by Elle Casey
“But you have to,” she whines. “We’re finishing up the wedding plans and I need your input.”
“I already masterminded the plan to get your wedding back on track by moving it forward and finding you that caterer. I think I’ve done my duty.”
She frowns at me. “Don’t make me put you in another headlock.”
I have to smile at that. She did take me down once, but I doubt she could do it again. I’m ready for her now, plus I’m no longer encumbered by nausea.
I point at her as I click a button on my keyboard, rewinding the current recording a bit. “Listen here, Bo Peep . . . you even try to put me in a headlock, and I’ll have you so tangled up in your headphone wires, you’ll have to call in a posse to rescue your sorry butt.”
She leans in close and whispers loudly, “If you do that, I’ll tattle on you. I’ll tell them you did it and overexerted yourself at the same time. Lucky will scold you big time.”
“You’d better not.” I’m trying to stay serious, but it’s impossible. Somehow, whenever I chat with May, I end up feeling like I’m ten years old again. I think I was a lot less bitter back then, too, because I’m finding her more funny than annoying these days. Damn hormones . . . they’re making me soft. After these babies are born, I’m signing up for double workouts with Dev.
“Please?” she pleads. “I’ll buy your babies matching booties.”
It’s so stupid, but her silly little bribes always manage to get me. Who cares about booties? Apparently, I do. “Fine. I’ll go shopping with you, but I’m not going for more than an hour.”
“No problem. I can power-shop. The question is . . . can you?” She wiggles her eyebrows up and down at me.
I snort. “Please. I can power through anything, including one of your silly shopping trips.”
“Better wear your running shoes,” she says under her breath, putting her headphones on and clicking keys on her computer.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
When May said power-shop, she wasn’t kidding. Jenny is her wingman and I’m the slacker trailing behind, whining about my feet. She was right; I should have worn running shoes, but I stuck with my work boots, which have heels that are doing a great job of killing me. We’ve only been here for forty-five minutes, but I swear to God, we’ve already visited half the stores in the mall and covered about five miles in the process.
“Come on, you have to keep up. We still have another four shops to go into before our time is up.” May snaps her fingers over her head at me.
“Can we stop for a drink or something?” My tongue feels like it could stick to the roof of my mouth with little effort.
Jenny answers me when something shiny in a shop window catches May’s attention. “You can have some water; that’s it. Everything else in this entire mall is either caffeinated or full of sugar.”
I roll my eyes, making a mental note never to shop with either of these two again. They’re hardcore and of the opinion that every single piece of fabric in the entire place must be touched and evaluated before we can move on to the next. I don’t say anything else, deciding that drawing attention to myself is a bad idea. I need them to focus on their mission and get this over with.
Twenty minutes later, we’re finishing up at the last store, the place where we’re supposed to pick out our bridesmaids dresses. Jenny holds up a black cocktail number.
“This one is gorgeous,” she says, shaking it at me.
I roll my eyes. “Sure, if you don’t mind my potbelly hanging out on the front of it.” The thing is skintight.
Jenny fake-frowns at me as she moves the dress away. She puts her hand on my belly and rubs it. “How dare you. This is not a potbelly. This is a baby belly.”
I look down, a little shocked that she’s actually touching my stomach. It feels weird to have another woman put her hands there without any warning, but at the same time, it’s not entirely unpleasant. The babies are in there, after all, and she’s practically an aunt to them.
Her eyes open wide. “Was that a kick I just felt?”
I smile. “Yep. Baby’s telling you to get your hands off the merchandise.”
Jenny jerks her hand back. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. That is so rude of me.”
I shake my head, feeling bad that I embarrassed her. “No, don’t worry about it. It’s no big deal, really.”
May joins us. “Did you guys find a dress?”
I grab the hanger out of Jenny’s hand and hold the gown up in front of me. “Yep. Looks great, right?” This is my ticket out of here.
“But you have to try it on,” Jenny says.
I look at my watch. “Don’t have time. I’ll try it on at home. If it doesn’t fit, I’ll bring it back and get another size.”
May points her finger at me. “You’d better do it right away. We’re running out of time. The wedding is next week.”
I nod. “I know, I know. Remember? I’m a bridesmaid. I’m central to this entire production.”
May surprises me with a hug. Then Jenny joins in and makes it a group thing. I sigh, letting the dress dangle off to the side.
“In a week you’re going to be my sister!” May squeals.
I frown over her shoulder. “How’s that?”
Both girls pull away and grin at me. I never thought they looked that much alike before, but seeing them side by side with both of them wearing those silly smiles on their faces, I can see it now. It makes me wonder if my babies are going to look exactly alike or if they’ll be fraternal twins.
Jenny answers my question. “You’re practically a sister to Ozzie, so that makes you practically May’s sister-in-law when she’s married, which will make you my practically-sister-in-law.”
“I’m not sure your family chart will hold up under scrutiny.” I’m quoting words I’ve heard my brother use when he’s talking about evidence. Will it hold up under scrutiny? is always the question he’s asking when we hand in our reports.
May waves her hand in the air, effectively dismissing my negative comments. “It doesn’t matter what the law says; it only matters what the heart says.” She places her hand on my shoulder and stares at me. “You will be my sister in less than one week, so you’d better get used to it. I advise you to just embrace this and not fight it.”
I laugh. “Trust me, I know you well enough to know that it’s pointless to fight you on anything you get stuck in your head.”
She drops her hand from my shoulder and smiles. “See? You get me. I knew we would come to an understanding eventually.” She turns her attention to her real sister. “Are we all set with the bachelorette party?”
“What bachelorette party?” I ask.
“Lunch at my house the day before,” Jenny says. “No big parties for this fiancée.” She jabs her thumb in May’s direction. “She’s pregnant, so we’re not allowed to have too much fun, unlike the men.”
“The men?” I ask. This is all news to me.
“Yeah. The guys are going to some bar tonight. I thought you knew,” May answers.
I shrug. “Lucky didn’t tell me anything about it.” There’s no reason for him to do that, really; we haven’t laid claim to one another, even though we’ve spent every night of the last three weeks together at the house.
I have to work at not being annoyed. I switch my focus back to May’s shindig at Jenny’s. “You can still have a stripper if you’re pregnant, you know.”
The two sisters open their mouths but nothing comes out.
“I was just joking. Relax.” Kind of joking.
Jenny puts her finger on her chin and looks up at the ceiling, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I don’t know . . . Maybe we could do it.”
“Don’t you dare.” May has lowered her voice to a whisper and she’s looking around as if making sure no one has heard her.
I can’t resist; I raise my voice so I can be heard across the entire store. “I think a stripper is a great idea, May! Great suggestion! Do you want the same Village People group tha
t we used for your birthday party?!”
May comes at me like a slap-o-matic, her hands waving in front of her in a blur as she reaches out to make contact with my body. I hold my forearms up to fend her off, laughing so hard it makes my stomach ache. This feels way better than worrying about Lucky hooking up with some random girl at a bar during a bachelor party while I’m at home being pregnant.
“I didn’t say that!” she yells, looking over her shoulder at the salesgirls, who are staring at us. “I don’t like strippers!”
Jenny is laughing right along with me. The two of us duck and run to the cash register. May decides not to follow us, going out of the store and into the mall. Jenny and I stand at the counter grinning like fools, both of us out of breath.
She holds up a hand and I give her a high-five.
“Good one,” she says.
“Yeah, I thought so.” My veins feel like they’re pumped full of happy drugs. I guess shopping with May and Jenny can actually be fun. Huh. Imagine that.
I’m tempted to text Lucky and ask him what his plans are for tonight, but I resist. It’s his life to do with what he wants, and if he wants to go party, he should go party. I’ll just go to bed early.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
I’m sound asleep in my bed when a banging coming from downstairs wakes me up. Then there’s a bunch of weird beeping as Lucky tries to turn off the alarm. He texted me as I was leaving the mall to say that he’d be out late at the bachelor party, so I wasn’t expecting to see him until the sun was up, but it’s pitch black out and a glance at the alarm clock tells me it’s three in the morning. My ears perk up when I hear more beeps than I should.
Oh shit. He got the code wrong. I run out of my room, but not before the alarm starts going off. As I race down the stairs, I hear cussing mixing with the siren, and I can smell the booze on him before I get to the bottom step.
I stride over and push him out of the way so I can punch in the correct code and shut the alarm off. It stops squealing in our ears, but now I have to get to the telephone in the kitchen so I can talk to the dispatcher whose job it is to check on activated alarms. It rings within thirty seconds and I’m there waiting. I pick up the handset and give the operator my secret code so she won’t send the cops over.
After thanking the operator for her diligence, I slam the headset back down against its cradle and turn around to glare at Lucky.
He’s right behind me, running his hands through his hair. It’s standing up all over the place and, along with his rumpled clothes and crazy beard, makes him look like he just spent the night in a gutter. He should look ugly to me, but he doesn’t. He’s just as hot as ever, but he woke me from a sound sleep after partying it up with the other members of our team, so I’m not feeling very charitable.
I fold my arms over my chest and glare at him.
“Hey, babe.” He gives me a sheepish grin.
“I was sleeping.”
“I know. I tried to be quiet.” His words are slurred.
I don’t remember ever seeing him this drunk before. He starts to lose some of his attractiveness when I realize who he reminds me of: Charlie.
I shove past him to go upstairs, but he grabs my wrist and pulls me to him.
I yank my hand from his grasp and back up a step. “Don’t.” My voice comes out sharp with an edge of fear to it. My heart is fluttering in my chest and adrenaline is flowing into my veins. I’m having some kind of flashback. All I can think about right now is Charlie and what he used to do to me.
It was always the beginning of any bad moments between us, when he would go out and get drunk and then come home and try to interact with me. Nobody has perfect control when they’ve had that much booze, I don’t care who they are. Lucky is no different.
Lucky frowns, reaching weakly for me. “Come on, babe. Don’t be like that.”
I’m furious. How dare he come home to me like this. He knows Charlie used to do that and that it never ended well.
I slap his hand away and glare at him as he sways on his feet. “Be like what? Be like a pregnant person who doesn’t appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night by a drunk asshole?”
He pulls his furry chin into his chest, almost stumbling with the effort. “Wow. That’s harsh. What’d I do to you?”
I shake my head at him, realizing that this conversation is completely pointless. He’s too drunk to even know what he’s saying or doing. He probably won’t remember any of it in the morning.
“Never mind. I’m going to bed. You can sleep in the other room.”
He is so not getting anywhere near me with that stinking booze-breath of his. And he’s drunk enough that he’ll probably try to touch me, and then I’d have to break one of his bones. It’s not worth taking the chance.
I attempt to walk past him, but he grabs me again. When I try to wrench myself out of his grip, he holds on tighter.
I pause my efforts to escape in an attempt to get a handle on my emotions. Really bad things could happen right now if I’m not careful. I take a deep breath in and out before turning to look at him. My wrist remains trapped between us.
“Lucky . . . you need to let me go. You’re drunk and you’re acting stupid, and I don’t have a lot of patience for that tonight.”
His voice softens. “But I need to talk to you about something. It’s super important.”
I sigh really loudly at him so he’ll know how annoying I find him. “Fine. What is it? Hurry up, because it’s late and I have to go to work in the morning.”
“Work?” He’s frowning in confusion. “It’s the weekend.”
I shake my head, realizing I almost revealed my secret. I plan to do a little more recon on Charlie’s mother tomorrow. I’ve been driving around her neighborhood off and on over the past three weeks when I’ve had time alone after work, making sure she’s there, seeing who she spends time with in the evening, getting to know her routines. Last time I heard, she was single, but it’s been a while. So far I haven’t seen anything to tell me different, but I need to be sure. I have no desire to spill my guts to a crowd. This has to be just between us.
“I meant shopping. I have to go shopping for the wedding.” That little lie will guarantee me a solo trip. Lucky is no more into these wedding plans than I am.
“Oh. Well, okay. I’ll probably be sleeping and then suffering a major hangover.” He smiles and hiccups, putting the back of his hand up to his mouth and wiping his lips.
I raise an eyebrow at him. “You had something you wanted to tell me?”
“Yeah.” Now he’s animated again, his eyes sparkling. He leans toward me and takes my other hand in his. We’re standing face to face and there isn’t enough space between us. His breath is like high-octane, pure alcohol stink coming at me in waves.
My instinct is to fight him off and get away, but I don’t. Settle down . . . this isn’t Charlie; it’s Lucky. He’s not going to hurt you.
His words come out all jumbled together. “I was thinking tonight, when I was out. About stuff. About us. And I was seeing all these girls dancing around and the guys joking around and stuff . . . but I really wasn’t having any fun.”
I shake my head at him. “I find that really hard to believe. This is the booze talking.”
He steps a little closer, giving me a clear view of his bloodshot eyes. “No, I swear. I used to like that stuff, but now that I’ve been here with you, and the peas are coming . . .”
“Peas?”
He glances down at my belly. “Peas in the pod. Two of ’em.” He looks up and grins at me before continuing. “I just don’t like the same things that I used to like. They make me mad, actually.” He shakes his head and looks confused, as if he doesn’t understand himself.
I shrug, realizing what he’s trying to say, even though he’s drunk as a skunk and probably talking out of his ass. “I know what you mean. I used to be right there with you guys, but now I just want to stay in and beat your ass at board games.” I give him a sad smile.
“I guess this is the beginning of my new, lame life.”
He squeezes my hands and looks at me so earnestly it almost makes me sad. “See? That’s what I mean. We’re both moving in the same direction. We both want the same things. But you don’t win at those board games—you lose, but that’s okay. I still love you. And we’re having a family together. You know what that means?”
Forget the fact that he just used the L word on me again; I can write that off as a natural side effect of too much alcohol. I fear something worse is about to happen. I shake my head at him, worried about where he’s going with this. I should shut him up, but I don’t. Something inside of me wants to see where this is going to end.
“No,” I say. “Why don’t you tell me what it all means, Mister Drunk Philosopher?”
He grins, spreading his alcohol-induced happiness all over me. “It means we love each other and we should get married. We should totally do it, just like Ozzie and May.” He lowers himself unsteadily onto one knee as he looks up at me, swaying to the side a bit before he rights himself.
My heart seizes up in fear and frustration. Before he can gather himself enough to speak, I make my move; I have to act fast to keep him from destroying everything. I lean over and shove him on both shoulders, knocking him down.
He falls onto his side in the hallway, his head banging the wall. “Hey! What’re you doing?” he slurs out. “I was going to propose to you.”
I walk by him and kick him in the ribs as I go. “Don’t you dare.”
I am so pissed right now, I’m almost to the point where I could shoot him, and that’s never a good place for me to be. I run up the stairs to my bedroom and slam the door behind me, locking it to be sure he can’t follow. I knew he was drunk, but I didn’t know he was that drunk. Holy shit.
I pace the floor of my room, wondering what I should do next. Angry tears fall and I swipe them away. He’s wasted, and obviously stupid, so I’m afraid to leave him alone. But I don’t want to see him either.
This whole situation makes me feel cheap, like a girl not worthy of a normal life, of real, unadulterated, pure love. Every bad thought I have about myself is confirmed because Lucky thought it was a good idea to get wasted and then declare his love for me. Am I really the kind of girl who gets proposed to only after a night of drunken, strip-club debauchery? Apparently, I am. I haven’t felt this low around Lucky ever.
