Reckless Surrender

by R. C. Martin

  “Trev,” I begin hesitantly. “Maybe you should wear long sleeves today.” The second the words are out of my mouth, I feel sick with guilt. “Shit. I’m sorry,” I gasp, pulling away to look into his eyes. “I didn’t mean that. Wear whatever you want. Except…” I change my mind again, recognizing that I’m not ashamed of who he is—Obviously. I married him! That said, I don’t want my parents to dismiss him before he even opens his mouth. “Maybe…maybe whatever you want to wear will be a long-sleeved shirt?” I squeak, worry tugging at my brow.

  He kisses me sweetly and the knots in my stomach seem to loosen. “How about you just pick what you want me to wear,” he suggests before kissing me again. “I don’t care.”

  “Are you sure?” I manage as he continues to brush his lips against mine.

  “Whatever I have to do to change the subject and convince you to shower with me, I’m in.” My laugh is muffled as he closes his mouth around mine. “So?” he asks, pulling away just slightly.

  “Anything for my husband.”

  “Mmm,” he hums, throwing back the covers. “I like the sound of that.”

  He distracts me for the next hour. I try to hold onto the weightless feeling I get when I’m high on all things Trevor as I dig through our closet for something to wear. When he leaves me by myself to go make us each a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, in nothing but his underwear, I realize he was serious about me dressing him.

  I pull out his gray jeans and pair it with a long-sleeve, button-up plaid shirt. Then, as I stare at it laying on the bed, I decide that I hate it. Not because he wouldn’t look good wearing it, but because it’s Saturday! There’s something about Saturday, in the last few days of summer, that just screams t-shirt.

  I defiantly toss the clean garment on the floor and go hunting for something better in our dresser. When I spot his white shirt, the one with the thin blue stripes across the chest, I decide this is the one. I lay it out just as he comes back with our sandwiches.

  “Are you sure?” he asks with a mouthful.

  “Positive,” I assure him with a nod. I watch him head for the closet as I take my first bite. A smile pulls at my lips when he tugs his navy blue jacket from off its hanger, tossing it onto the bed. “I love you,” I sigh wistfully.

  “I know,” he says with a wink.

  Choosing my own outfit isn’t half as easy. I hate everything I own this morning. Everything. I’m on the verge of crying, which is so annoying, as I begin to run out of time. I know, just because I know, that Logan will be wearing a dress. As ridiculous as it might sound that I’m worried about how my parents will compare us, I can’t help but follow that exact train of thought.

  “Baby,” says Trevor, pulling me from out of my head as he comes up behind me, resting his hand on my stomach. The feel of his clothes against my bare skin is just a reminder of the fact that he’s dressed and I’m still pathetically in my underwear. Then I feel his wedding band graze my skin and, for a moment, I don’t care. “Stop freaking out,” he tells me. “We’re in this together, remember?”

  I nod and then dive back into the closet. I don’t think twice when I pull out the simple, blue, floral dress and my mustard cardigan. It takes me two seconds to get dressed and another to find the belt that goes with it. As I buckle it, I wonder how long it’ll be before I start showing. I can’t remember how many weeks had passed the first time. Then again, every pregnancy is different. Especially this one. Especially for me…

  I’m lacing up my brown ankle boots over my maroon knee-socks when the doorbell rings.

  “Ready?” asks Trevor as he grabs his keys and my bag.

  I take a deep breath as I stand, reaching for my purse before interlocking my fingers with his. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  It takes us just over an hour to get to my parents house, but it feels like a lot longer. The whole way down, I have to convince Logan that the dress she’s wearing isn’t too revealing and her hair looks perfect and she doesn’t have on too much makeup. In short, she’s a ball of nerves. I’ve never seen her in such a state before. Ever. My confident, sexy girlfriend has transformed right before my eyes into an anxious, neurotic little girl.

  She keeps reminding me that this is all new to her, that she’s never been introduced to her boyfriend’s parents before. She’s also unafraid to admit that she’s terrified of Cornelius and Elizabeth Holloway—the people who all but disowned my sister four years ago. Somewhere, deep down, she knows they aren’t that bad. However, considering the way my sister is acting right now, I can’t blame her for being nervous.

  As for Daphne, all I have to say about that is—thank God for Trevor. There’s no way I could handle the both of them by myself.

  “This is it,” I announce as I put the Jeep in park. Logan takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly as she looks at the brick faced house and the manicured lawn. I can’t imagine, with her upbringing, that it’s anymore impressive than the next house. Then again, she’s not exactly thinking clearly right now. “Hey”, I murmur, reaching for her hand. She squeezes my fingers as she turns to look at me. “Relax. You’re Logan Schwartz, remember? You cower to no one.” When she smiles, the girl I know and love begins to resurface.

  “Guys? Before we go in, we wanted to tell you a couple things,” says Trevor, pulling our attention to the backseat.

  “We’re not going to tell them about the baby,” Daphne informs us. “I’m only four weeks along and I’m just not ready for them to know. I want to see how today goes first.”

  “Sure. We understand,” I reply, looking to Logan. She hums her agreement.

  “Also, you should know that Trevor and I got married,” she adds with a smile.

  All the air rushes out of me, as if I’ve just been knocked flat on my back.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” cries Logan. “Sorry,” she mutters, squeezing my hand. I wave off her apology, deeming it unnecessary as she’s kind of taken the words right out of my mouth. “You got married without us?”

  “We decided to elope,” Trevor explains. “Yesterday after—”

  Logan gasps so loudly she startles all of us. Before I can ask what’s going on, she practically lunges into the backseat and snatches up Daphne’s left hand. “Holy hell, Trevor!” I follow Logan’s gaze before I look at him. He smirks and shrugs as if the giant rock on my sister’s finger is no big deal. “I seriously cannot believe you just—got married!”

  When Trevor and Daphne exchange a look, I can’t help but chuckle. The sound pulls everyone’s focus towards me. “Sorry,” I laugh. “I just realized, I don’t know, I guess I’m not actually surprised. I mean—yeah, I’m surprised to learn I have a brother-in-law, but I’m not surprised that you didn’t make a big deal out of it.”

  “Well, I’m a little pissed,” Logan huffs.

  “Does it make you feel better knowing that you’re the first to hear about it?” asks Trevor.

  Logan ponders this information for a second before she replies. “Yes, it does. But you’re not off the hook. I didn’t get to throw you an engagement party or a bridal shower.” A glare darkens her brow. “Or a bachelorette party,” she grumbles as she glowers.

  Daphne laughs as she takes Logan’s hand in both of hers. “I promise you can throw as many parties as you want after today. Hey, look at the bright side. Since everything is postponed, you can throw me a bachelorette party when I’m no longer pregnant.”

  “As punishment, I think I’ll throw it while you can’t drink and everyone else can,” she says defiantly.

  Daphne rolls her eyes. “Whatever you want. As long as you forgive me. Are we good?”

  “Yes,” she concedes with a grin.

  “Now that that’s settled, I suppose congratulations are in order,” I pipe in. “For the second time this week. Now I get it. Why you don’t want to tell them about the baby.”

  “You always were so smart,” teases Daphne.

  We all laugh, which lightens the mood even more. I take advantage o
f the opportunity to get us out of the car and up the driveway while we’re all still at ease. “Well, Trevor, it’s time to meet your in-laws.”

  Logan giggles as she opens her door. “This is going to be good. I’m so glad I’m here for this. It’s the damnedest thing. Suddenly, being introduced as your girlfriend feels a lot less scary,” she says, winking at me.

  I look at Daphne when she groans and then reach back to pat her knee. “Its going to be fine. Let’s go.”

  It’s a short trip up the driveway and when we reach the front door, I don’t bother to ring the bell. For me, this place has always been home. “Mom? Dad?” I call out as we enter. “We’re here.”

  When Mr. Holloway makes his way down the stairs into the entryway of his home, I have to do a double take. He’s very handsome. Despite the fact that it’s Saturday, he’s in a pair of slacks instead of jeans. I can’t help but notice his sweater, too—pushed up to his elbows in such a way that tells me this is casual for him. I’d bet anything it’s made of cashmere.

  “Oh, my god,” I whisper out of the side of my mouth, leaning closer to Roman. “Is that what you’re going to look like in thirty years?” He hums a quiet laugh as he kisses my cheek. I tear my eyes away from his father as I grin at him. “I might have to keep you around, Double-O.”

  “Hi, everyone. Glad you could all make it,” he says, his voice smooth and deep like Roman’s. “Beth?” He calls for his wife just as she begins to make her way down the hallway in front of us.

  “I’m here, dear,” she says, folding a dishtowel over her shoulder. She’s wearing a button-up shirt and a pair of pressed khakis with one of those aprons that ties around the waist. It takes every bit of kindness in me to refrain from labeling her as some sort of Stepford wife—which is exactly what she looks like.

  “Well, son, it’s good to see you,” says Mr. Holloway, extending his hand. Roman lets go of mine as he accepts the gesture.

  “You, too, dad. Hi, mom.”

  “Hi,” she replies with a smile. She comes in for a hug, which he reciprocates fondly.

  As soon as they part from each other, Roman’s hand finds its way to my back. “Mom, dad, this is my girlfriend Logan. Logan, my parents, Cornelius and Elizabeth.”

  “We’ve heard a lot about you. Logan, such an interesting name for a girl,” Elizabeth observes.

  I bite my tongue and smile nervously. I don’t like this already. It’s bad enough that I’m walking into this whole afternoon with preconceived notions as to who these people are! If Daphne hadn’t been so desperate for a place to stay all those years ago, we wouldn’t have gotten so close. It’s her parents who drove her away. Knowing what they did, to the girl I wouldn’t trade for anyone, has me automatically feeling guarded against them.

  Yet, on the other hand, there’s Roman. He has a fairly decent relationship with these people, which is why it’s important to me that they don’t hate me. How can I be the perfect girlfriend and the perfect best friend at the same time? I feel like I’m in the middle of a tug-of-war and it’s stripping me of all my confidence. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel, right now!

  “I get that a lot,” I finally manage.

  “Well, I like it,” says Cornelius, reaching for my hand. When I reciprocate, he cups my hand between both of his and smiles at me warmly. “So, I take it you’re the one who’s been aiding and abetting Daphne over the last few years?” he jokes.

  A laugh bubbles out of me and I’m grateful for his sense of humor. “Guilty,” I reply, lifting my shoulder in a shrug.

  “Then you’ve earned the right to call me Neal,” he says, letting go of my hand. “I will say, I’m surprised you’re claiming him as your boyfriend.” He points at Roman, who rubs my back encouragingly. “Last I heard, you two weren’t very fond of each other.”

  “I’ve learned that what they say is true—there’s a fine line between love and hate,” I reply with a grin. When he laughs, I see why Daphne still sends him a Father’s Day card every year. He might not have fought for her like she hoped he would, but he’s full of that fatherly spark, nevertheless. Neal has effectively wooed me in two sentences and I’ve decided that he and I are going to be friends.

  “It’s good to put a face to a name, Logan.” He shifts his attention from me to Daphne and I can feel it as everyone in the room holds their breath. “Hello, my little girl.”

  “Hi, dad.” When he steps toward her with open arms, she does the same. The second she rests her hands against his back, Elizabeth sucks in a sharp breath. I know why before I even glance in her direction. That engagement ring is not just gorgeously stunning, it’s also impossible to miss when it’s right in front of your face. Not to mention the diamond studded wedding band that goes along with it.

  Neal looks back at his wife as he and Daphne pull away from each other. Elizabeth pays her husband no mind as she walks straight to Trevor and grabs his left hand, lifting it to find what she already suspects will be there. He doesn’t fight her; instead, he studies her with a straight face, waiting for her response.

  “Mom, dad,” says Daphne, lacing her fingers with Trevor’s free ones. “This is Trevor. My husband.”

  “Is this why you wanted to come down? So we could meet this stranger you’re calling your husband?” asks Elizabeth, letting go of Trevor’s hand. I can tell by the look on her face that she’s not just surprised or angry, she’s hurt, too. Then when I look at her daughter, I can see that the pain in Elizabeth’s eyes is no match for the storm in Daphne’s.

  “I’m sorry but you’ve got it backwards. I wanted my husband to meet the strangers I call my parents.”

  “Trevor, was it?” asks Neal, his jovial tone no longer so playful.

  “Trevor Rockwell, sir,” he answers, holding out his hand. Neal pauses before he accepts Trevor’s gesture.

  “You all better come in. It seems we have some catching up to do.”

  “Where would you like us, Beth?” asks dad.

  “Um—lunch is almost ready. We can head to the dining room.”

  “Alright. Can I take anyone’s jacket before we go?”

  “Mine, please,” says Logan as she begins to shrug off her sweater. I help her out of it, catching the silent conversation between Daphne and Trevor as I do. When I hand my dad Logan’s sweater, Daphne takes hers off, revealing the tattoo my parents have never seen. Knowing how she’s always hidden it from them in the past, I suppose this is her way of showing solidarity to her husband, who takes his jacket off, too.

  My eyes flicker to my mother. She can be very religious and to her, tattoos are a no, no. When her eyes grow wide and her jaw clinches shut at the sight of Trevor’s generous ink, I know she’s biting her tongue. I say a prayer, thanking God for her temporary silence.

  Dad clears his throat uncomfortably as he takes Trevor’s jacket and heads to the closet. “The dining room is this way,” he says when his hands are free. Logan, Daphne, and Trevor follow. I lag behind, taking hold of my mom’s arm before she can join them.

  “Mom, this is her olive branch. Take it.”

  “She hasn’t spoken to me in almost a year and then she comes home like this? Married? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” she hisses, jerking her arm out of my grasp.

  “They eloped, mother. I didn’t know until ten minutes ago. You have no idea how privileged this information is. They haven’t told anyone, yet.” This news seems to surprise her. I pause for a second, waiting for it to sink in a little bit. “Like I said. This is her olive branch. If you push her away again, I won’t be able to help you anymore.” I kiss her cheek and then follow after the others.

  It isn’t until we get into the dining room that I realize Roman isn’t behind me. To distract myself from his absence, I take in the details of the room. It’s not too big, but not to small, and I can see that it’s just off of the kitchen. It’s very well lit, the great picture window drawing in the midday sun, and surprisingly bright in character. Elizabeth has decorated the room in ta
n and turquoise. Right away, my eye catches the beautiful aged, turquoise wall clock hung in the middle of an assortment of family photos. She has already set the table, which looks very elegant, and I’d be lying if I said this room alone didn’t make me like her just a little bit more than I did a second ago.

  “Logan likes it in here,” says Daphne, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “What?” I mutter, looking in the direction of her voice. I see that she and Trevor are standing behind their chosen seats on the right side of the table while Neal is at the head, just beside Trevor.

  “You can come in, you know,” she teases. “I’m sure my mom would be happy to give you a tour, later.”

  “Oh,” I chuckle, slightly embarrassed for having been caught blatantly staring.

  “Hey, babe, what are you doing?” asks Roman as he comes up behind me.

  “She thinks mom has good taste,” Daphne answers as she sits.

  “Occupational habit,” I tell him with a shrug. He smirks at me before we come into the room.

  “I’m sorry, I seem to have forgotten what it is you do for a living, Logan,” says Neal as I take the seat beside him.

  “I’m an interior designer. Where I work now focuses on commercial interiors, but one day I hope to own my own business that specializes in home designs.”

  “That sounds wonderfully ambitious,” says Elizabeth as she enters the room with a pitcher of iced water. She sets it in the middle of the table before she takes the seat between her children. “What about you, Trevor, what do you do for a living?” I’m impressed with the change in her tone; that’s when I realize Roman must have said something to her before they joined us.

  “I’m a tattoo artist,” answers Trevor.

  “Oh. Well—that explains quite a bit.”

  And that was short lived, I think to myself as her tone regresses.

  I cast a sympathetic glance at Daphne. She smiles bravely before she reaches for Trevor’s hand underneath the table.