by L. A. Witt
“Shit,” I muttered, and grabbed the shampoo. This would be fast and dirty.
Or not. By the time I was done, the water was going cold. Fine. Not so fast in the end, but worth it. I dried off and got back to the bedroom in time to see Andreas stirring under the covers. I took a running jump at the bed and landed just behind him, bouncing so hard that he actually rose off the mattress for a second.
“Jesus Christ,” Andreas groaned, rolling over to face me. “What are you, five?”
“Nope!” I popped the p as I bounced a little more. “Just happy you’re awake! Although . . . wait a little bit to shower, okay? The hot water heater needs to refill.”
“What took you so long in there?”
I arched one eyebrow. “What do you think?”
Andreas looked put out. I swear, if he were a little less rugged, I would have called his expression a pout. “And you didn’t ask me to join you?”
“I figured getting your beauty rest was more important than morning nookie this time.”
“You figured wrong.”
“Yeah? You want to face your mom on less than eight hours of sleep?”
He groaned again and pushed his face back into the pillow. “Fuck, brunch.”
“Yeah, I wish we could just fuck brunch, but my mom’s really looking forward to it.” Because naturally, it was her idea. We were meeting at her house at eleven: all the kids, Louise and Joe, Mom and Vic, and the two of us. Mom had been baking since Friday.
“It’ll be fun!” she’d said when selling us on it. “A little family bonding experience, something more personal than the engagement party.” And we’d said yes, because my mother has epic persuasion game, but after last night, I couldn’t think of many things I’d rather not do than go face-to-face with Andreas’s mother for a few hours. Maybe rolling in a pile of fire ants.
Andreas sighed. “I know she is. Although I honestly think that . . .” He trailed off for a moment.
“Think what?”
“Oh, nothing. Just . . . I think Jessica might be a little more comfortable with the idea of us keeping our distance, after last night.”
I frowned. “Why? Did something happen?”
“No, not really. I just think she understands that we’re not really party people. That there’s such a thing as too much, you know?”
He’d articulated exactly what I was feeling. I flopped down next to him on the bed and pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes. “I knooow. Oh my God, I can barely believe that we have to do all of this again. And again.” The rehearsal dinner, then the wedding reception . . . the only thing I was really looking forward to at this point was the actual ceremony, and getting to say, I do. I wanted Andreas as my husband. I wanted the formality of that, the gravity, the legality. I was more and more exhausted by everything else that went with it, though.
“But it’ll be fine.” Because it had to be fine. Otherwise I’d rip my eyelashes out. “We’ll get through all of it, and everyone will be happy, and then we’ll be married. Worth it.”
“Yeah.” He took a deep breath, then rolled over and just . . . looked at me for a moment. Longer than a moment. I almost wanted to crack a joke, except his expression was something I’d never quite seen before: open and vulnerable and a little pained, like his emotions were bleeding out of him. “Yeah, it’s worth it.”
When he kissed me, it was sweet and soft and tender, the sort of kiss I never even knew I wanted until I had it, and then I couldn’t get enough. I followed him when he pulled back, wanting to keep it, prolong it. I cupped his jaw with my hand, the stubble rough against my fingertips, and pulled him down again until we were flush, the covers a flimsy barrier. Maybe we could—
The alarm went off. Andreas reached over and slapped at it, but only managed to knock it off the nightstand. “Goddamn it,” he growled against my mouth, and I chuckled. We both straightened up, and I resisted the urge to tug down the back of his pajama bottoms as he stretched to grab the clock.
“We still have to pick up Emily,” I reminded him when he looked like he was considering lunging at me. Erin was going to bring her brothers, but Emily was our responsibility. “And get dressed, and you have to shower.”
“Easy for the guy who’s already gotten off to say.”
“The early bird spanks the monkey.” I laughed as he hit me with his pillow. “Seriously, though, we have to get moving.”
“Yeah, I know.” He stood and headed for the bathroom. I watched him go, then took a bracing breath. Brunch, and then we’d be back to our regular lives, plus the fuss of all the wedding planning. We could do it.
I might have escaped a hangover, but by the time we all met up at my parents’ house, it was pretty clear that Louise had not. She kept her sunglasses on even though the brunch was inside, and the speed with which she went for a mimosa once my mother poured the champagne made me wonder how she kept it all in the glass. She also seemed to suppress a wince every time Emily’s voice rose into the higher registers, but to her credit, she didn’t say anything to Emily about it. No, she held back all of her complaints for the rest of us, including the older kids.
“Look how short your dress is!” she exclaimed as Erin walked through the door. “How are you even going to sit down in that?”
“Carefully,” Erin replied. She gave her grandparents a brief kiss on the cheek, then hugged the stuffing out of my mom and Vic. “Thanks for having us all over.”
“Oh honey, you know I love it when you come to visit,” my mother assured her. “Do you want a mimosa?”
“I’d love one.”
The boys agreed, and they all took a glass from the tray.
“Who’s the designated driver?” Louise asked.
Erin rolled her eyes. “Grandma, one mimosa isn’t going to put me over the limit.”
“It’s a bad habit to get into, though. And one of the boys should be driving anyway.”
“It’s my car, and I live here,” Erin argued. “I know my way around best.”
Louise shook her head. “But both Ben and Casey have better driving records than you do, dear. Don’t you remember totaling your mother’s car when you were seventeen?”
Erin’s lips thinned. “That was an accident, and it had nothing to do with drinking!”
“Yes, but. Still.”
My mom did what I’d been trying to figure out how to do, and stepped in. “Let’s fill some plates! It’s very informal today, so just take what you want and find a seat anywhere. Ben, I made those cinnamon rolls you like so much.”
Ben’s face brightened. He’d spent a few days with my parents during the kidnapping debacle, and apparently that was long enough for my mom to suss out his favorites. “Thanks, Jessica.”
“You’re welcome, honey.”
That wasn’t the end of it, though. You’d think having a plate full of food on her lap would necessitate Louise shutting her mouth, at least to chew, but she took one bite of my mom’s breakfast enchiladas and made a moue of disgust. “My goodness, these are overflowing with cheese. How many calories are in this?”
My mom blinked. “Oh, I . . . I have no idea.”
“It’s far too heavy to eat something like this so early in the day. And all these sweets! I’d think you’d take a little more care with your cooking, given your husband’s obvious health issues.”
“Mom,” Andreas said warningly.
“It’s not as though it’s a secret,” she argued. “Mr. Corliss is clearly overweight.”
Vic shrugged. “Always have been, no matter how I eat. I get plenty of exercise these days, Louise. Don’t worry about me.”
“Oh, I wasn’t.”
It wasn’t so much what she said but the way she said it, her tone so dismissive it bordered on outright rudeness. I felt my hand start to clench around my fork, and forced myself to relax. “I think it all tastes great, Mom. Thanks for cooking.”
My mother tried to smile. “It was my pleasure, sweetheart, you know that. Emily, do you like it?”
Emily nodded enthusiastically. “It’s so good,” she said before taking a mouthful of pancake. “’Ank oo, ’Effica.”
“Swallow before you speak,” Louise snapped. “Good grief, Emily, isn’t your mother teaching you any manners at all? And you don’t call adults by their first name.”
“I told her it was okay.” My mother had her placating tone of voice on, which made me kind of angry. She had no reason to be bending over backward when it was clear that Louise was going to bitch no matter what, but then again—that was my mom. “Once Andreas and Darren are married, I can be Grandma instead.”
“She already has a grandmother.” You could have frosted a beer mug with Louise’s voice. “Just like she already has a father.”
“Mom.” Andreas sounded on the verge of yelling, but he was clearly holding it back for the kids’ sake. “You need to be quiet for a while.”
“Since when did you get so defensive?”
“Starting now.”
Astonishingly, it worked. The rest of the meal passed in relative silence, but at least it was better than sniping. We talked a little about grad school for Casey, about Ben’s plans to spend a semester in Spain next year, and about Emily in kindergarten. It wasn’t until my mom and Vic started clearing plates that the truce was broken.
“Erin, you should help with that.”
“Why?” Erin demanded. “Because I’m a girl and helping in the kitchen is what girls do?”
Louise shrugged. “Partially. You might pick up some hints about cooking too. It’s going to be hard to keep that doctor of yours if you don’t know how to take care of a home.”
Erin went so red in the face that I thought she’d burst. Ben, who tended to play the peacemaker, offered to help instead.
“No, no, we invited you, you all sit and relax,” my mother replied, waving him down. “Really, it’s no trouble at all.”
“Hmm.” Louise sipped at her third mimosa. “I suppose I understand what Andreas sees in someone like Darren, if he learned a little about pleasing people from you.” Behind her, Joe rolled his eyes, but he didn’t say anything and didn’t stop her when she continued. “God knows his first wife was useless in the kitchen, and I don’t know if Emily’s mother ever steps out of her drugged haze long enough to—”
“That’s it.” I was a little astonished to realize that I was the one speaking. I’d fucking had enough, though. “Erin, please take Emily to the swings in the backyard. Vic, if you could—”
“I got it,” he said. “Ben, Casey, let’s head to the garage.” He grinned. “I’ll show you my gun collection.”
“Mom, you don’t need to stick around for this,” I told her, but she didn’t move from the kitchen door.
“For what?” Louise sounded disgruntled, and Joe was starting to look like he regretted keeping his silence for so long, but I didn’t give a flying fuck what bothered him at this point. As soon as the kids were gone, I let loose.
“I didn’t expect a lot from either of you, given that in all the time I’ve known Andreas, I never once heard him talk about his parents, but you really take the fucking cake in person.”
“Oh, please.” Louise removed her sunglasses and rolled her eyes. “You haven’t even known him a year, so what could that possibly tell you?”
“It tells me that when he was hurt, he didn’t want to talk to you. It tells me that when his children were missing, he didn’t want to include you. It tells me that he had a really good reason for that too, because you seem to be pathologically incapable of not tearing people down!”
“Darren.” Andreas reached for my hand, but I shook him off. I was too angry to be soothed right now.
“No, she needs to hear this!” I focused on Louise, whose back had gone as straight as a board. “Your own family finds you intolerable, and I totally see why. You treat your son like dirt, you talk to your grandkids like they’re all five years old and you don’t recognize their accomplishments, and you have the worst fucking manners of anyone I’ve ever met, and that includes the guy who stabbed me! You don’t get to treat my family like they’ve been anything other than massively accommodating of your bullshit and expect to keep getting away with it.”
“Well.” Louise got to her feet. In her heels, she was about my height, and the way she glared at me, I could tell that some part of her was trying to kill me with her mind. “If that’s the way you feel, then I don’t think Joe and I need to bother attending this farce of a wedding.”
“I don’t think you’ll be attending either, because you’re not fucking invited!”
It took a moment for me to register the fact that I’d just barred my future in-laws from my wedding to their son. And I’d done it without even talking to Andreas first. Anger slowly gave way to a rising sense of nausea. “Excuse me,” I muttered, and headed for my old room without a backward glance. I shut the door behind me, leaned my back against it, and started to shake.
Shit. Oh my God, what had I done? I’d screwed everything up. Maybe Louise was just drunk, maybe she was apologizing right now, maybe the fact that she was Andreas’s mother should have been enough to keep me from running my mouth right off a cliff, but nooo. I didn’t get angry often, but when I did, I was a complete asshole.
Case in fucking point.
Someone tried the door, but with my weight against it, it didn’t budge. A quiet knock followed, and I collected myself enough to stand up and open it. It was Andreas.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted before he could say anything. “I’m sorry, that was so out of line.”
“Darren.” He took my hand, and this time I let him, and he led me over to the bed. We sat down, and it was a minor relief to be off my feet. “I’m not upset.”
Now that was an even bigger relief. But . . . “Really? Because I basically just told both your parents to fuck off and mind their own business.”
“You didn’t say anything I wasn’t thinking. I’m just sorry you had to be the one to speak up first. And you’re right about not having them at the wedding. In fact . . .” He studied my face for a moment, then said, “We should elope.”
I laughed, probably sounding a little maniacal, but I couldn’t help myself. “It would be nice, wouldn’t it? Then we could tell everyone to fuck off, so your folks wouldn’t feel singled out.”
“I’m serious.”
I checked his face and— Oh. Wow. I hadn’t seen this coming. “You are?”
“Yes.” He shook his head. “Getting married shouldn’t be this stressful, even without my parents being dicks. It’s driving us both into the ground, and it’s only going to get worse. Trust me. We’ll be ass out on a few deposits. But . . .” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Just say the word, Darren. All I want is to be with you. I don’t care about the party, or the flower arrangements, or—”
“What about the kids?”
He chewed his lip. “Shit . . . if there was some way to include Emily, then—”
This was really serious for him. It felt like the sun was coming out from behind the clouds in my head. I moved a little closer to him. “What if we just have my parents there with Erin and Emily? And the boys if they can make it?”
“That could work.” His expression brightened a little. “You’d be on board?”
“Sure. Yeah.” I smiled. “With all the money we’ll save by canceling this shit, there’s no reason we can’t buy four extra plane tickets.” I paused and added, “Zach can buy his own if he and Erin are speaking by then.”
“Plane . . .” He blinked. “Plane tickets?”
“Well, yeah.” I slid my hands up his back and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. I felt a thousand pounds lighter. “If we’re going to elope, we should at least do it in style.”
It took a second for the pieces to fall together, but when they did, he laughed. “You want to go to Vegas, don’t you?” I nodded enthusiastically, and he kissed my forehead. “You know I can’t say no to that look.”
“I know.”
I batted my eyes. “That’s the idea.”
“Of course it is.”
“So, Vegas?”
“Yes. Vegas.”
Even if it upset my parents, I just couldn’t—
“Oh, thank goodness!”
We both turned to see my mom in the doorway, one hand pressed to her chest, the other on her forehead. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to listen in. I was just coming to make sure everything was all right, and I heard you mention Vegas, and I just— I’m so relieved!”
Now I was confused again. “But I thought you wanted us to have a traditional wedding.”
She shook her head. “And that was so selfish of me, to try and make you do something that you didn’t want to. I’m sorry, sweetheart. An elopement is perfect. And if I can help with anything at all, or if you want me to just butt out, that’s fine too. I just want you both to be happy.”
“We were hoping you’d come to Vegas with us and the girls,” Andreas said, and my mom grinned.
“Of course! We can take Emily home while you two honeymoon.” She came over and kissed us both on the cheek, then put a hand on Andreas’s shoulder and looked into his eyes. “I only have one last request.”
“What’s that?” he asked her.
“You don’t invite your mother back to visit for at least a year. Seriously, honey, what a bitch.”
The chapel was about as Vegas as it could be. The neon sign outside must’ve been visible from space, and the interior looked like the drug store’s post-Valentine’s Day clearance section had exploded all over it. Red hearts, red roses, red neon images of couples—straight, of course—kissing. The officiant wore a white sequined suit and had his graying blond hair done up like a half-assed homage to Elvis. It was all blindingly tacky, and my mother would have had a fit if she’d seen it, so I decided it was perfect.
It was a relief to be out of the sweltering desert heat too. The place was as air-conditioned as the casinos, bordering on too chilly, so it had been a good idea to wear our tuxes after all. Erin and Emily were wearing matching blue dresses with thin straps, and I thought they’d be cold, but they seemed comfortable enough. If they got cold, there were plenty of jackets among Zach, Vic, Darren, and me. We’d manage. And I had to admit, it would be cute as hell for Emily to go through the wedding with my black tuxedo jacket draped over her tiny shoulders.
