Wedded to a Wayne: A Finn World Holiday Romance

by R. G. Alexander

  I should have seen the slap coming after I lost my temper. Instead, I stumble back in surprise, hand on my cheek. Thankfully, my first girl fight is over before it begins. I’ve got heart, but she’s a giant, and I’m not sure I could take her.

  “Way to be trashy, Ro. This is my family’s front yard, not an episode of Springer. You need to go.” Bronte Finn wraps an arm around my shoulder, the pregnant Austen closing in on my other side.

  “I decided to bring everyone,” she murmurs to me. To Rowena she says, “Hugo’s husband is on duty, but we can call him over. You remember what he does for a living, don’t you?”

  Emerson’s ex-wife looks over our heads and I follow her gaze. Cassandra is standing like a sentinel in the doorway.

  Rowena starts crying on cue. “I deserve to see my kids, Mama.”

  “Do not.” My mother-in-law’s words are like a slap of their own. “We all heard you. My grandchildren heard you. I’m only holding my son back because you’re not worth his time. You’re not welcome here tonight, Rowena. Go home.”

  They heard? I see the crowd in the doorway behind her. And the window in the kitchen, opened a crack to let the air in after dinner.

  My poor boys. I have to fix it.

  I turn back to Rowena with a renewed sense of urgency. “They know people say things they don’t mean when they fight. Let me get them so you can apologize. You’re their mother. Their family. Don’t let them go to bed thinking you meant what you said.”

  She looks down at me in genuine surprise but starts to back away instead. “Cassandra is right. I have to go.” She turns, her long legs make short work of the driveway. A moment later I hear her car speeding away, sounding like an angry roar in the night.

  “Good riddance,” Austen mutters.

  “We need to stop doing that,” Bronte says pensively.

  Austen leans around me to look at her. “Stop doing what? Defending our new kickass sister-in-law?”

  I’m kickass?

  “Using Younger like a get-out-of-jail-free card. Everybody pulls that poor man into everything. He’s not our personal bodyguard, he’s the chief of police.”

  “I know that. But he does love us, and you have to admit it works. It got rid of her.”

  “Mama got rid of her.”

  They both look down at me as if I’m the deciding vote.

  “Your mother,” I say sincerely. “It was definitely your mother who scared her away.”

  Bronte winks and squeezes my shoulder. “You helped. I think you actually shamed her, and I didn’t know that was possible. Now let’s get you inside. You’re freezing and we should see how much damage she did. It sounded like it hurt.”

  I touch my cheek gingerly. “It did feel like a Springer episode, didn’t it? I’ve never been slapped before.”

  “Royal is going to tell JD,” Austen murmurs in my ear. “JD will tell his husband, who’ll tell his boss. Then Tanaka will make her disappear and make it look like some coked-up skiing accident.”

  “Austen.” But Bronte’s chuckling.

  “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  “Oh no. He wouldn’t…” I remember the secret Joey mentioned about his apartment building, the things I’ve heard from his brother-in-law, Carter. “He wouldn’t.”

  I’m still calling JD tomorrow, just in case.

  When I get inside, I see that Robert is rocking Barry in his arms with a grim expression. Hugo and Bronte’s husband, William, have Emerson cornered, talking to him in rapid but hushed conversation. He looks so upset.

  But he won’t meet my gaze.

  Arms wrap around my waist tight enough to make me gasp and I look down to see Langston’s head buried in my stomach.

  “I hate her,” he cries. “I hate her.”

  “Oh no, sweetheart.” I pull him close, bowing to kiss the top of his head. “No, you don’t hate her. It’s not in you. That’s why it hurts.”

  Bronte looks at my cheek and winces, but I shake my head subtly and tip my head toward the living room. “I need to sit down and warm up, Lang. Will you come with me?”

  He clings to me as we walk into a living room decorated in books. On the mantel, holding down the stockings that are already up and ready to be filled. More books are on the side tables. Every shelf and every corner is stuffed with reading material. I loved it as soon I saw it. It’s warm and inviting, like everything else in this family.

  I take us over to the couch and, without lifting his head, Lang reaches for the throw along the back and pulls it over both of us.

  “She slapped you.”

  “I might have said a few things I shouldn’t have. I wasn’t very nice.”

  He leans harder. “That’s no excuse.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  He lifts his head and digs at his tears with an impatient knuckle. “She never liked us. She didn’t want us when she had us, she just wanted to upset Dad. I want to hate her.”

  “I feel sad for her.”

  He looks up at me like I’m crazy. “Why?”

  I wipe away one of the tears he missed. “She doesn’t know what she’s missing. She thinks she does, but she doesn’t. It’s going to hit her eventually. I only hope it’s not too late when it does.”

  “What’s she missing?”

  “You and your brother. She’s missing his hugs. The way your brain works on a problem. Your laughter.”

  He’s shaking his head. “You’re wrong. She doesn’t miss us.”

  “Sometimes people get confused. They look back instead of forward, they obsess on things they shouldn’t, and they’re blind to what’s already right here.”

  “Those people are stupid.”

  I stroke his back and close my eyes, hoping he feels the love I’m sending him. “I was stupid for a while. For a long time after I lost my leg, I’d feel it at night, as if it were still there. It hurt so much, but I hoped every time that when I pulled back the covers, I’d see it. If it was still there, then my mother would stop crying and thinking my life was over. If it was still there, my father would look at me again the way he used to. I wouldn’t be a burden. I’d be normal. All I could think about, all I could see, was what I didn’t have anymore.”

  “But then it stopped hurting?”

  “It took time, and my best friend Joey. We’d only known each other for a few months, but I told him about the feeling, and for some reason, he decided to help me. He did some research on phantom pain, which was what we found out it was called. One day, he came to my house with a mirror. He sat me on the floor and leaned the mirror against my injured leg so I could only see my good leg in the reflection. It looked like I had two whole legs again. He made me wiggle my toes and arch my foot as I stared at the mirror. After a minute, I could feel it. My brain told me I was wiggling two sets of toes. Moving two legs.”

  “Really?”

  “The human brain is amazing.” I sigh. “It was the strangest thing, but seeing that reflection was what made me realize my leg wasn’t coming back. And after I finally accepted that, I started feeling better. I looked around and I could see what a good friend I had in Joey. I could enjoy school again. And now, I get to be here with you and I can appreciate the wonderful guy that you are, all because I’m not obsessing about what I don’t have. Does that make sense?”

  Langston rubs his chest. “I think I have a phantom pain.”

  “You aren’t missing a thing.” I kiss his forehead tenderly. “But I promise you now that if you ever need me to be your mirror, I’ll be here.”

  He’s hugging me again when I hear a noise and turn toward the entry to see Cassandra standing beside Emerson. She’s got tears in her eyes. And something more. Something that doesn’t feel like pity at all. When I smile reassuringly, she nods and then gives Emerson a speaking look before disappearing into the kitchen with the others.

  He’s looking at me now. He walks in hesitantly, his hands clenching at his sides before he sits down beside us and takes us both in his arms.

  H
e’s so warm, and I lean into him gratefully.

  “Where is she?” Royal breaks through our bubble and comes to kneel in front of us. He winces when he sees my face.

  “Is it that bad?” I ask.

  “It’s not,” Lang says quickly.

  “Joey’s going to kill me,” Royal groans as Austen and the others start wandering in, as if they’ve been given permission. “I should have been looking after her.”

  “Back off, Hale. I’m the only one who needs to be looking after my wife.”

  Royal, whom I’ve known most of my life and who’s one of the most easygoing, mischievously irritating people you’d ever want to meet, just stares at him in shocked surprise.

  “Did pocket protector Emerson just piss a circle around his new bride or am I in a food coma?” Robert asks.

  When everyone looks at him, he holds up his hands. “No. Come on. I’m just making an observation. Don’t vote me off the island. Not again.”

  Bronte’s husband, William, is laughing in the corner, and the sight has my lips twitching as well. “Is Emerson not usually like this?”

  My husband stiffens beside me, but everyone else laughs.

  Robert holds his heart and sighs in relief. “Thank you, Tanisha. You distracted them and may have saved me from another exile.”

  “We could still vote, Nora,” Emerson mutters to Robert, making everyone chuckle again.

  Why is he calling him Nora? “Am I missing a joke?”

  Royal snaps his fingers, as if figuring something out. “Is this about Spin the Bottle? We were thirteen, Emerson. I’m sure she’s over me by now.”

  The family all starts talking at once and I can’t stop laughing, even though it hurts my cheek. I’m snuggled up between Lang and Emerson—and Barry, who managed to join in the pile after handing me an ice pack his grandmother gave him for me. I watch the loud, loving family defend my honor by giving Royal hell, and I’m more than thankful.

  I’m already looking forward to my first in-law Christmas. Anything could happen.

  Chapter Eight

  Emerson

  The hardest thing about being a father is keeping track of your children in the mall. Dad never gave me a heads-up on that, no doubt because he was smart enough to avoid it by hiding out in his office or behind the pages of a book anytime we needed to go somewhere in a group. The man has exceptional survival instincts.

  But since Barry just had a growth spurt and Langston needed a shirt and yet another new pair of shoes, I decided to get some holiday shopping done.

  Because I haven’t punished myself enough in the last few days.

  Turning on the street to our neighborhood does nothing to relieve the pressure in my head. Tanisha should be home soon, and I need to swallow my damn pride and talk things out with her.

  After what happened at Thanksgiving dinner, I was angry. Humiliated by Rowena’s behavior. I’ve never wanted to hit a woman in my life, but when I saw the mark on Tanisha’s face and heard Barry crying? I came close.

  I didn’t get the chance to defend my wife. And I didn’t have the first idea how to comfort Lang after what he’d heard. But Tanisha didn’t need my help for any of it. She defended me, humbled me and humored me in turn. I still don’t think I deserve her forgiveness.

  She’s so much more than I expected. Having my father and brothers pull me aside to sing her praises only hammered that point into the ground.

  “You need to do a better job at earning her, because we will pick her over you if it comes down to a vote.”

  I was still rattled when we got home. I told her I would stay with the boys for a while and then…I went and slept in the guest room without her.

  The next morning it was obvious she was uncertain about where we stood or if I was angry at her instead of the situation. But every time she tried to bring it up, I shut her down. There was too much going on in my head. I wasn’t ready.

  The things Rowena said brought up all the old guilt. She wasn’t wrong. I think she loved me at first, but I was never able to return the favor. I tried to respect her. I was faithful. I provided a roof and welcomed her into my family, but I never gave her what she wanted.

  It wasn’t fair to her.

  Just like it wasn’t fair of me to let Tanisha think I only married her because of our agreement. But I let her leave that morning without talking it out.

  While she was at the office, I got a call from my lawyer. He said my ex had decided not to go through with our court proceedings. That Rowena was willing to sign the new agreement giving me sole custody, and that this time she wouldn’t change her mind. He’d already sent my current wife and me a copy of her email in case we didn’t believe him.

  A short time later, Tanisha texted me that she was spending the night at her friends’ apartment to catch up after their trip, but that there were leftovers for the boys in the fridge.

  I didn’t feel like celebrating without her. Either what she said to Ro struck a chord, or the lawyers told her how unlikely it would be to win now that I have Tanisha on my side. Either way, my wife had done what she promised.

  We hadn’t been together much more than a month and she’d already come through on her word. I wouldn’t lose my children for Christmas, and I hadn’t had to go through the Finn family of fixers to make it happen. I, meanwhile, was fucking things up royally, all on my own.

  Last night the house felt so empty without her I couldn’t sleep. I even turned on one of those reality shows as a distraction, though the first one I clicked on didn’t do a damn thing for me. Watching some idiot trying to decide which woman he wants to give a rose to. Did he know anything about them other than their astrological sign and their measurements? Did he know if they’d be there through good times and bad? If they cared about anything other than themselves? What the hell kind of show was this? It should be called The Brothel.

  I glance down at the red rose on the console between the car seats and my expression turns rueful. That’s another reason I went to the mall tonight. I wanted to find some way to show Tanisha that I’m sorry I let my pride get in the way again. That I should have held her every night and thanked her for the way she fought for the boys. For me.

  When I stood in line for Barry to see Santa, I shared way too many details about my personal life with a helpful elf, and she told me a rose would be the only present my wife wouldn’t be able to resist. Either she was trying to shut me up, she was a fan of that stupid show, or it was a sign. But I took her at her word and hunted down a rose like a desperate idiot before we left the mall.

  You are a desperate idiot.

  Santa himself was an interesting experience for all of us. Barry immediately told the man he wanted a little sister. When the old whitebeard hemmed and hawed, my son got persistent. And loud.

  “I don’t know who you are, but last year Langston talked to a different Santa, even though he pretended he was too old to want to. He asked for Tani and he got what he wanted. All I’m asking for is a tiny baby. It could be a boy, if that’s all you’ve got. Are you telling me you can’t do it?”

  After I apologized and carried a grumbling Barry over to the commissary to get a soothing pretzel, Lang pulled me aside, looking worried.

  “She’s not going to leave us now, is she?” Lang asked quietly.

  Not if I have anything to say about it. “Why would you think that? And why is Barry saying you asked Santa for your stepmother?”

  “Because I did, okay? Someone had to do it, and you didn’t look like you were in that big of a hurry. And I think she could leave because Mom slapped her and then you weren’t talking and then she went to spend the night with Uncle Joey.”

  He’s too observant for my own good. “Are we already calling him Uncle Joey? You barely know him. It took you longer to warm up to Uncle Younger, and he actually married into the family.”

  “Uncle Joey is with Uncle Flash, who’s going to teach me how to pitch for the majors. Also Tani loves him.”

  “I see. I respe
ct your ambition but that sounds a little self-serving, son.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Dad.”

  Lang hits the back of my seat as I turn in the driveway, bringing me back to the present with a jolt. “Dad. I said there’s a weird guy on our porch.”

  Yes, there is. A big, hulking guy, peering into the living room window.

  I hit the brakes and put the car in park. “You stay here with your brother until I find out who it is. Lock the doors.”

  I watch the guy jiggling the window before swearing and moving to pound on the door. When he hears the snow crunching beneath my shoes, he finally turns around.

  “Can I help you?” I ask as calmly as I’m able. “Because it looks like you’re trying to break into that house.”

  “Do you know who lives here? Where they are?”

  His eyes remind me enough of Tani’s that I’m guessing this is one of her brothers. That’s all they have in common as far as I can see. Where’s she’s small and delicate, he’s thicker and closer to five-eleven. And he’s not looking good. Sweating, despite the weather. A little green around the gills.

  “Emerson Wayne lives here, and he’s standing right in front of you.”

  His grimace tells me this has to be Arush Chahal, the brother who tried to marry my wife to someone else.

  “Are your parents with you?” I ask through clenched teeth, restraining my anger. “I thought they were flying out next week.”

  He straightens the jacket that looks like it was made more for style than warmth and glares down at me from the porch. “I told them not to come. There’s no reason to waste the tickets. I’m here to bring my sister home.”

  “Is that what she wants?” It slips out. Did she call her family? Have I screwed up that much?

  “It doesn’t matter what she wants. She’ll do what I say.”

  I admit, my laugh is a little on the derisive side. “You should know better than anyone that she won’t. Tanisha makes her own decisions. And she decided that she didn’t want to marry someone she didn’t know just to get you out of debt.”