by M. E. Carter
I roll my eyes and follow his instructions. “You’re a really shitty workout partner, you know that? Always putting your job first?”
“I know. How dare I leave you on chest day to save someone’s life? There’s a special place in Hell for me.”
“Damn straight.”
We go through three more sets, then switch positions. And yes, I make multiple jokes about him being on bottom, which irritates the shit out of him, so I feel really accomplished. But it also gives me time to think more.
“How did you know you were bi?”
Nick cocks an eyebrow at me like he’s not the one who started this whole conversation. But now that we’re “sharing”, I have questions and no one else to ask anyway, so it might as well be him.
“It’s not really that hard to figure out. The attraction feels the same.”
“Oh, yeah. Right. I guess that’s not really what I meant. I meant…” I mop my brow with my towel again. “Yeah, I don’t know what I meant.”
“Is this about that chick again?”
I feel my eyes widen but quickly get myself under control. Just because I have questions doesn’t mean I feel like giving my own answers. So, I do what any man would do in my situation—I begin taking the weights off the bar and avoid all eye contact.
“What if it is?” I ask defensively.
He rolls his eyes. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. I want to make sure I know what we’re talking about so I can help you out, not so I can give you shit. I already said she’s cute.”
I observe his body language and facial expressions for as long as I can before he starts to think I’m flirting. Either he’s really good at deception or he really isn’t trying to give me grief. Might as well throw caution to the wind. At this point, I have no idea what I’m doing. “Yeah, it’s about Rian.”
“What’s the problem? You’re not new to dating.”
“No, I’m not new to hookups. But liking the person I’m with enough to continue long-term isn’t something I’m familiar with.”
He looks amused as we finish re-racking the weights and wiping down the bench. “You’re maturing, my friend.”
“Or I’m losing my mind.”
“Maybe. That’s what happens when you’ve been hiding from relationships for a long time and someone finally comes along who makes you want different things.”
“Is that what happened to you?”
He blushes and looks down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“When you realized you were bi.” Suddenly I notice his expression. “Wait. Did you… have you met someone?”
“What? Why would you think that?” He treks over to the other side of the room, me catching up quickly. There’s something he’s not telling me, and if I have to fess up, so does he.
“I was wondering if that’s how it felt when you realized you were bi, but suddenly you’ve gone all shy and emotional.” Grabbing his shoulder, I pull him to a halt and roughly turn him toward me. “You met someone, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know yet. Maybe?”
Well, now I’m really intrigued. If we’re both going to try out this relationship thing, we might as well talk each other through it. Or coach each other. Isn’t that something guys do? They don’t talk about their feelings or anything, but give each other advice and slaps on the ass or something?
“What’s she like? Wait. He? She? I don’t know how to have these conversations with you now.”
Nick laughs at my confusion and then points at me. “You don’t need to know because we’re not talking about this. I’m not even as into this person as you are to that person…” He points to Rian, who is doing her best side kick and failing miserably. Abel’s standing behind her trying to help her with her form, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she knocks them both off balance and they end up in a heap. “When I get there, we’ll talk. Until then, it’s just a thought stream. Nothing more.”
“Okay. I give,” I say, throwing my hands up in front of me. “But before I let this topic die, I’m just going to say one thing.”
He groans and wipes his hand down his face. “Yeah? What’s that?”
“Don’t worry about me. Eventually, I’ll get over the hurt of you picking him over me.”
He snaps me with his sweaty towel and demands we get back to work. But not before I look Rian’s direction right as my prediction comes true. Abel loses his balance just as Rian does and they tumble to the floor.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
RIAN
“My wedding is in four days, Rian. You can’t just change your RSVP at the last minute so a girlfriend can come with you.”
I roll my eyes as I follow Laney around the table, putting plates on top of the placemats after she sets them down. I’m trying really hard not to slam the plates down, no matter how angry she makes me. My mother saves these particular red plates for special family get togethers (also known as regularly weekly dinners), and I really don’t want to hear her bitching about how hard it is to find an individual matching plate because “Dillard’s never has the same patterns twice.” I’m not sure how hard it is to find a matching red plate on this little thing called the internet, but at this point, it’s a moot point anyway.
I just need to make it through two more hours of family time without breaking anything. There is a reason I’ve been avoiding this scenario for the last several weeks unless absolutely necessary. The closer it gets to the wedding date, the more psychotic my sister becomes. And the cuter her fiancé thinks her attitude is.
Of course, he does. He’s the one who has to take her home and not get shanked overnight. It wouldn’t behoove him to tell her to shut the hell up. Sleeping with one eye open is practically impossible.
Not breaking things, though, doesn’t mean I can’t fight back. “It never occurred to me that my sister wouldn’t give me the option of a plus-one,” I remark through gritted teeth. “If I had known my sister was trying to keep the wedding down to an intimate three hundred people, and not one person over, I wouldn’t have asked anyone to come with me. Silly me for not assuming I was a singleton. Will I be sitting at the kids table, too?”
I want to add that if she’s so worried about going over the maximum number of guests, I’m more than happy to skip it myself, but I don’t have enough patience for a guilt trip from my mother.
Laney ignores my jab about the seating arrangements, which means I’m probably being relegated to the back somewhere. I’ll address that issue later, if at all. At this point, it’s not worth fighting about if it means not having to sit with all her snotty friends and put up with their judgmental glares. “You don’t date, Rian. Why would it even occur to me that you would bring someone to my wedding?”
“I do, too, date. What, do you just think I’m some sort of recluse that sits at home and drowns her loneliness in a bowl of ice cream every night?”
Her eyes scan up and down my body like there’s an obvious answer to my question.
I gape at her, not quite sure why I’m unable to believe she would even go there. She’s been doing it a lot lately. Where did my sweet little sister go and why did she leave this horrible monster in her place? “Don’t look at me like that. And certainly, don’t forget that until you decided running was your life, you loved ice cream more than me, which is why you were the fat sister for ninety-five percent of our lives.”
She slams the napkins down on the table. “How dare you bring that up in front of Bradley?” The fiancé who is currently ignoring us and rubbing his stomach while watching a football game. “I worked hard to get where I am, and you have no right to make a mockery of my ability to take control of my health. Maybe if you would put down the fork for once, you wouldn’t feel compelled to resort to rude comments to make yourself feel better.”
I take a menacing step forward. We haven’t come to blows since we were in elementary school and she stole my pink bow on picture day. I got the bow back, but no one bothered to pull the grass out of my
hair which has always given us a good laugh, but not today. Today, I’m remembering how angry her condescending tone can make me and that I can kick her ass if it comes down to it. No wonder I like kickboxing so much. Subconsciously, I knew it would come in handy before this damn wedding.
“And maybe if you didn’t always belittle me and my body shape and how it’s going to ruin your wedding, I wouldn’t feel compelled to make rude comments,” I throw back at her.
Laney throws her hands in the air. Apparently being called out for your own bad behavior is exasperating. Seriously, when did she become such a princess? She was never this high maintenance until she put on a pair of running shoes and did that Couch Potato to 5K challenge. “Do you even know how hard it is to make all the colors and shapes proportionate and visually pleasing if not everyone matches?”
“Well, maybe if you still hung out with all those friends you ditched when you became a skinny bitch, you would have a fat guy friend who could be my escort!”
She gets ready to shoot off another barb, but before she does, it seems she has a light bulb moment. Turning to Bradley who has already mastered the art of ignoring his new bride, she asks, “Hey, babe. Do you think we could switch around the order of your best men so Kyle can be Rian’s escort? She’s right. That would balance everything out.”
I drop my chin to my chest in defeat as they begin chatting about who would look best escorting whom, because patterns or something. I don’t even know. I should have known better than to waste my breath arguing with her. She’s so far up in WeddingLand she can’t see the destruction in her own wake.
“It’s almost over,” my dad says as he brings in a giant pan of lasagna for my mom who has conveniently been hiding out in the kitchen during this exchange. “Just keep your mouth shut and focus on how much booze I’m paying for at this thing.”
This is the most my dad has ever spoken to me about my sister’s wedding. Actually, it’s the most he’s spoken during a family dinner since she got engaged. It never occurred to me until now that my mother and sister are probably driving him as crazy about it as they are me. And I can go home to get away from it. He’s stuck here in wedding hell. Poor man. I feel like we should hug it out or something.
My mother comes in, all smiles and oblivious to the smack down that almost was, with a salad that she strategically places right in front of my plate. I take a centering breath, resisting the temptation to roll my eyes about it again. I don’t know how many times I can tell her I’m fine. I’m on a diet and go to the gym regularly. But since I haven’t dropped a hundred pounds, she doesn’t believe me. Why can’t anyone believe that you can be heavy and healthy at the same time? My own doctor confirmed it the other day at my regular checkup.
“Okay, everyone. Let’s eat!” Mom claps her hands together like she’s a modern-day version of Carol Brady, and my sister and her plus-one make their way over to the table.
“You’re right, Rian,” my sister begins.
Wait. What did she just say? Is this… is this an apology?
Glancing over at my dad, I see an encouraging look on his face. Maybe he was right. Maybe this is just normal pre-wedding behavior and the sister who used to follow me around and tell me I was her hero is still in there somewhere.
“I am?” I ask cautiously, still not completely believing this is happening.
She nods at me and gives me a genuine smile. “You are. We can shift the bridal party to accommodate Kyle escorting you. Visually, it’ll be so much more appealing.”
I blink a few times but give no other response. I could start the fight back up again, but what will that accomplish? I genuinely don’t care about any spatial awareness in her wedding pictures or what weird friend of Bradley’s walks down the aisle with me. I’m only in this wedding because she’s my sister and deep down I love her, even if I don’t like her at all.
Instead, I choose to do what my dad has already advised—keep my mouth shut and focus on the booze. The wine he is currently pouring in my glass is proof enough that at least one person in the house recognizes that most of the women in this family are certifiably insane. The small nod of his head when I look at him for support is confirmation that we’re in this together.
Four days to go. Just four days to go and she’ll be on her honeymoon, my mother can throw away the fabric samples littering every spare surface of the house, and life can return to some sort of normal.
Settling into our seats, my mom immediately moves back into wedding planning mode. I guzzle more wine in reaction and my father doesn’t miss a beat giving me a refill. He’s a good man, that one. “So, what’s left to do on our list, anyway?”
My sister whips out a small spiral notepad from underneath the table. I have no idea where it came from. Was she sitting on it? Is there a shelf under there? Who knows. Regardless, I’m both impressed and slightly irritated that she’s basically a magician.
Flipping through the book, she begins to read down the list. “Let’s see. We need to make sure my dress is steam ironed. The guys are picking up the tuxes on Friday. Don’t forget to make sure the cummerbunds are slate gray, not metallic gray, Bradley. They aren’t the same, and it’ll totally clash if someone has the wrong color.” She gives him a pointed stare. He just smiles and nods as he sprinkles parmesan cheese on his lasagna. “The rehearsal dinner needs to be confirmed. Are you positive we got the large back room, Mom? You know that front room will be too small and the staff at Omise is always trying to book that one first. I’m sure they like the visibility for customers to see they have the space, but I just don’t think it’s enough room.”
“I’ll have your father call and double check tomorrow, honey.” My mother shakes her head in rejection as I pass the lasagna plate to her, opting for a larger than normal serving of salad instead. I shrug and dig into the noodles myself. Normally, I’d follow my mother’s lead, but it’s my cheat day. I refuse to feel guilty.
“Okay.” Laney puts down the notepad and dishes out her own oversized portion of salad. “I think the last thing on our list is to finalize the seating chart. I was almost done but Rian,” she practically spits my name in my face across the table, “decided at the last minute to bring a date.”
“Oh!” My mother claps her hands together in delight. “I didn’t know you were dating someone. Is this a new thing?”
I nod and take a deep breath, grateful for the conversation change. I’m not thrilled it’s moved to my love life, but I’ll take what I can get at this point. “It is. We’ve known each other for a while, but this will be our first official date.”
“You really think bringing him to my wedding, especially when you have bridesmaid’s duties, is the best idea when you’re trying to impress a guy?”
My irritation returns, but I try to tamp it down. “I’m not trying to impress him, Laney. I’ve already done that. I’m bringing him because we enjoy each other’s company. And because you’re driving me to drink,” I add, mumbling into my wine glass as I take a sip.
Unfortunately, she doesn’t miss my snark. “What was that?”
“Oh, nothing,” I feign indifference. “Just needing another drink.”
My dad takes that as his cue to refill my glass for a second time. At this rate, I’m going to be rip-roaring drunk by the time the dishes are cleared. My sister, on the other hand, continues looking at me with critical eyes.
Finally, I can’t take her stare anymore. “What?” I blurt out.
“Rian, are you sure you should be eating that?” Laney points at my plate.
I purposely place my fork on the table as gently as possible, knowing my arms are stronger than they look, and this plate doesn’t have a chance if I lose my cool. Crossing said arms, I lean them on the table. “And why would you ask me that?”
I shouldn’t go there right before her wedding. I know I shouldn’t, but I am itching for a fight being in this house and am already feeling the effects of the alcohol. Plus, after being under fire for the last several months abou
t everything in my life, about the digs on everything from my weight, to my date, to my job, I can’t help myself.
My sister doesn’t even notice how close I am to losing my shit. “Because we don’t have anymore fittings for the dresses.”
Aaaaaand that’s it. I’m done. Wiping my mouth with my napkin, I turn to my mother. “Thank you for dinner. I need to go.”
“What? But we just started eating.” I barely register her protests as I stand and smooth down my shirt. It’s unnecessary for the shirt, but idle hands and all that.
I ignore the protests of my sister, who is spouting off about how overly sensitive I am, and my mother’s complaints about wasting food. Instead, I grab my bag off the floor to make my way out.
The last thing I say before walking away from them all is “See ya, Dad,” as I kiss him on the cheek. I might be mistaken, but I swear he smiles in support and understanding as I leave.
I know today is a rest day and a cheat day, but this crap has me all wound up. Looks like I need to box out some frustrations. Good thing Weight Expectations has locations all over the greater Chicago area. And I’ve got a free pass to use the closest one to me.
Finally, a silver lining to that whole fire thing. Membership has its perks, after all.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
CARLOS
This week has been a blur. We haven’t been this busy at work in a long time. Really, it’s my fault for not anticipating better. I’ve worked for Quinn long enough to know when he starts off a sentence with “We’re expanding into…” or “We’re upgrading our systems…”, I should immediately clear my schedule. When he says both in the same conversation, I might as well cancel any and all vacation time and immediately contract a caterer to bring dinner every night.
Granted, we’ve made several new hires, added multiple client accounts including Rian’s delicate project, updated our accounting system, and changed the provider in charge of our employee stock options, but all of that has led to some very late nights in the office. The long hours have also cut my time at the gym short, which I hate, but the bright side is I’ve had more time with Rian. A lot more time. I told her several times this week she didn’t need to stay late. None of the expansions have anything to do with her specific job. Plus, she’s still in training. But she insisted on taking advantage of the extra hours to get up to speed as quickly as possible and lend a hand where needed. Secretly, I think she was also using it as an excuse to stay far away from her family.
