“I talked to my dad today. It’s no big deal; he just put me in a bad mood.”
“What did he say?” A thread of concern tugged at me that his dad could change my easy-going Trevor into someone I wasn’t familiar with so easily.
“I don’t want to talk about it. Just drop it.”
“Trev, you’re obviously upset. Tell me what happened. Maybe talking about it will make you feel better.”
Slapping his hands on the counter top, he looked at me, frustration evident in his teal-blue gaze. “Well, it looks like the family will be coming for a friendly little visit,” he stated sarcastically.
“Well, that’s a good thing, right? I mean, you never really talk about them, so I don’t know what they’re like. But they obviously care enough to want to come see you.” I tried to lighten the mood even though my words were halfhearted at best. Something told me his family coming was anything but good.
He let out a derisive snort and narrowed his eyes. “You don’t know my family, Lizzy. It’ll be anything but pleasant, trust me.”
“Then why don’t you tell me about them? I don’t really know anything about your life in Louisiana.”
His hands went to his hair again and I stood there as his agitation flowed through him, thickening the tension in the room. “I said I don’t want to talk about it, all right.” He picked up his empty beer bottle and threw it in the trash with so much force the glass shattered.
“Where are you going?” I called after him as he turned and walked from the kitchen.
“To bed. I’m not hungry.”
He climbed the stairs and I heard a door shut seconds later. I stared in the direction Trevor disappeared for a few seconds until I felt something wet pressed against my hand, pulling me from my daze. I looked down as Merle nuzzled my hand, waiting for me to scratch his head. It seemed the poor guy was just as bothered by Trevor’s behavior as I was. Both of us could sense that something wasn’t right.
For the second night in a row, I slept in my bed by myself. And for the second night in a row, I couldn’t shake the unwavering feeling that it wasn’t right. Functioning on little to no sleep, I went about my morning routine slower than usual. I stood under the shower spray for over half an hour, waiting for the warm water to wake me up. By the time I finally got out, there was no time for me to tame my wild, red curls. To my displeasure, I was stuck wearing my hair in its natural state.
Making my way down the stairs, I walked on autopilot to the kitchen for some much needed coffee. I was a total caffeine addict; talking to me before my first cup of coffee was like taking your life into your hands. I poured a piping-hot cup, doctored it up, and turned to see Trevor standing at the dining room table.
“What are these?” he asked, staring down at the papers littered across the table.
I walked over to stand next to him and answered, “Oh, those are plans for the salon. I’ve been thinking of expanding for a while now, adding rooms for waxing and massages, that kind of thing.”
“These are really good,” he told me as he looked over the plans while I sucked down my coffee. “Why haven’t you started on this yet?”
I gave a noncommittal shrug. “I don’t know. Something just always comes up, I guess.” I turned my head and studied his features, trying to gauge his mood. “I’m sorry for pushing you last night,” I told him. “I didn’t mean to make you more upset.”
Trevor finally turned from the table and pulled me into a hug, one I couldn’t help but melt into. I’d spent so long only looking at Trevor as a friend that I never stopped to realize how good it felt to be wrapped in his strong arms. How was it possible to take something that felt so amazing for granted for so long?
“I’m sorry, cher. It wasn’t your fault,” he said into my hair. “I was in a bad mood and I took it out on you.”
“I understand,” I told him, wrapping my free arm around his waist and burrowing my face into his chest, breathing in his intoxicating smell. “I just didn’t like seeing you that way.”
I felt him press a kiss to the top of my head and melted a little bit more. “My dad just sets me off. I always get like that when I have to deal with him.”
I pulled back and looked up at his handsome face. “If he makes you feel like that, are you sure we should have them for a visit?”
He smiled, but like the night before, it didn’t meet his eyes. I was really starting to miss his genuine smiles “Not much of a choice, cher. When Carlisle Devareau sets his mind to something, he’ll do anything he can to make it happen.”
The defeat in his expression made my heart ache for him. In that very moment, I decided that I was going to do whatever I needed to in order to make him feel better.
“Well, I’ll be there with you the whole time. I’ll be sure to protect you,” I joked, finally earning myself a heartfelt smile from him. With that smile, a small bit of my tension eased. Until right then, I hadn’t realized just how much his mood tied in to my own. Trevor being upset affected me on a greater level than I ever expected.
“Thanks baby.” He pulled on one of my curls before giving me a kiss on the tip of my nose. “You look really pretty this morning. I love it when you wear your hair like this.” He pulled the curl again and watched as it sprang back into place.
“It looks like a rats’ nest.” I tried to pat it down self-consciously.
“Nah,” he chuckled. “I’ve always had a thing for your wild curls. Looks good on ya, Liz.”
My tummy fluttered at his statement. “Thanks,” I muttered, feeling my cheeks heat under his gentle gaze
With every day spent living under the same roof as Trevor, I found my resolve crumbling just a bit more.
I’d just finished a manicure when the salon’s front door swung open. Emmy came walking in just in time for her pedicure.
“Hey there!” I said, taking the chance to rub her tiny baby bump that had just begun to show. Emmy was the most adorable pregnant woman I had ever seen. In loose clothes you still couldn’t tell she was even pregnant, but she was so excited about the little peanut she was carrying that she wore all her clothes tight so everyone knew. It was too cute. And watching big, strong Luke fawn over her was a sight to behold. At that though, I realized that the familiar pang of longing I typically felt when thinking about them as a couple was absent. Hell, if I really thought about it, I hadn’t felt it in weeks…since Vegas actually.
How am I just realizing that?
“What’s up, sweet cheeks?” Emmy asked as she climbed into the massage chair and turned it on. “Ohhh, that’s sooo goooood,” she moaned, her voice wobbling with the chairs vibrations.
“Enjoying that?” I laughed.
“You have no clue,” she groaned as the chair hit the right spot. “Luke has been driving me insane. He’s been up my butt twenty-four/seven since the pregnancy test came back positive. He won’t let me out of his sight for more than five minutes without blowing up my phone. I need this time to myself simply to keep from committing homicide. I won’t do well in prison. You know I’m bad at group activities.”
“Poor baby, her husband loves her,” I teased. “So, what color are we going with today?”
“I’m thinking a light blue,” she answered then added, “And it’s not just that he loves me. He wasn’t here when I was pregnant with Ella. It’s like he’s trying to make up for missing that.”
“Can you really blame him?” I asked sympathetically. “It’s hard for him not to blame himself.”
A glimmer of sadness flashed over her eyes as she thought about Ella. That was a dark time in her life, but Emmy was one of the toughest women I knew. And Luke worshipped the ground she walked on.
“I know that. It’s just that I’m pregnant and hormonal and extra extra bitchy. I cry at the drop of a hat then cuss him out just because he’s the weaker sex.”
I couldn’t help but laugh when I pictured Emmy bringing that huge man down to his knees. But she wasn’t lying. It was a scientific fact that women were su
perior to men; I totally read that somewhere.
We talked more about Emmy’s pregnancy and made plans for a girls’ night out as soon as I massaged, painted and rubbed, pampering my friend simply because I wanted to.
“So, how goes things on the marriage front?” she asked with a cheeky grin after I scootched her feet under the drier.
I pasted a bored expression to my face as I looked at her.
“Oh, don’t give me that look. I saw your Facebook post. A woman doesn’t announce to the world that she’s wrong unless she seriously messed up. Hell, half the times Luke and I have fought, I’ve been the one in the wrong. Does he know that? Noooo. It’s how we keep our power. Well, that and our vaginas.”
“Things are…I don’t know how to explain it. We’ve always been close, but now it’s just…different. It doesn’t feel like our normal friendship anymore. It’s like we’re…”
“Closer?” she added when I trailed off.
“I guess so,” I said under my breath, dropping my eyes to the ground under my friend’s intense scrutiny.
“Well, I think he’s fine as hell,” Kenzie added, coming to stand next to Emmy’s chair. “How you doin’, Momma?” she asked, giving Emmy’s belly a little pat.
“Hey Kenz. I’m good. But I don’t know how you ever did it with two of these things floating around in there. I’m barely in my second trimester and I’m already waking up every five minutes to pee. I swear, I sneezed the other day and had to change my underwear. So not sexy.”
“Just wait until you get the pregnancy gas,” Kenzie told her with a laugh.
“Oh, I already have! The other night, Luke was spooning me in bed and had his face partially under the covers. One must have snuck out, because next thing I know he’s jumping out of bed cussing a blue streak, talking about nearly killing him. He spent the rest of the night on the couch!” The three of us cracked up at Emmy’s story.
“Why is it considered funny for them to Dutch Oven us any chance they get, but if we accidentally let one out in their presence, it’s a punishable offense?” I asked.
“Eh, didn’t really bother me. With all these extra hormones pumping through me, I get hot as hell at night now. Without Luke’s furnace of a body next to me, I slept like a baby.
Emmy sure was doing a good job of turning me off the idea of pregnancy for the foreseeable future.
But hearing her talk about sleeping in bed with Luke just reminded me that I missed having Trevor’s body next to me at night. Yeah, he felt like a heating blanket in the middle of a hot Texas summer, but I still missed him being there. Tonight, I was going to have to see what I could do to rectify that situation. I was exhausted and the only way I’d get a good night sleep was if Trevor was there.
Trevor was right; this really is starting to feel like a real marriage.
When I got home that evening, he was already in the kitchen preparing dinner.
“Hey, wifey.” I wasn’t ready to admit it out loud, but I was kind of growing to love the sound of him calling me that. “I felt bad for skipping out on dinner last night, so I figured I’d cook for you to make up for it.”
I looked around the kitchen and saw the dirty pots and pans which filled up the sink. Then I looked at the food on the plates and called him out.
“Did you really have to dirty up every dish just to pass off Virgie May’s food as your own?”
“Damn it! How did you know?”
“Next time, maybe don’t put the carryout bag on top of the trash can,” I answered, holding up the evidence. “And I already know you don’t have a damn clue how to bake a pie.” I pointed to the counter where a Dutch apple pie sat, “pretend” cooling.
Just then, Merle came barreling into the kitchen, slamming into the side of the island in order to stop.
“What happened to his nose?” I asked, giving him a pat on the head.
“Mr. Bojangles got at him,” Trevor told me with a scowl.
“Well, did he try to sniff his butt again? You know Mr. Bojangles hates that.”
“Mr. Bojangles hates everything. He’s a bastard.”
At the sound of his name, my cat came sauntering into the kitchen and rubbed against my leg. I picked him up for a cuddle and could have sworn I saw him giving Trevor and Merle the stink eye. When I turned back to Trevor, he was shooting daggers at Mr. Bojangles and Merle was trying to hide under the dining room chair. Only his head fit, so his butt was still sticking out clear as day.
“You aren’t a bastard, are you, Mr. Bojangles? No, you’re not,” I cooed, earning myself a rumbling purr before my temperamental cat decided he had enough cuddling and jumped from my arms, waltzing out of the kitchen like he owned the place.
We sat down to eat and I dug into Virgie May’s homemade meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Trevor definitely knew my favorites. He might not have cooked it himself, but he’d still done well.
“So,” I started, fidgeting around in my chair, trying to get myself through my speech without blushing like crazy. “You slept in the guest room last night.”
Way to go with the obvious, Liz.
“Yeah. I just needed some time to myself.” He stared down at his plate as he spoke. “Besides, you locked your door the night before, so I just figured you wanted your bed back to yourself.”
I sucked in a deep breath and steeled my resolve. Best to just rip the Band-Aid off. “Well, I won’t lock it tonight,” I said, not able to stop the blush that radiated from cheeks and chest.
When he didn’t say anything for a while, I finally allowed myself to look up and meet his gaze. He was staring at me intently.
“What are you getting at, cher?”
I let out a huff of frustration. I knew he was just being difficult. By his knowing grin, he was more than aware of what I was saying. But I forced myself to speak the truth anyway. “I’ve slept like shit for the past two nights. I can’t sleep without you,” I answered honestly.
“Ah, baby. You’ve missed me, haven’t you?” He teased with a laugh, causing me to roll my eyes. “Admit it; you miss all this sexy pressed up against you at night. You crave my man meat, don’t ya, cher?”
“All right, dip shit. Don’t push your luck.” My scolding tone only made him laugh even harder. “Fine, you know what? Stay in the guest room. See how much I care.”
After a few more seconds, his laughter finally died down.
“Wanna know a secret?”
“What?”
“I haven’t slept for shit, either.”
That admission made me feel just a tiny bit better.
We had one week of enjoyable calm before the bottom fell.
I had the day off and was cleaning the house with Merle and Mr. Bojangles under my feet when my cell rang.”
A goofy smile spread across my lips when Trevor’s face popped up on the screen.
“Drunken Wives Unlimited. We get wasted so you can get married. How can I help you?”
“Cher.” The seriousness in his voice immediately snuffed out my good humor.
“What’s wrong?”
“The apocalypse is coming.”
I rolled my eyes at his dramatics and went back to dusting. “Trev, honey, I’ve told you a million times, a zombie apocalypse is never going to happen. Zombies aren’t real.”
He snorted through the phone line. “You can’t know that for sure. We don’t know what kind of sick, twisted shit the government is working on. It could only be a matter of time. Then you’ll be happy I’ve spent so long stocking up on canned goods. And I’ll be doing my I-told-you-so dance for every can of Vienna sausages you eat.”
“Is this seriously what you called to talk about?”
He let out a deep breath. “No, but you started it. You know my opinion on something like that.”
“Stay on point, honey,” I reminded him. “What apocalypse is coming?
“The Devareau family. It’s worse than zombies, cher. Batten down the hatches.”
“What? When?”
; That was when he dropped another bomb. “They’re already on their way, baby. I’m sorry I didn’t give you more warning; I just found out myself. The old man waited until they were only an hour out before calling to let me know. He’s an asshole like that.”
I looked down at my ratty clothes and the state of the house. I still had a lot more that needed to be cleaned in order for it to be presentable to guests. I began my mental freak-out as Trevor continued to talk.
“I’m leaving the shop as soon as I can, baby. I have a client I need to finish up with, but I’ll be there as soon as I’m finished. I’m so sorry. I never wanted you to deal with them on your own. Especially not when it’s an ambush like this.”
They couldn’t really have been as bad as he made them out to be, right? I mean, everyone complained about their families. Hell, I bitched about mine on a regular basis. I tried to wrap myself around the idea that meeting Trevor’s family was going to go off without a hitch, and they were totally going to love me. But I couldn’t even buy my own special brand of bullshit.
This was going to suck. But I’d be damned if I made it any worse for Trevor.
“It’ll be fine, Trev. I can handle them.”
“God, I hope you’re right,” he muttered, not helping to make me feel any better. “They’ll be there in about an hour. I can tell you my father will be expecting a home-cooked meal tonight. If that’s not something you have time to handle, I’ll grab something from the diner on the way home. Just let me know what’s best for you. I’m so sorry, cher.”
“Trevor, just calm down, sweetheart,” I soothed, trying to stop his rambling. “It’s fine. I can get a home-cooked meal ready for them. I still have time to start everything.”
“You sure? I don’t want to put you out, baby. It’s not fair to drop all this on you—”
“Honey, stop.” I interrupted. He was stressed to the max and I hated hearing him so frazzled. “I told you, I’m right here with ya. We’re a team. I’ll get dinner handled and everything will be just fine. No matter how your dad acts, I’m here. Okay? You’ve got me.”
Pushing the Boundaries (Picking up the Pieces #3) Page 8
