Heaven Can't Wait

by Pamela Clare

  “And n-now he’s watching b-beautiful women shake their h-hooters, and I didn’t even k-kiss him good-bye!” Lissy blew her nose, sniffed, grabbed another tissue from the box Kara had handed her.

  For a moment no one said anything.

  Then Holly spoke. “You saw him totally naked, Tess? Is he as hot as he seems?”

  “Holly!” Kara gave a disgusted snort and began to pack Lissy’s gifts in bags. “Your one-track mind gets a little old sometimes.”

  But Sophie and Holly were staring at Tessa, clearly waiting for an answer.

  Sophie cleared her throat. “Well, Tess, is he?”

  Tessa nodded. “Oh, my gentle Jesus! Yeah.”

  Lissy had started to cry again when she felt Kara sit down beside her.

  “You know what I think these tears are, Lissy?” Kara slipped a comforting arm around her shoulder. “Champagne, sexual frustration and pre-wedding jitters.”

  “R-really?”

  “Yeah. Now let’s get you home.”

  “I love her so much. She’s smart, and she’s funny, and, God, she’s so damn sexy. And she smells good and tastes good. I could taste her all day, everywhere. I really could.” Will took another sip of Scotch. “And I love her—more than anything. I love just being with her—holding her hand, talking, watching TV or whatever. I could listen to her voice forever.”

  The woman he was talking to gave him an indulgent smile. “It sounds like you’re really in love with her.”

  He nodded. “I love her so much sometimes it scares me. If Lissy were to leave me…”

  The woman laughed. “That’s not going to happen, honey. Take my word for it.”

  It was then Will noticed the woman wasn’t wearing…much of anything. “Did you lose your shirt somewhere? Are you cold? Here, you can have mine.”

  He started to pull his shirt over his head; then he heard Devon’s voice and felt strong arms yanking him to his feet. “Okay, man, time to go. On your feet. That’s the way.”

  “Devon, there’s a naked woman over there. I think we should help her.”

  “It’s your bachelor party, Will, and she’s a stripper.”

  The woman’s voice came from behind them, a mix of laughter and cigarettes. “A stripper who’s apparently losing her touch. Good night, boys. And thanks.”

  A stripper? His bachelor party. Loud music. An endless stream of strip bars and single malt. “I’m drunk off my ass, aren’t I?”

  “Oh, yeah. Watch your step. Nick, catch the door.”

  The floor wobbled. His stomach lurched. “Devon, I want to see Lissy.”

  “I know.”

  Lissy woke, her head pounding, her mouth full of sand. She heard someone moaning, realized it was she.

  “Here, sugar.”

  She forced her eyes open, saw Will sitting on the edge of their bed beside her in his boxers, a glass of water and what she hoped were aspirin in his hand, though arsenic would have been fine, too. She vaguely remembered getting into bed with him, both of them too drunk to do more than fall asleep. She sat up with a groan, took the tablets, popped them into her mouth, then drank.

  The water felt like salvation. She drained every drop and fell back on her pillow, in agony. “How come you’re on your feet? You were in lots worse shape than I was.”

  “Practice. Some rumors about football players are true.”

  The next time she awoke, her face was pressed into Will’s chest, his arms wrapped around her. She might have enjoyed being close to him had the throbbing in her head not been so terrible. It was pounding so hard, she could hear it.

  Pounding. Ringing. More pounding.

  Someone was at the door.

  Will groaned. “Christ!”

  Because he’d brought her water, she forced herself out of bed and into her robe, then stumbled through the darkened condo toward the brain-piercing noise coming from the front door. She glanced through the peephole, felt her stomach hit the floor.

  More impatient pounding.

  Reluctantly, she slid back the bolt and opened the door. “Really, Melisande, did you have to keep me waiting?”

  “Mother.”

  “We should set her up in a hotel.” Will ran the comb through his wet hair, his temper only slightly worse than his hangover. “It’s not like she warned us she was coming.”

  “But what if she really has accepted our marriage and just wants to get to know you?”

  He heard the hope in Lissy’s voice, and anger with Christa Charteris swirled black in his gut. He knew she hadn’t changed her mind about the marriage and suspected she’d come to make trouble. But he wouldn’t be able to explain his hostility toward her without also letting Lissy know the woman had tried to bribe him, and he didn’t want to hurt Lissy.

  “Then I guess she can stay in the guest room.” He set the comb aside, pulled Lissy into his arms and kissed her forehead. “If she hurts you or tries to interfere with the wedding, I’ll stuff her and her designer luggage into a cab bound for the airport. I mean that, Lissy.”

  “Don’t worry, Will. I can handle my mother.”

  Will worried, but then something occurred to him. If Mrs. Charteris slept in the guest room, Lissy would have no choice but to crawl back in bed with him.

  Lissy shut the door behind her, the bedroom now a refuge. She undressed, put on the old T-shirt she’d been sleeping in and hung her clothes in the closet. Then she crawled into bed and tried to relax, listening to the rumble of approaching thunder.

  A part of her wished she’d followed Will’s suggestion and banished her mother to a hotel. Her mother had been with them for four days, and Lissy’s patience was shredded. Though her mother hadn’t done anything unforgivably horrid and had even managed to be pleasant at times, she hadn’t been easy to have around.

  The first thing she’d done was to insist upon meeting with the wedding planner. When Lissy had assured her everything was in good hands and declined even to give her the phone number, she’d acted insulted—as if being the mother of the bride meant something after six months of trying to get the bride to call off the wedding. Then she’d watched with a knowing look on her face while Lissy had changed the sheets on the bed in the guest room.

  “Sleeping apart already, I see.”

  “It’s not what you think, Mother. Will and I are simply abstaining from sex until after the wedding in order to make things a bit more traditional and romantic.”

  Her mother hadn’t said a word, but the look on her face hadn’t changed.

  After work on Monday, they’d taken her to their favorite seafood place, where they’d had a good enough time. Her mother had asked Will polite questions about his job at the paper and what it was like to do live television. Though she’d complained about her salmon and the service, she’d also complimented Will’s choice of wine. But when they’d taken her for a stroll down the 16th Street Mall, she’d turned up her nose at everything from the street performers to the store displays. By the time they’d gotten home, Lissy felt ready to scream.

  On Tuesday, her mother had taken the liberty of arranging a lunch for herself and Lissy at an exclusive restaurant near the federal court building, ignoring Lissy’s desire to share her lunch break with Will as well. Then she’d proceeded to name every quality about Will she liked and every quality she didn’t like. He was well-mannered. He was intelligent. He was articulate. He was good-looking—too good-looking. He was arrogant. He had no family. He’d grown up grasping for money. He didn’t even know who his father was.

  Lissy had cut her off by standing and dropping a twenty on the table. “You’re forgetting the thing you hate most about him, Mother. I love him.”

  Then she’d walked out of the restaurant, fighting tears, leaving her mother to take a cab.

  Today, Lissy had avoided her mother by pleading a busy day at work. It wasn’t entirely untrue. This was her last day at the paper before leaving for three weeks of vacation, and she’d needed to make certain the fall fashion special was organize
d and moving forward before she walked out the door: cover design, photo shoots, articles. She and Will had enjoyed their only real time alone together since Sunday over a couple of Chicago-style hot dogs they’d bought for lunch from a vendor on the street. Being with Will for those few minutes—just sitting beside him—had been heaven.

  Will had worked late taping a special Broncos team camp wrap-up and still wasn’t home. She and her mother had spent an uncomfortable evening in front of the television. Lissy had tried to enjoy Will’s segment, while her mother had whined about every aspect of football and sports she found disgusting. When her complaining had interrupted Will, Lissy had snapped and asked her to be quiet or leave the room. Her mother had sulked off and gone to bed early, leaving Lissy with her anger and guilt.

  Through the closed curtains came a flash of blue light, followed by a peal of thunder.

  Only three days.

  The thought bolstered her. Tomorrow, she and her bridesmaids were spending the day at a downtown spa. Friday afternoon was the rehearsal, followed by the rehearsal dinner. Saturday morning she would become Will’s wife, and they would leave for two weeks in France. Then all of this—the bet, Tessa seeing Will naked, her mother—would be far behind them.

  Lissy closed her eyes and tried to sleep, listening as the bluster of wind and thunder turned at last to rain.

  Will hurried through the downpour, up the steps of the darkened condo, unlocked the door and let himself in. He’d spent more time at the station than he’d intended and wasn’t surprised to find Lissy and her mother already in bed. At least he wouldn’t have to face his soon-to-be mother-in-law.

  The woman spread poison every time she opened her mouth. She hated him—that much was clear. She rarely made eye contact with him, and when she did, her eyes were full of rage and bitterness. He knew she’d been young when she’d married Lissy’s father, and that she’d desired the bank account more than the man. He knew, too, that her husband had been unfaithful almost from the start and that she had answered in kind, avenging infidelity with infidelity until she was worn and hollow. He’d have felt sorry for her if her venom hadn’t been so harmful to Lissy and aimed at their marriage.

  He set his briefcase aside and slipped out of his shoes, and then checked the mail before heading off to the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready for bed. He found Lissy lying in the dark, still awake. He slipped into bed beside her, made room for her to snuggle up against his chest, pulled her close.

  “What are you still doing awake, sugar?” He thought he knew.

  For a moment she was quiet. “My mom and I got into a bit of a tiff.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” He could feel the tension in her body.

  “No. I want you to kiss me.”

  He traced the fullness of her lower lip with his thumb. “Well, okay, but when you kiss and make up, aren’t you supposed to kiss the person you argued with?”

  She gaped at him for a moment, then burst into giggles, burying her face in his chest to mute the sound. “Oh, Will, you always make me laugh!”

  “No, sugar. Sometimes I make you scream.” He ducked down, took her mouth with his.

  He kept the kiss light, more about lips than tongues, comfort than lust. The bet was still in full force, and though going twelve days without sex had left him as randy as a frat boy, her mother’s presence had left no doubt in Will’s mind that there was more at stake for Lissy in this little wager of theirs than which one of them caved first. She was trying to prove something to herself about him, about their relationship. He didn’t want to let her down.

  But the connection between them had always been a live wire, and without meaning to, he found himself kissing her hard, cupping the fullness of her breast in his hand, teasing her hardened nipple with his thumb.

  He pulled back from her, brushed the hair from her face and chuckled when she whimpered her frustration. “I’m starting to remember what it’s like to be a teenager and stuck at second base—tits but no tail.”

  She laughed, smoothed her hands over his chest, her thumb catching one of his nipples. Then her face grew serious. “I don’t know why you’re putting up with her, Will.”

  So they were to back to her mother again.

  He pressed his lips to her cheek. “I put up with her because I’m madly in love with her daughter.”

  Her body relaxed in his arms. “Her daughter’s madly in love with you, too.”

  Soon, she was asleep.

  “Surely you have some kind of mineral water that doesn’t come in cheap, plastic bottles. And I’d like lemon—fresh, sliced lemon.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but that’s the only brand of bottled water we carry.”

  “That is simply unacceptable.”

  Lissy tried to ignore her mother’s complaining, willing the tension to leave her shoulders as the aesthetician wrapped her hair in a towel and prepared to give her a facial. Beside her Holly, Tessa, Sophie and Kara lay on treatment tables, dressed in thick, white terry robes, their hair also wrapped in towels. Soft music drifted over the sound system like clouds, but it was no mask for the barbed wire of her mother’s voice.

  This was spa day. It was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be relaxing. But her mother was ruining it for all of them with her constant criticism, her mood a chilling frost. Nothing was good enough: not the music, not the size of the dressing rooms, not the décor. Now the bottled water was below her standards, as well.

  Lissy had felt obligated to bring her mother along and had been naïve enough to think this sort of pampering would make her mother happy. But it seemed nothing made her mother happy.

  “When I pay for a full day at the spa, I expect to be treated like a princess!”

  “You’re not paying for it, Mother.” Lissy tried to sound calm, as if her mother’s whining weren’t plucking on her last nerve. “I’m paying for it, and I like this bottled water just fine.”

  “Then you’re wasting your money, Melisande.”

  An uncomfortable stillness fell over the room.

  Tessa spoke in her most sophisticated Savannah drawl. “You know, the last time I visited this establishment, I found the Venetian mud bath to be most enjoyable.”

  “I heard they have the mud flown in straight from Venetia,” chirped Holly.

  “You mean Venice,” Sophie corrected.

  “Oh. Yeah.”

  “I quite enjoyed the Venetian mud bath, as well,” Kara said, the tone of her voice strangely snobbish. “It was a gift from my husband, the senator, after Caitlyn was born.”

  “Your husband is a senator?”

  “Why, yes, Mrs. Charteris. Didn’t Lissy tell you? He’ll likely be our next governor.”

  The spa offered mud baths, but not Venetian mud baths. And Kara’s husband, Reece, had sworn he’d never run for governor. Lissy had no idea what they were talking about. Had they all gone wacko?

  And then it hit her. She decided to play along.

  “It’s too bad the Venetian mud baths are available only to Platinum Spa Members. I only have a Gold membership.”

  “Oh, really, Lissy? What a shame!”

  Lissy nearly laughed out loud at the feigned dismay in Tessa’s voice.

  As if on cue, her mother spoke. “Well, given the sloppiness of their service so far, I feel entitled to an upgrade in my services.”

  “Would you like a Venetian mud bath, ma’am? I believe I can arrange it with management.”

  Lissy opened her eyes to find the staff person her mother had yelled at standing by the door, a wide, beaming smile on her face.

  Her mother nodded, the white towel on her head bobbing slightly. “Yes, I would.”

  “If you would await me in the lounge, ma’am, I’ll prepare the facilities.”

  “I think the rest of you should insist on the same.” Her mother stepped down off her treatment table and into her courtesy flip-flops, then walked out the door.

  The smiling staff member looked apologetically towar
d Lissy. “I’m sorry she’s unhappy with our services.”

  But it was Lissy who felt sorry. “I don’t think she’s happy with much of anything.”

  Then Tessa spoke, her eyes closed, her face covered in white goop. “There’s a hundred-dollar bill in it for you if you keep her occupied for the rest of the day. Right, girls?”

  Lissy, unable to help herself, burst into laughter.

  Will turned onto their street and jerked the truck to a stop. “Give me a break!”

  The Cone Zone had expanded while he’d been at work, reducing their street to a single, cramped lane. What in the hell was the city trying to do? If they weren’t done by the time he and Lissy got back from France, getting a moving van through was going to be a bitch.

  He steered carefully into the parking lot, grabbed his briefcase and picked his way through orange cones toward the front steps. He’d ended up working late again, trying to tie up loose ends so that both the paper and Channel Four would be set while he was in France with Lissy. The sports department had given him a send-off that had included putting up streamers made of hundreds of linked condom packages around his desk. Bunch of lunkheads.

  He slipped his key in the lock, heard shouting coming from inside. Quietly, he opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

  “You don’t know him! He’s nothing like my father!” Lissy’s voice was trembling.

  Protective rage flared in Will’s gut, hot and immediate. He put down his briefcase, headed straight for the kitchen.

  “They’re all like your father, Melisande! You might as well plan for it now, because sooner or later he will cheat on you!”

  “I’m sorry you think so, Mrs. Charteris.” Will fought to control his temper.

  Both women gasped, and he saw the blood drain from the older woman’s face. Tears stained Lissy’s cheeks, her grief fueling his fury.

  He walked slowly toward her mother. “I’m sorry you married the wrong man for the wrong reasons. I’m sorry he hurt you by sleeping around. I’m sorry you cheapened yourself by doing the same. I’m sorry for whatever it was that made you such a heartless, miserable human being. But I’m done tolerating your poison in our home. Pack your things, and get out!”