by L. A. Witt
Except . . . I sucked at being romantic. And I’d thought pulling out all the stops and proposing in an upscale restaurant would show him I was at least capable of doing things that qualified as romantic. Trust my nerves to turn the whole thing on its ass.
As Darren drove, a streetlight glinted off the ring.
Okay, so maybe I hadn’t pulled off the world’s most flawlessly romantic proposal—though it was better than the last time I’d proposed to someone—but in the end, he’d said yes, and that was all that mattered.
And as soon as we got home, I was going to sleep for a damn week.
“So, um.” Darren cleared his throat. “What exactly is the protocol for telling people?”
Fuck. So much for falling asleep. “Maybe we should figure out when we’re getting married first. Because I guarantee that’ll be the first question.”
“True.” He tapped his thumbs on the wheel. “So . . . when are we getting married?”
“I don’t know. When do you think we should?”
“Um . . .” He glanced at me. “Honestly, we could just go hit up the justice of the peace or—”
“We are not eloping.”
“What? Why not?” He eyed me like I’d lost my mind.
“Because if we do, my soon-to-be mother-in-law will have my head on a stick.”
Darren burst out laughing. “Oh come on. As long as we’re happy, she’ll be happy.”
“Uh-huh. Okay, then. Tell her we’re eloping. I dare you.”
He glanced at me again. Then he shrugged and took out his phone. “Okay.” He entered the passcode and handed it over. “Put her on speaker.”
I eyed his phone, then him. “I kind of feel like there should be a bet here.”
“Such as . . .?”
“Hmm, I don’t know.” I considered it while I found his mother in his contacts. “Loser puts addresses on all the invites?”
“Doesn’t sound so bad.” Then he tensed. “Wait, how many people are we talking about inviting?”
I pressed Send. “Guess we’re about to find out.”
The phone rang on the other end.
“Okay. Deal.” He chuckled as he slowed to a stop at a red light. “But wait, if we elope, we won’t be inviting—”
“Oh hi, Darren,” his mother chirped. “This is a surprise.”
“Hey, Mom.” He shot me a look. One that said, Prepare to lose. “So, um, sorry to call you this late, but—”
“Honey, you know you can call me anytime. And why do you sound so far away? Are we on speaker?”
“Yeah. Andreas is here too.”
“Hi, Jessica,” I said.
“Hi, sweetheart. What are you two up to tonight?”
“Well, that’s actually why we’re calling.” He paused and grinned. “We, uh, got engaged tonight.”
“What?” She squealed loud enough I had to hold the phone at arm’s length. “You boys are getting married? Really?”
Darren laughed. “Yeah, we’re really getting married.” We exchanged smiles, and even with our little bet going, I couldn’t help getting a little choked up. We were getting married, weren’t we? Holy fuck.
“Honey, that’s wonderful!” Jessica’s voice was suddenly muffled, but still loud as she called out, “Vic! Andreas and Darren are getting married!” Beat. “I have no idea who asked, but, honey, they’re getting married!” She came back on the line and sighed. “I’m just so thrilled for you two. Congratulations!”
“Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “We’re—”
“So when is the big day? Have you set a date yet?”
“Actually, that’s the other reason we’re calling. We’re thinking we might just skip the whole shebang and go to city hall.”
“Or Vegas,” I added helpfully.
Silence.
“Mom? You there?”
“You’re not really going to Las Vegas, are you?” Jessica’s don’t fuck with me voice made me laugh.
“No.” Darren glared at me for a second. The light had turned green, so he accelerated through the intersection. “But we are thinking about city hall. You know, the justice of the peace. Quick and easy.”
More silence. Long, emphatic silence.
I had to smother a laugh. I hadn’t known Jessica Corliss for very long, but long enough to know exactly what her face looked like right now.
Darren squirmed, holding the wheel tight in both hands. “Or, you know, we could discuss something a little more involved, like—”
“I’ve got a friend whose daughter is a wonderful wedding planner,” Jessica said. “She can help you with all the details. I’ll email you her information and tell her you’ll be calling.”
Darren shot me the dirtiest side-eye, which only made it that much harder to contain my amusement. In a voice much too pleasant to match that expression, he said, “Sounds great. Thanks, Mom.”
“You’re welcome. Oh, I am so excited. Let me know as soon as you have a date, all right?”
“We will.”
After she hung up, I put the phone in the cupholder but didn’t say anything. We drove a few blocks in silence before he spoke.
“To be fair, she didn’t actually say she’d have your head on a stick.”
“And was there anything in that conversation that told you she wouldn’t murder us with her bare hands if we insisted on eloping?”
He blew out a breath. “Damn it.”
I patted his leg. “Have fun addressing all those envelopes.”
“Mm-hmm.” He paused. “Uh, exactly how many envelopes are we talking about?”
I just laughed.
“So, uh, how do we tell people about this? Just change our relationship status on Facebook and hope for the best?”
“Oh, no.” I shook my head as I started typing out a text on my own cell. “If I learned anything from my first marriage, it’s that there is a certain hierarchy to announcing shit like this.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh. And that was back before social media.”
“Wait, there was a time before—”
“Shut up.”
He chuckled. “Man. People were fucking weird.”
“They are. And if your mom would lose her mind if we eloped, mine will lose her ever-loving shit if she finds out I’m engaged via Facebook instead of hearing it straight from me.” All of which was exactly why the text I was writing to Erin was prefaced with Don’t you dare post this on FB, but . . .
I’d barely taken my finger off the Send button when my daughter’s name lit up my caller ID. “Hey, kiddo—”
“He said yes? Oh my God, he said yes?”
I chuckled, giving Darren’s thigh a gentle squeeze. “He said yes.”
He glanced at me and smiled as he covered my hand with his.
“So, give me details.” She sounded even more excited than I felt. “How did it go?”
“Um.” I cleared my throat. “Well, I got a bit nervous, and . . .”
Darren shot me a look that said nothing if not Tell her and you’ll regret it.
“I probably could’ve been a bit more eloquent, but he got the message.”
“That’s so awesome! Does Grandma know yet?”
“No, which is why I don’t want this on Facebook quite yet.”
Erin snickered. “So what’s in it for me if I keep my trap shut?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I think it would be kind of hilarious to see Grandma blow a gasket all over Facebook, and—”
“Erin.”
Another snicker. “Like I said, what’s in it for me?”
“Not letting it slip that you moved in with Zach?”
Silence.
“That’s what I thought.” I laughed. “Anyway, I wanted to let you know. And yes, I’ll be calling Grandma tonight.”
“Good luck. And congrats, Dad. I’m really happy for you guys.”
I smiled, turning my hand over to clasp Darren’s. “Thanks.”
We hung
up, and Darren eyed me. “Why am I getting the feeling I should have met your parents before tonight?”
“No, I wasn’t going to do that to you.”
“Why not?”
“Because I wanted you to say yes.”
“And . . . you think me meeting your mom might have . . .”
“I just didn’t want to take any chances.” I brought his hand up and pressed my lips to the backs of his fingers. “Relax. She’ll love you.”
He glanced at me, brow creased with skepticism.
“It’ll be fine. I promise.”
“Mm-hmm.”
I chuckled, hoping he didn’t see right through me to my own nerves. Truth was, when I’d held off on proposing to Darren for a few more days, the thought of breaking this to my parents had been a factor. I might’ve waited another week out of sheer cowardice if Erin hadn’t reminded me why I’d wanted to marry him in the first place.
“Didn’t you say something about life being short, why wait, and all of that?” she’d asked over lunch last week.
“Well, yes, but—”
“Grandma will get over it. And you know you’ll regret it if you wait to marry him because you don’t want to face her.”
And now that the cat was out of the bag and the ring was on Darren’s hand, there was no way in hell I was losing another night of sleep because I was worried about how my mother would react. The sooner I got this out on the table, the better.
So, after we got home, while Darren took the leftovers into the kitchen, I stepped out onto the small balcony with my phone. It was still early enough on the West Coast that I didn’t have to worry about waking them up, so I speed-dialed my parents’ house.
It rang on the other end, and I waited with my heart in my throat. Wouldn’t everyone at the precinct love it if they could see me now? I knew my reputation. I knew damn well I deserved every rumor about being everything from an asshole to a psychopath. Most people had been shocked that cheerful-but-snarky Erin was my kid. Their jaws had hit the floor when they’d heard I was dating someone, especially someone as generally pleasant as Darren. They would shit themselves when they found out we were getting married.
If they ever caught on that I still couldn’t call my parents without a semi-sick knot in my gut . . .
“Hello?”
I cleared my throat. “Hi, Mom. It’s Andreas.”
“Oh, hi. This is unexpected.” Funny how when Darren’s mom said it, it was heavily implied that the surprise was pleasant. When mine said it, there was, if anything, a note of suspicion. Or maybe that was left over from my teenage years when the undercurrent of Why are you in trouble this time? had permeated every call.
I muffled another cough. “Yeah. I just wanted to . . .” Oh shit. Might as well put it out there and take the fallout as it came. “I wanted to let you and Dad know I’m getting married.”
Jessica had squealed loud enough to crack both of us up. Erin had been nearly as enthusiastic.
My mom was . . . quiet. The silence was a lot more loaded and a lot less funny than Jessica’s had been.
I’d been out of my teens for almost thirty years, but damn if I didn’t feel fifteen and powerless all over again. Two inches tall, holding my breath, waiting for either a tirade or some hard-won approval.
Finally, she spoke in a flat tone. “Last I saw on Facebook, you have a boyfriend.”
“Yes. That’s right.”
“And he’s . . . the one you’re . . .”
“Darren is the one I’m marrying, yes.”
“I see.”
More silence.
I rubbed my eyes, suddenly even more exhausted than I’d been when I’d left the restaurant. Maybe I should’ve waited until tomorrow to do this. The night had been going so well, damn it.
“Well,” she said after a moment. “This is definitely a surprise. I didn’t think you’d been seeing him all that long.”
Then why does it feel like he’s been here my whole life?
“It’s been long enough.”
“I’m sure.” I swore I could hear her rolling her eyes. “And he looks . . . um . . .”
I cringed. “Younger?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“He’s not as young as he looks, but I’ve, uh, got a few years on him.”
“Define ‘a few.’” Her voice had an edge that made my teeth grind.
“He’s twenty-nine.”
“Twenty—” she sputtered. “Andreas, he’s closer to . . . Do my grandchildren know you’re marrying someone closer to their age?” Funny how they always became her grandchildren instead of my kids when she thought I was going to screw them up somehow, which was most of the time.
“They’ve met him,” I said. “They don’t know we’re engaged yet because I wanted to tell you and Dad first. But otherwise, yes, they know.”
She let out a long, heavy breath. “You’re not planning to have children with him, are you?”
“No. Four is enough.”
“Then why get married? Is this really necessary, Andreas?”
The irritation in my chest suddenly gave way to something much more raw. Not because my mother was less than enthusiastic—I’d expected that much. No, it was because her question brought to the surface all those emotions that had driven me into the jewelry store in the first place. The way I’d fallen in love with him all over again every time I’d watched him reading to Emily or snickering about something with Erin. The helplessness when he’d almost slipped away from me on the tarmac a lifetime ago. The dumb arguments when I’d be genuinely pissed off, and how he’d piss me off even more by making me laugh until I couldn’t be mad anymore, and then we’d laugh and fuck and be okay again. The moments when he’d been the one thing anchoring me and keeping me sane and grounded while my kids had been in danger. When he’d kept me strong even when he should’ve been crumbling under the weight of his own grief after his brother’s death. The nights he didn’t know about when I couldn’t sleep, and I’d watch him in the darkness and wonder how the hell someone like him had ever found a damn thing endearing in someone like me.
Oh yeah, Mom. This is really necessary because I want the whole world to know I’m not letting go of this man.
I had to clear my throat again just to keep my voice even. “Yeah. It is. You and Dad don’t have to come if you don’t—”
“No, we’ll come.” She paused. “If this is really what you want, then of course we’ll be there.”
Don’t sound so thrilled.
“Okay. Well. We’ll keep you updated, then. When we figure out dates and all of that.”
“Yes, please.” She paused, then grumbled, “I assume it will be a proper wedding. As proper as it can be.”
I couldn’t decide if the swipe was because this was my second marriage or because I was marrying a man. Or just because it was me and nothing I did would ever be good enough. “Yes, Mom. It will.”
We made a bit more small talk. Caught up a little on what she and Dad were doing, and I gave her a quick update on the kids—mostly Emily, who was starting kindergarten. The older kids all had Facebook, so she kept up on them that way.
Then she had to go, so we ended the call. I slid the phone into my back pocket and stared out at the night sky. Nothing about the call had been unexpected, but . . . it hadn’t been fun. It never was.
Darren and I had laughed earlier about his mom’s enthusiasm and her insistence on us having a real wedding, but it wasn’t as funny now. I envied him. If Jessica had any flaws at all, they had something to do with trying too hard to make sure everyone around her was happy and taken care of.
My mother wanted us to have the big wedding too, but not because she wanted the whole world celebrating and popping champagne corks over the two of us getting married. Rather, anything less than a black-tie affair with no expense spared would be an embarrassment. If our wedding wasn’t good enough, neither was our marriage.
Well, I know who’s getting the better end of the in-law deal in this ma
rriage.
The sliding glass door hissed open behind me. Then shut. A second later, Darren wrapped an arm around my waist. “How did it go?”
Eyes closed, I exhaled. Then I turned to him. “On second thought, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to tell your mom we eloped.”
Darren’s eyebrows shot up. “That bad?”
Yeah, it had been that bad, but it was hard to be frustrated or pissed off when I was looking into his eyes. As I smoothed his hair, my conversation with my mother seemed as far away as the ones from my youth. It was back in the far reaches of my memory alongside the disappointment in her voice when she’d found out Emily was on the way, or the “but you’re so young,” “aren’t they a little close together?” and “don’t you think two is plenty?” with each “Marcy’s pregnant” call. Each of those times, she’d eventually come around. For as much as she would never fully approve of me, her grandkids walked on water as far as she was concerned.
I cupped Darren’s face in both hands and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I guess we’re having a big wedding.”
“So our moms will be happy?”
“Yeah, but we’ll be happy too.” I smiled. “Let them have their wedding. We’re getting married. Period.”
“And we’re getting the wedding our moms want?”
Our eyes locked, and we both laughed.
“Of course. Whatever they want.” I pulled him closer and kissed his forehead. “As long as it ends with me married to you.”
Darren’s lips parted, and he blinked like he was shocked I’d managed to say anything remotely romantic. Which . . . fair. And I fully expected him to rib me about it, but instead, he ran his fingers through my hair and smiled. “Sounds perfect to me.”
Yeah. Me too.
We were off for the weekend, the actual weekend, not just a few days of downtime in sequence whenever we managed to schedule them during the week. We had an honest-to-God Saturday and Sunday free, and no commitments to the kids. It was a goddamn miracle. We should have spent it cleaning the apartment, or making food for the week, or—my personal favorite—fucking like very loud bunnies in our glorious and rare moment of total privacy. It wasn’t that I didn’t love Andreas’s kids, I did—they were my family now as much as they were his—but the reality was that when Erin could drop in anytime, or Emily was in the apartment with us, sex tended to be a little furtive. I hadn’t really gotten a chance to make Andreas scream since we got back from vacation, and I was ready to remedy that.
