Текст книги "Doing It for Love"

Автор книги: Cassie Mae

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Chapter 28

Even though I proposed our cheat, Landon didn’t take me up on it. Instead he went to work and asked to cash in later. But it’s been five weeks since the naked argument, and I haven’t seen Lord Landon since. The worst part? I haven’t really noticed. Not with all the Wedding Hurdles.

Dress Hurdle…well, I finally gave up on the dress. It was enough to drive me to The Cheesecake Factory with my last ten bucks where I received a phone call from Satan my future mother-in-law to inform me that they’re coming in for Christmas.

Cue in-law Hurdle.

My mom and dad are already in New York and staying until the wedding, which means Landon and I need to stand united on the in-law warpath, but the closer the wedding date comes, the farther we drift apart, only half-murmuring “love you”s whenever we see each other. It makes me wonder if he’s just as terrified as I am that we’ll be husband and wife in less than a month.

Cue the biggest Hurdle…don’t be scared of forever being the vegetables of lovemaking. Because after we were raisin bran, we went right back to peas and carrots. It’s inevitable.

After I got off the phone with Landon’s mom, Theresa ordered me another piece of double raspberry, (enabler!), but I ended up staring at it with this weird eye twitch and so we packed it up and it’s been sitting in my fridge.

Speaking of our fridge, it was practically empty. And unless my family wants to have a box of baking soda and that teeny slice of cheesecake for Christmas dinner, I have to do something I know will piss Landon off.

I have to ask for help.

I don’t want to be a mooch. I get his mind-set when it comes to asking for help, but he has to understand where I’m coming from. All I want to do is ask Mom if she’d be willing to take some of the wedding money and put it into Christmas dinner. Landon and I have stretched the honeymoon fund to its limit. I have exactly enough for two plane tickets and a hotel for two nights. It’s not the longest honeymoon in the world, but it’s something. And if I use any more, we’ll be celebrating our marriage on our couch.

I take a deep breath before knocking on our guest room door. Mom and Dad are noisy houseguests, so I have to knock a few times before the chatter stops and Dad finally opens up.

“Oh, we weren’t expecting company,” he jokes, pretending to straighten his nonexistent hair. “Please, please, come in, but excuse the mess.”

“Is the lady of the house in? I need to discuss an important matter with her.” I play along as Dad shoves the loose underwear under the bed. I try not to cringe, opting for looking at Mom paint her nails red and green. ’Tis the season and all.

“Madam Fanning. A charming young woman requests your presence in the dining hall.” Dad gestures to the card table you can see peeking down the hallway. Mom rolls her eyes at the both of us when I curtsy, and he kisses my hand. She blows on her nails as we make our way to the “dining hall.”

“So…how much money is in the wedding budget?” No point in beating around the bush.

“Well, with the cost of your dress lowering, we have an extra few hundred. I was going to use it to cover the flowers, since Landon’s mother wasn’t too keen on helping with those.”

“You talked to Landon’s mom?” I thought Landon said he’d do it…

Mom nods, continuing to blow across her freshly painted nails. “They’ll take care of the groom’s attire.”

“So his tux.”

She nods again.

“Mom…why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want you to worry about it.”

Now I feel like utter shit. I slump my shoulders and rest my chin in my palm. So much for a Christmas dinner. It’ll be Top Ramen Thanksgiving all over again.

“What was that?” Mom asks, pausing her nail drying.

“Nothing.”

“No…Elizabeth, you said something.”

I huff out a breath and repeat the thought that must’ve escaped my mouth. “I don’t have any food for dinner tomorrow night, and Landon’s family is coming in. I was just hoping…but it’s okay. I’ll figure something out.” Bye-bye honeymoon money.

Mom plucks up my chin, being careful not to ruin her nails. “Let’s go get a turkey.”

“Mom…”

“It’s a compromise. I’ll buy, you cook.”

“I’ll probably poison everyone.”

“I’ll supervise.”

I sniff, not even realizing how hard it is to say okay until that moment. Now I really understand why Landon hates asking for help. I feel so pathetic. How am I supposed to get married if I can’t even…?

I slam my eyes shut before I finish the thought.

“Thank you, Mom.”

And I hug her before she sees a single tear escape from my eyes.

–

“Most people use frames, but this is creative and you don’t have to worry about making the place look classy.”

I force a polite smile at Mrs. Wangford as she gazes at our collage wall, and Landon moves the wine bottle away from me. He doesn’t have to worry about me getting drunk off my ass, though. My mom’s been firing the veiled insults right back at her—the comment about how Mrs. Wangford sure knows how to pull off gray hair almost had me pulling a super-mature high-five gesture. So I’ve been trying to busy myself with dinner so I don’t come off badly.

Cooking is not my strong suit, but I followed the instructions on the turkey bag, and I pulled out that gross gizzard crap before sliding it in the oven. Now, five hours later, the aroma is making me feel like the best damn cook in the world…even though I’m microwaving the corn.

Mom has taken it upon herself to make a wedding book, and currently she’s showing our very few choices for the invitations. They have to go out Monday, and after getting the pictures back from Helen the photographer, I basically handed that Hurdle to my mother because I couldn’t find one photo that satisfied me.

“Oh, this one is beautiful,” Mrs. Wangford says, pointing at the snowball fight photo. “Libby almost looks like she’s out of high school.”

“It’s Lizzie, Mom,” Landon argues from behind me in the kitchen. He’s helping mash the potatoes, and by the way it’s going, those potatoes will be paste by the time he’s done.

“That’s what I said.”

Mom doesn’t miss a beat, smiling just as sour sweetly at Mrs. Wangford. “If only we all looked younger than we are, am I right, Judy?”

Mrs. Wangford’s horribly fake smile twitches. “Oh, it’s Julie.”

Mom looks at her dead-on. “That’s what I said.”

Landon starts choking on nothing but air, and he turns to the oven to cover his laugh. I give him one good swat on the back, then run my hand to the back of his head and squeeze twice. He quirks a grin my direction, puts the potato masher down, and squeezes my hip once.

It’s the most romantic moment we’ve had all month.

The timer on the oven buzzes, cutting through the death glares our moms are giving each other, and Landon waves me from our tiny kitchen so he can pull my badass turkey out. It’s not black and smells like heaven, so I’m calling it a win.

“Let me see it,” I say, bouncing back into the kitchen when Landon taps the oven door closed. The juice in the bottom of the bag is boiling, and the top of the turkey looks well-seasoned and very Christmasy. Score. Maybe Landon’s mom won’t have anything backhanded to say about my cooking skills.

Landon cuts open the bag, and the aroma fills our apartment so much that Dad is already making his way to our foldout card table, tucking his napkin into his shirt. Mom bats Landon out of the kitchen and tells him to sit while she teaches me how to carve. I honestly think she just wants some distance from Mrs. Wangford.

“She’s a real piece of work,” she says out of the side of her mouth when she sidles up next to me by the oven. “I’m ready to start drinking.”

“I think your tongue is loose enough,” I joke, grabbing a long knife from the side drawer.

“Oh, not that one. Get the one with the serrated edges.”

I swap knives and grab the pitchfork for food or whatever that thing is called, but stop when I see Mom’s furrowed brow as she examines my beautiful turkey.

“Mom?”

“Hmmm…” she says thoughtfully, peeling some of the turkey bag down. “It…looks different.”

“Do I need to cook it longer?”

“Can I see that knife?”

I hand it over, heart suddenly pounding too hard because, crap, have I messed up something else? But she cuts into the side of the turkey, and it looks good to me.

“Oh, honey,” she says with a laugh, “you cooked it upside down.”

My eyebrows pull in. “There’s a right side up?”

She nods, running the blade across the moist turkey. “This is all dark meat, see? The turkey goes in breast up.”

And that moment is the first I ever drop the big curse bomb in front of my mother.

“Elizabeth Ann,” she scolds, whacking me with an oven mitt.

“I’m sorry.” I’m not sorry. “But mother-in-law from hell is going to say something about this!”

Mom nods, stabbing the turkey in the center and flopping it around. And in her lovely haste to save me from insults, she splashes us both with blazing-hot turkey juice.

And that moment is the second I ever drop the big curse bomb in front of my mother. It’s a lot louder this time.

Landon and Dad rush to the kitchen while Mom and I scream and turn on the cold water in the sink. We strip out of our aprons and fight over who gets more water, jabbing our arms under the stream.

“Get the toothpaste, Paul,” Mom babbles at my dad. He turns back around the corner, and Landon reaches for my shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“We have to get it off you.”

“My dad’s coming back in!”

Landon pulls his shirt off, grabs mine, and swaps them out so fast Mom doesn’t even have a chance to see what kind of bra I’m wearing.

She does get a nice view of Landon’s bare chest, though. We’re all officially family now.

Dad sidles past Landon, double-taking the half-nudity, and hands Mom the toothpaste. She twists the cap off, grabs my arm, and goops me up.

“What…”

“It helps the burn,” she says, but she doesn’t have to. I can already feel it starting to work. Landon runs out and comes back seconds later with another tube and a shirt for himself. He gets to work on the rest of my burned skin while Dad covers Mom.

“Is everything okay in there?” comes the overly joyful voice of Satan.

I look up at Landon, neck burning not only from the juice.

“We’re fine!” he says, then rubs Aquafresh across my collarbone. I hiss in a breath.

“My nose is fine, Paul.” Mom giggles, swatting Dad on the shoulder as he attempts to spread toothpaste across her face. I gaze over Landon’s shoulder at them, and as they tease each other, I see no peas and carrots. I don’t see dessert, either. I kind of see…well, everything.

“Feel better?” Landon asks, capping the tube.

“How do I look?”

“Like something out of The Walking Stiff.” He sets the toothpaste on the counter. “But you smell good.”

“What happened?” Dad asks, eyeing the mess on the stove.

“Mom decided to shower us with turkey juice.”

She gasps. “Don’t you blame this all on me!”

Dad tickles her hip, and I grin like a big buffoon because they’ve been together for over twenty-five years and they are still doing things like that.

“Okay, I’ll carve.”

He takes the knife, and Landon says he’ll set the table while Mom and I sit with the Wangfords. I sort of want to take my chances with the turkey.

The reactions to our toothpaste skin are pretty much what I expected. At least I’m getting to know my future in-laws. Mr. Wangford stands from the table and asks if we’re okay. We are, but he doesn’t sit till we do. Mrs. Wangford doesn’t make a comment about our appearance, but she wrinkles her nose.

Dad and Landon get everything to the table, and after my momma says a quick prayer, she starts dishing out food.

Mrs. Wangford doesn’t eat a bite of turkey. Figures. Of course, it’s too bad for her, because it’s the best-tasting thing on this planet. Cooking it upside down actually made it juicier and more tender. I make no attempt to impress Mrs. Stick-Up-Her-Ass, slurping my food and smiling with it between my teeth. Landon shakes his head and laughs at me, but his amusement could be from the toothpaste all over my body.

I’m changing the In-law Hurdle to “Don’t let them bother you.” I’m hoping it’s not as difficult as the other Hurdle was.

Chapter 29

JANUARY

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…” Jace mutters at the TV in his studio apartment, sliding to the edge of the couch and clutching his beer. It’s 21-14 in favor of the Titans, but the Jets are closing in on the end zone. I’d pay more attention, but it’s not like the Falcons are playing.

Landon pushes a salsa-covered chip at me, and I open wide for him to shove that sucker in. We both laugh as the salsa collects in the corners of my mouth.

“Yes!” Jace hollers, both he and Alec getting to their feet and victory dancing. Landon stays seated on the recliner, but probably only because I’m occupying his lap.

The Jets make the touchdown and then the extra point, tying the game and sending us right into a commercial break. I get up from Landon’s lap with a butt wiggle in the face, then offer to get anyone another beer while I grab a water. I’m trying to drop a couple pounds, so I’m avoiding chocolate and alcohol till the wedding. But I’m not completely strict about dieting, considering I hop back into Landon’s lap and let him stuff my face with more chips.

I still have my Spanx if I need them.

“Where’s Chantal?” I ask Jace as soon as he’s settled into the couch with a fresh beer. After the movie wrapped, I expected the girl he’s been seeing to hang out with us a bit, but he’s empty-handed whenever we get together.

He shrugs. “She went home for Christmas. Decided to stay there for a bit.”

“How long is ‘a bit’?”

“I think permanently.”

Landon shifts under me, and I lock eyes with him long enough for him to give me the neck-slicing gesture. Okay, no more Chantal questions.

“It’s back on,” Alec says, and all our attention goes to the game. Well, minus Landon, who is running a hand up and down my thigh. He gives me a half-smile when I catch his gaze, then he shakes his head and sighs.

He’s been acting weird all night. Well…actually…he’s been acting weird since the naked argument. I can feel the shift in our relationship, too, and I don’t even know what it is. We touch and kiss and cuddle, but there hasn’t been that desire for more, and honestly, I don’t remember the last time we talked. Like, really talked. And bitterly I think maybe we’re already married and we don’t even know it.

He sighs again, and so I lean in close to his ear. “What’s up, Buttercup?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

He does another half-smile, then slides his phone out and shows me a text from his sister.

Hey. Mom and Dad want to talk to you. If I were you I’d stop by the hotel and just hash it out. Don’t bring Liz.

Well, isn’t that just peachy? I try to force a smile, even though my stomach feels like that salsa was made out of Legos, and say in a singsong whisper, “You’re in trouble.”

“Probably,” he says, sliding his phone into his pocket. He’s not even teasing me back, so I drop the playfulness, settle my head on his shoulder, and give him a good squeeze.

“Do you want to go?” I ask.

“No.”

“Do you think you should?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be okay here.”

He sighs, breath warming my forehead, and then he gently strokes my hair. “It may be a while.”

“Hey, Alec?” I say, adjusting on Landon’s lap. “Be my chauffeur again? Landon has to visit his parents and I don’t want to be in the line of fire.”

He laughs around his beer and nods. I turn back to Landon with a smile. It’s one of those scared-as-hell smiles I’ve pretty much been wearing this entire engagement.

“Go. Hear what they have to say. And don’t call off the wedding unless they offer you a million dollars.”

“Ten million.”

“Glad to know what I’m worth.”

He gives me his sort-of-laugh, the one I’ve been hearing for weeks now, and then nudges me from his lap. He doesn’t kiss me goodbye, and I don’t move to kiss him either, and the sad thing is I don’t notice until he’s been gone for at least ten minutes.

We are peas and carrots.

“It’s not you,” Alec says, pulling my attention from wherever my brain was wandering.

“Huh?”

“Landon’s mom wouldn’t have approved of anyone.”

“She sure seemed fond of his exes.”

Jace snorts, kicking his feet out and leaning back into the couch.

“What are you laughing at?” I ask him.

“Nothing. I’ve just met some of those exes and there was nothing to be ‘fond’ of. Mom Wangford is just trying to unhinge you.”

I know that, but it doesn’t make me feel better.

“You don’t think he’ll call it off, do you?”

Jace snorts again, and Alec shakes his head.

“Honestly, I think he’s more worried about you calling it off.”

“Me? Why?”

Alec shrugs, but Jace doesn’t catch it and starts spouting off what I’m sure Landon had under the “bro code.”

“He saw that list you keep on your computer. Said you were scared of vegetables or something, and he just doesn’t have the balls to talk to you about it.”

My mouth drops open. I knew I shouldn’t have added that Hurdle. It’s not that being peas and carrots is necessarily a deal-breaker. It’s that it totally sucks to be peas and carrots.

“Shit.”

Jace shakes his head, reaching over to pat my knee. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Landon was nearly pissing himself before he proposed, but then he’d look at your ring and he was excited about strapping on the ball and chain.”

“There you go,” Alec says. “Just stare at his wedding ring and you’ll feel better.”

I nearly tumble out of the recliner. Oh, sweet balls, no.

“His ring.”

Jace lifts his eyebrows while Alec furrows his.

“Um, what?”

I continue to choke on my own breath as I stare blankly at both of them.

“Landon’s ring. I have to buy him a ring.”

“Yeah…?” Jace says, but Alec slams his eyes shut and releases a long breath because he knows. He knows what’s playing in my mind. The decreasing number in the honeymoon fund, the lack of income even with the overtime, and Landon’s empty left hand at the altar. I grab onto the arms of the recliner, try to balance myself, but I can’t. I slump to the floor. I hear Alec softly tell Jace, “Money, dude.”

My vision goes in and out of focus as I shake my head. How could I forget about his ring? I’ve had mine for months, twisting it, cleaning it, showing it off, staring at it, hugging it, and I hadn’t given one thought about putting one on his finger. Now we’re only a week away.

What am I going to do? It’s the ring or the honeymoon. You can’t have a wedding without rings. But you can’t have a wedding without the honeymoon. I feel the weight of a thousand Hurdles pound on my back, turning me into a rambling idiot on Jace’s floor, going on and on about all the meaningless wedding chores I gave myself. The no-sex rule, the wedding dress fiasco, the damn upside-down turkey, and how it means nothing now because I can’t buy my fiancé his ring.

Both guys look at me like they have no clue how to handle a woman and have been winging it up until this point. Jace clears his throat, pulls his phone out, and steps from the room while Alec pats my back. He keeps saying he’ll advance my paycheck, offer more hours, but I’m shaking my head because all the money from my paychecks needs to go into rent, utilities, food, normal grown-up things, and I suddenly feel so not ready for it at all.

“Beth Ann,” Jace says, tapping my shoulder and holding his phone out to me. I take it and try to steady my breathing.

“Hello?” I say into the receiver.

“Once upon a time, there was a boy with no fingers.”

“Landon—”

“And he desperately wanted just one…only one finger.”

“Your finger story will not change the fact that we—”

“On certain days, he desired a thumb. Days when his buddies would give him thumbs-up or when his friends played Thumbs Up, Seven Up, or had thumb wars. And he would make a wish to the skies for a thumb. But it never happened.

“Then, when he became a teenager, he wanted a middle finger to effectively describe how he felt toward certain things. All the other kids were doing it, and he’d love to stick it to someone like that. But of course, that wish went ignored, too.”

“He wished to give people the bird?” I say, and I feel myself wanting to laugh, but maybe I’ve forgotten how.

Landon ignores me. “He became a man, and fell in love with an out-of-his-league woman, and he desperately wanted a finger. And not to do what I know you’re thinking, dirty woman, but to wipe her tears away, to prod her chin, to link just one finger with hers. He begged the stars for one finger. Even just a pinky. But they didn’t answer.

“Then their wedding day came. The bride helped him button his shirt, tie his tie, and then kissed him on the lips. He cupped her face in his palms, all fingers gone, wishing out loud that he had just the one finger on his left hand so the world would know his heart had been stolen. And his bride brought her own finger to his lips and said, ‘The world will know because I will always be with you.’ She sealed it not with a ring, but with a promise in front of all their friends and family. And the man never felt the need to wish for another finger in his lifetime.”

“Landon…”

“I don’t need a ring. I just need you.”

Now I’m crying. “I just need you.”

“Then please, don’t worry about this.”

I pause, battling my nature to worry.

“All right.”

“All right.” He lets out one of those sighs, but it doesn’t make me nervous this time. “I’ll be home soon. Meet me there?”

“You want me to head out now?” I look to Alec, and he pushes off his knees and grabs his coat.

“Yeah. I…I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” And I say it the same way he did…as if we haven’t seen each other in weeks. I tap the end button on Jace’s cell and hand it back, then snort a little when my knees crack as I stand.

Alec sings to me on the way home, and I join in a few times but keep my voice low because he’s so much better than I am. He starts “I Get a Kick Out of You,” but I stop him, requesting “You Are My Dream” instead.

“I’ll walk up with you,” he says, parking in Theresa’s extra stall. “I gotta get something from Theresa.”

We hop into the elevator and I tease him by threatening to push all the buttons. He stands in front of them till we get to my floor.

The guy waiting for the elevator pushes inside before we can get out. Geez, buddy…and I almost say something out loud, but he’s huge and got a bag full of laundry or something, a guitar case, and a laptop, and I don’t want to get whacked. Alec puts his hand on the small of my back and moves me around elevator guy and onto the floor. I pull out my keys, but something catches my eye halfway down the hall and I stop dead. Alec takes a few steps ahead of me before stopping too.

“You okay?”

“Theresa’s door is open.” I point to the cracked door, darkness inside, and my heart kicks up in an offbeat pattern.

Alec grabs my elbow when I start marching over.

“No,” he says, and then moves in front of me to go first.

“I’m still coming with you,” I hiss back. I’ve got a pocketbook full of change I’m willing to swing in anyone’s face if I have to.

He takes cautious yet determined steps forward, nudging the door open wide and finding the light. I draw in a sharp breath, heart now beating through my ears. Theresa’s apartment is trashed; drawers open in the kitchen, balcony door open, and the storage unit spilling contents. I don’t even get out any words before Alec is charging down the hall toward the back bedroom. He trips over discarded belongings and shoes and what-have-you, bouncing off the walls, so I flip on the lights as we make our way to Theresa’s bedroom.

I have a feeling that elevator guy was not carrying laundry.