by Cora Kenborn
He meant to be a smartass, but I was pregnant and had no shame. “Originally? You. Which caused this.” Quirking an eyebrow, I pointed to my swollen belly. “Which led to eight months of insanity that contributed to landing my sister in jail.”
“Addie, are you still blaming me for being pregnant? It’s not like I meant to...” I didn’t try and stop him this time. I just let it ride out until the last part of my sentence hit his brain and detonated. “Wait, did you say Savannah is in jail?”
This was where I jumped on the pregnancy hormone Tilt-a-Whirl because when I said it, it didn’t sound so bad. However, the minute Zep said the words, I felt my lips and eyes scrunch up in what was probably the ugliest cry face ever. Then, to make it extra attractive, I snorted like Kevin when Sav tried to feed him vegetables.
“Jesus, Addie, calm down.” Pushing off the door, Zep took me in his arms again and sat us both on the couch.
Somewhat calming down, I lifted my face off his shoulder and wiped my nose on his shirt. “I probably shouldn’t act like I’m surprised, huh?”
Zep either didn’t notice there was a huge glob of snot on his shoulder or didn’t care as he shook his head.
Wearing someone’s snot, now that’s love.
“What happened?”
Zep’s eyes widened, and his face alternately paled and reddened as I recounted everything from Savannah getting pulled over by Deputy Doogie and getting arrested, to being handcuffed to a chair, to Babs trying to pull a prison break right under Doogie’s nose. The only thing I left out was the jailhouse wedding. I figured I’d ease him into that. He stayed quiet for a few moments, stroking his beard and never taking his eyes off me. Finally, he gripped the back of the couch and threw his head back.
“You fucking let Babs drive you to the station? Have you lost your mind?”
Weaving my fingers through his beard, I grabbed his chin and pulled his attention back toward my face. “Focus, Zep! Beyond almost taking out a few pedestrians, she didn’t do a half bad job for not being behind the wheel for thirty years.”
“Okay, so how did Pope take the news when you told him?”
I shrugged and dropped my hand back into my lap. “Surprisingly well. They talked it out, and even though Sav was convinced he’d leave, he’s adamant he still wants to get married.”
His eyes widened. “But she’s not being arraigned until Monday.”
“Yep.”
“The wedding is tomorrow, Addie.”
“Yep.”
“Saturday afternoon tomorrow.”
“Mmmhmm.”
Just when I thought that last bit of “holy shit info” had been dropped and I could get busy pulling a miracle out of my ass, Zep doubled over in laughter, holding his stomach as if I’d just told him the funniest joke he’d ever heard.
“Your sister is getting married to a police officer in jail?” He stopped as another round of obnoxious laugher hit him, and he fell backward on the couch. “Where are they going to find a justice of the peace on such short notice?”
“Well, here’s the thing…”
His hysterical amusement immediately stopped, and he pointed his finger at me, his face becoming deathly serious. “Don’t look at me like that, Addie. Every time you give me that look, I end up with a kid or on a plane to Vegas.”
I smirked. “And both involved neither of us being able to walk for days. Are you complaining?”
“No,” he said, wiping away a few leftover tears from my cheek, “It’s just that you don’t act sane when it comes to Savannah.”
“I don’t act sane when it comes to anyone I love, Zep. You should know that.” The second the words came out of my mouth, I froze. I couldn’t speak, and I wasn’t entirely sure I didn’t piss myself.
At first, the bastard tried to hide it, but eventually, a slow smirk spread across his face. Within five seconds, that smirk became a full-fledged grin, and it suddenly felt like I’d just swallowed a bag of cotton balls.
I have to do something.
Maneuvering myself off the couch, I moved back to the doorway where I’d dropped my purse and grunted as I reached inside for my phone. Tucking it under my arm, I headed toward the dining room table where I kept my “Savannah Wedding Manifesto” and sat down, obsessively flipping through the pages. I heard him get off the couch and take his time following me into the kitchen. However, in usual Addie style, I ignored it, praying he’d pretend I hadn’t opened my mouth.
I could smell him behind me. Leaning one hand on the back of my chair, he moved my hair to one side with the other. “Tell me again.”
“I have twelve hours to plan a wedding, Zep.”
His lips paused halfway to my shoulder. “What wedding?”
“Savannah and Pope’s!”
Did we not just have this conversation?
“It’s just them and your family, right? I mean, what are you gonna do, bring their wedding out of the church and inside a cell?”
“That’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”
“Addie, that’s insane.” Moving to the side of me, he motioned to my big fat wedding book filled with notes, cut-out photos, emergency plans, backup plans, back up plans for the backup plans and then shook his head. “You can’t make all that happen before one o’clock tomorrow afternoon. It can’t be done.”
God, sometimes he was infuriating. Popping my hands on my hips, which by the way wasn’t such an easy feat at eight months pregnant, I arched an eyebrow. “I can do this, Zep. I have to do this. I’m the maid of honor.”
“You’re also eight months pregnant. You need to breathe, baby. Hell, pick some flowers out of that bitch’s yard next door, crank up some shit on iTunes, and call it a day.” Pulling his phone out of his pocket, I watched as he pushed a few buttons until he found the playlist he wanted and grinned as he handed it to me.
Florida Georgia Line? I can’t believe I’m procreating with this man.
“It’s like you don’t even know me. No sister of mine will carry a bouquet of stolen azaleas or walk down the,” I paused and rephrased, “I mean across her cell to This is How We Roll!”
“You’re right.” Nodding, he cued up another song and turned it around. “I think Friends in Low Places works better.”
It was bad enough that my one and only sister was getting married inside a jail cell while standing next to a urinal, but the father of my child was now treating it like his personal reality show.
Dropping my head in my hands, I let out a heavy sigh. “Please, Zep. I’m doing this with or without you. It’d be a hell of a lot easier with you.”
“Do you realize that’s the first time you’ve come close to saying you need me?”
“Not true,” I insisted.
Zep gently pried my hand away from my face and tilted my chin up to look at him. His big body looked so out of place in my dainty wooden dining room chair as he sat down next to me. “Yes, so true. Addie. You found you, and you like her. I get that. I even respect it. But you can still be independent and part of a team. I’m on your team, you know.”
“I don’t know how to give up control. After Roland—”
“Stop!” He roared, causing me to jump. Tempering his reaction, he softened his tone. “Do not compare me to that asshole. We’re nothing alike. He’s so stupid I have no idea how he manages to find his own dick to take a piss.” Sliding the hand from my chin around to my neck, he threaded his fingers through my hair and cradled the back of my head. “He had you for ten years and gave you up. I lost you for thirteen, and it never crossed my mind even to try.”
I had no idea what possessed me. Maybe it was his words, his confidence, his utter disdain for Roland, or maybe it was all of the above. Hell, maybe it was the fact that my walls had started to crumble. Sliding off my chair, I climbed onto his lap as his arms wrapped around me.
Well, as much as they could.
The moment my entire weight settled on him, he let out a loud grunt, and I narrowed a warning glare at him. I had no qualms about bouncing my
hippo ass on him until his balls popped like overinflated balloons.
Apparently, I got my point across, because his grimace turned into a smile in the blink of an eye. “Oh, I mean, damn, Addie, it’s like you aren’t even pregnant. Are you sure that test was positive because I’m sure you’ve lost weight.”
“Laying it on a little thick there, aren’t ya, LeBlanc?”
“A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do when his best asset is unprotected.”
After a few moments of comfortable silence, I wrapped my arms around his neck and sighed. “Okay, so let’s be a team. What do teams do, slap each other’s asses and take communal showers?”
Zep tossed me a salacious grin. “No, but hold that thought for later. I meant you should split up the list. I’ll take some of the load off you and help. What do you have to do?”
Unwinding my hands from his neck, I ticked off my to-do list on my fingers. “Call Mama and Daddy and give them all the details about tomorrow, arrange the cake to be delivered to the sheriff’s office, pick up Sav’s dress and flowers, and call all the guests and have them re-routed to the jail.”
I figured the last one would cause him to throw me off his lap and run like hell. Instead, he just took a deep breath and rubbed his forehead. “Okay, you’re on your own with the first one. I’m still trying to get back in your Dad’s good graces after knocking up his daughter. You know, I kind of wanted to earn my place in your family, not shove my dick into it.”
“That’s fair. Disturbing, but fair.”
“After we pick up Savannah’s dress tomorrow, I’ll drop you off at the sheriff’s office then pick up the flowers. Will that help?”
Who was this man, and what had he done with Zep LeBlanc? Okay, maybe that was an unfair statement. Zep LeBlanc, father-to-be, had bent over backward to accommodate my ever-changing moods. He wasn’t the Zep from my past any more than I was the Addie from his.
“More than you know.” As warm fuzzies floated around inside me, I happened to glance at the time on my phone, and the warm fuzzies turned to cold, steely panic. “Damn, the bakery is closed. I’ll have to call them in the morning and change the delivery location. That only leaves one thing. I guess I should start calling the relatives.”
“How many are there?”
I fidgeted with my phone. “One hundred and ninety-nine.” All I got from him was a raised eyebrow and a blank stare. “It was two hundred, but our third cousin accidentally shot himself in the foot three days ago while gator hunting with Babs.”
Zep didn’t bat an eye. I knew because I stole a glance up at him to see if he looked petrified to be tied to our family for life. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone again. “I have a solution, but you’re not gonna like it.” Scrolling through his phone book, he hit the name of the person he was searching for and handed it to me.
I had to look twice just to be sure I wasn’t seeing things. “Bam-Bam? You’re kidding, right?”
“Suit yourself,” he said, shoving his phone back in his pocket. “Call them all alone then.”
Wrapping his massive arms around me again, he crushed me in a tight hug that stole my breath. I almost told him to ease up when his arm hit my breast, and a loud crinkle sound filled the dining room.
Oh shit.
Zep leaned back and poked at it, causing it to crinkle again. “What the hell is that?”
Shrugging, I slid back into my chair and got to work. “Oh, that’s just a bag of weed.” His mouth dropped open, but I held up a hand and cut him off. “Don’t ask.”
The next morning, I sat at my dining room table with my hair in curlers, one side of my face caked with makeup and the other bare, dressed in one of Zep’s button-up shirts because that was all that fit anymore.
Zep was right, Bam-Bam had just left a half hour ago after coming through for me. Well, sort of. Thank God he made the majority of his calls last night because he only made ten of them all morning. Once Bam started talking, the conversation evolved from the wedding to which bait was the best to use to what station had the cheapest propane to which strip bars had the least ugly strippers.
Yes, I fucking called Bam-Bam.
Once I stopped being stubborn, I realized there was no way I could get through one hundred and ninety-nine calls by myself and remain sane. Between last night’s phone marathon and today’s, there was only one person left to call, and if Zep didn’t stop reaching under my shirt, I’d never get through it.
As I attempted to carry on a phone conversation, he sat beside me pushing the fabric over my belly. “I think I’m going to burn all your clothes so you’ll have to wear mine all the time.”
“You’re a sex addict,” I whispered, tilting the phone away from my mouth.
“Excuse me, Adelaide Dubois?” I winced at the shrill tone in my ear.
Oh, fuck me. Backtrack!
“No! Not you Aunt Claudette! I was talking to someone else.”
Before she could get a word in, I repeated the information I’d told over a hundred times. She sighed, crackly voice on the other end of the line continuing the conversation. “So, in a jail cell, you say? And who are the ushers who will be frisking me?”
“Aunt Claudette, you won’t be frisked by the ushers. Who told you that?”
“This man who called me last night. I’m not quite sure of his name. Chicken, somebody?”
My blood pressure shot through the roof. “You mean Duck?”
“Yes, yes. That was it. The young man’s name was Duck. My, he was an interesting fellow,” she said with a lift in her voice.
I clenched my teeth. “What else did Duck tell you?”
I was pretty sure I blacked out for a minute after she told me what Duck said. Either that or I’d had a mini-stroke. Either way, Duck was getting castrated after the wedding.
“No, ma’am, I don’t care what Duck told you, there won’t be a keg. And Savannah did not set Pope’s ex-girlfriend’s house on fire and rob a bank. It’s just some unpaid fines, that’s all.” Taking short breaths to avoid a full-blown anxiety attack, I mouthed to Zep, “I’m gonna kill him,” and mimed a graphic Psycho-like stabbing.
Then she threw me a curveball. “Will that Zephirin fellow be there?”
“Yes, he’ll be there, why?” I watched Zep as he mulled around in the kitchen, returning with a coffee cup in his hand.
“If I’m going to be frisked, I request him.”
After hearing the rest, I ended the call and stared blankly at the phone in my hand. I’d had some bizarre shit happen in my life. I mean, I was a Dubois, after all. However, this had to be in the top five weirdest conversations of all time.
Zep eyed me curiously as he sipped his coffee. “Everything okay?”
“Wonderful. By the way, my great aunt Claudette may molest you at the wedding.”
Coughing, he spat the coffee back into his mug with a horrified look on his face. “Me? How does she even know me?”
Grunting as I pushed myself off the couch, I waddled over to him and slapped his ass. “It seems Babs filmed you during your little performance on the Bachelorette Bus, and you’ve gone viral. You have a fan club.”
He groaned. “Please tell me you’re kidding. My mother is friends with Babs on Facebook.”
“Afraid I can’t do that, Magic Mike.” Leaning in close, I whispered in his ear, “Be careful, she bites.”
Nodding as if his retaliation game plan was already in play, he set his mug down. “So the florist and sporting goods store. Got it.”
“Whoa, sporting goods?”
“If this great aunt of yours is anything like your grandmother, I’m buying a cup.”
I busted out laughing and slapped his ass again. “Go!”
Pulling me against him, he leaned down and crushed his lips against mine. The kiss started gentle but quickly heated into something more explosive. It didn’t surprise me. I’d become accustomed to Zep’s touch and craved it. However, it stirred a firestorm that always brewed for h
im. As he drowned me in a rush of tongue, lips, teeth, and roaming hands, I broke away before I did something I most definitely didn’t have time for.
Even though I really, really, really, wanted to.
Giving me one last kiss, Zep backed down the hallway and up the stairs. I smirked, taking a little pleasure in knowing I wasn’t the only one having a hard time turning down sex. The man could chop down trees with that erection.
“I’m going to shower while you call the bakery. No more stress, okay?”
“Hi, have you met me?” I laughed.
After hearing the shower water run, I sat back down at the dining room table and completed my last task, preparing myself for a well-earned pat on the back. Typing in the numbers on my phone, I made my last call.
“Abby Jo’s Bakery, how can I help you?” an overly cheery woman answered in a sing-songy voice, and I immediately wanted to slap her. Who the hell was that perky this early in the morning?
“Hi, my name is Adelaide Dubois, and I’m calling for my sister, Savannah Dubois.”
“Ah yes, the Dubois-Pope wedding. We’ll have the cake delivered to the reception on time, Miss Dubois.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m calling about. I need you to deliver it to 1847 Westwood Street instead.”
I heard nails typing in the background and then silence. Silence was never a good thing at times like this. “Ma’am, there must be some mistake. That’s the Sheriff’s Office.”
No shit, Abby Jo.
“No, there’s no mistake.”
She hesitated. “Are you sure this is a wedding cake?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” I said, my patience ready to snap. “Just deliver the damn three-tiered buttercream cake to the jail.”
“That’s not the cake we have, Miss Dubois,” she argued, her cheery tone gone. “The order was changed last night. Our bakers opened three hours early this morning to accommodate the request.”
I saw spots. White spots. Did that usually happen before you died?
“What do you mean it’s been changed?”
“It certainly was an odd request, but a Mr. Duck called and requested the icing be changed to camouflage with a fondant nail file sticking out of the top. Highly unusual request, but our job isn’t to judge.”