in her heels.

  And maybe this is a good thing. Weddings make girls horny. If Mae is up for it, I’ll be sure to show her the night of her life.

  This might not be the worst idea ever.

  Chapter 3

  Mae

  Post bridal shower massacre on Saturday afternoon, the girls took me to the Cantina for margaritas and queso. By Tuesday my hangover is fading, but I’m going to have to break up with tequila for a while. Not forever. More of a Ross and Rachel on a break kind of situation. Long enough for me to forget the pain of betrayal.

  Luckily, La Belle Femme is quiet tonight. Mid-week between summer and the height of fall foliage equals a lull in tourists. We have a steady flow of mostly locals, but by nine o’clock, all but two tables are empty.

  Resisting a yawn, I drop off my final check with a smile. Once the last guests leave, I blow out the white candles scattered on the tables.

  My tips for the evening aren’t as terrible as I’d anticipated. This makes me happy as I walk down the quiet street to my apartment. It’s owned by my uncle, who took pity on me when I moved back to town last year and gave me the family rate. At the time I thought I’d only be here for the ski season, but I’ve stayed.

  Eventually, he’s going to realize my short-term rental is going on a year and probably kick me out. He can make more from a weekly rental during prime season than I pay in three months.

  Lost in thoughts of rent prices, my ringing phone startles me. I jump and let out a small scream, pressing a hand against my chest to calm my racing heart. With my other hand, I dig through my bag to find the phone.

  An unfamiliar but local number is calling me. Normally, I’d send it to voicemail, but it might be someone at the restaurant, so I decide to answer it.

  “Hello.”

  “Mae?” a man’s voice asks.

  “Who is this?” Uneasy, I glance behind me. No one is trailing me down the street. In fact, I can’t see another person for blocks. Safety in numbers, I silently tell myself, and pull out my cat-shaped keychain.

  “Is this Mae?” asks my anonymous phone friend.

  “You go first since you made the call.” Scowling at my phone’s screen, I debate hanging up.

  “It’s definitely you.” A familiar arrogant chuckle cracks the mystery of my caller.

  “Landon.” I keep my voice flat rather than growling like I want. I don’t want to show emotion or give him any pleasure from causing a reaction in me.

  “How’d you know it was me? Recognized my sexy voice?” he purrs, but instead of being sexy, it sounds like he needs to clear his throat of phlegm.

  “Why are you calling me? Is someone dead?” Annoyance replaces my anxiety about a creepy, unknown caller. “Wait, how did you get my number?”

  He chuckles again. “So many questions. No one is dead. I got your number from a mutual friend and I’m calling about our mothers.”

  I’m going to need to speak to my friends about privacy and boundaries. “You mean the wedding date? Our mothers are smoking meth if they think we’re going to the wedding together.” I laugh at the ridiculous idea, expecting him to chuckle again.

  He doesn’t. Completely serious, he says, “I think we should do it.”

  “It? Like, have sex?” I screech. “Are you crazy?”

  “I meant, be each other’s date for the big shindig. But if you’re open to us fucking, what are you doing tomorrow night? Or if you have time tonight, I can be there in thirty minutes, but we’d have to be quick. Easley and I have plans to troll Little Annie’s for tourists later.” Now he’s amused. At my expense.

  “Keep it in your pants, Roberts. I’m not getting naked with you.” Exasperated, I open the door to my building and climb the two flights of stairs to my apartment instead of taking the elevator.

  “You’re all breathy sounding. Are you touching yourself thinking about it?” Chuckling at his own joke, he’s so full of himself.

  Acidic bile tickles the back of my mouth.

  “You’re unbelievable. I’m climbing stairs. Is there a point to this call other than to harass me?” Once inside of my apartment, I toss my keys in the bowl on the console table and drape my bag on one of the hooks on the wall.

  “You’re no fun. Okay, I’m serious about getting together tomorrow or later this week to hang out and discuss our upcoming date.”

  I stare at myself in the mirror above the narrow console table and mouth, “He’s serious.”

  Switching over to speaker, I set my phone next to the bowl so I can remove my jacket and shoes. “No need. I’m giving you the out. I’m planning to have the stomach flu that weekend. Food poisoning from a bad oyster. Migraine. Whooping cough. Shingles. The avian flu. Whatever seems most plausible at the time. I’ll improvise. Apologies in advance for canceling on you last minute. Feel free to use this to garner sympathy from a lonely bridesmaid. Or two. You do you. Bye, Landon.” My finger hovers over the screen about to disconnect the call.

  He’s laughing again. “I forgot how hysterical you can be, Mae.”

  I’m not trying to be funny. This conversation is a disaster.

  “All joking and brilliant sexual innuendoes aside, are you free tomorrow?” he asks.

  “Why?” In my socked feet, I pad over to the kitchen with my phone in my hand.

  “Let’s hang out. It’s been too long.”

  “I thought we covered this already. You’re free. I release you from being my date.” Sighing, I decide to have a glass of wine.

  “Come on, I’ll be a perfect gentleman. We’ll have fun.” I don’t ask if he’s talking about tomorrow or the wedding.

  “I’m working tomorrow.” It’s the truth, not an excuse.

  “We can meet up after. One drink. I’ll pay.”

  His relentless refusal to let this go surprises me. Curiosity piqued, I dismiss my gut, and say, “Okay.”

  I’m saying yes, but not for a free drink. No, I’m not that desperate. However, I am a sucker for a good redemption story. Back in high school, we hung out a lot. Sometimes he was the same jerky asshole he is now, but there were times when it was only us that he was nice, funny, and interesting. Maybe somewhere beneath the overdeveloped muscles and arrogance, that guy still exists.

  Stranger things have happened.

  “Okay? You’re saying yes?” Shocked, he loses his cocky attitude for a second.

  “To the drink only. I should be done with work around nine. I’m not saying yes to the wedding date. Deal?” I take the bottle of wine and a glass with me over to the small love seat.

  “Deal. I’ll pick you up.”

  “This isn’t a date, Landon. Tell me where to meet you.”

  “The Red Onion okay?”

  “Great. See you then. Night.” I don’t wait for him to say anything more and disconnect the call.

  “I’m voluntarily hanging out with Landon Roberts.” I lift my glass in a toast. “To the end of times.”

  Chapter 4

  Mae

  Wednesday evening at work is even quieter and my manager lets me leave at eight-thirty. If tonight were a real date, I’d go home
to change. Instead, I stroll through quiet streets past the closed shops and galleries.

  I love my hometown at night. Fairy lights illuminate the double row of aspen and pine trees down the center of the pedestrian only section of Hyman Avenue. Twin streams flanked by grass complete the woodland feel in the middle of downtown. The soft glow from shop windows creates a magical feeling that has nothing to do with wealth or social status no matter the cost of the goods displayed inside.

  A dress catches my eye and I pause to study it more closely. It would be perfect for the wedding, and it isn’t even black. The silk fabric is a deep, emerald green. Without lace, or anything sparkly, the long dress is an elegant column. Classy, but not boring. I’m in love with it. And then I notice the gold lettering on the glass.

  Prada.

  “Why does everything I love have to be unattainable?” I press my palm against the window in a sad farewell. I’ll check out Aspen’s finest thrift store and say a prayer I can find something half decent in the designer section. Women donate the most outrageous clothes and shoes in this town. Lucky for me and my wallet.

  A few people loiter outside of the Red Onion, smoking cigarettes, and from the skunky smell in the air, pot. One guy in a popped collar waves around a fancy vape pen. Of course, he does. He’s probably a friend of Landon’s. Who rocks a popped polo shirt collar these days? Apparently, that guy right there. He’s bringing back the preppy asshole look even though no one has asked him to.

  I quickly pass the dudebros to walk inside. The regular bouncer, Conner, sits at the bar, chatting up a female bartender I don’t recognize. She’s blonde and tall, with a healthy tan like she spends as much time outdoors as possible.

  “Shouldn’t you be guarding the door?” I slide onto a bar stool a few down from the bouncer. There are maybe ten people scattered around room.

  “Hey, Mae. I think I can handle the crowd tonight while sitting down.” Conner flashes a smile, revealing a gap between his front teeth. “What brings you to the Onion tonight? Hot date?”