by Sosie Frost
I wasn’t sure I liked how her eye twitched. It was time to get her the hell out of here.
“I’m taking you out,” I said. “Let’s go.”
“Are you listening? I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. Let your sister and parents sort out her wedding. You don’t need to be so involved.”
“Yes, I do. I have to keep everyone happy.”
“Says who?”
Mandy didn’t have an answer. “It’s…someone should play peace-keeper.”
“So send in the UN. You don’t have to be in the middle of this.”
She distracted herself by smacking the coffeepot, teasing the last few drops out. “I’m always in the middle, Nate.”
“By choice.”
“And what would you know about it?” She moved too quick and coffee grounds flew everywhere. “Not all of us can leave home, open a brewery, and fall out of the family tree.”
I offered her the towel and grinned when she grabbed it. I tugged it and her close. “You should take a lesson from me. I’m getting out of Thanksgiving this year. If I have it my way, I’ll only visit for Easter and Christmas.”
“Are you trying to make me jealous?”
Mandy pulled away and poured two mugs of coffee. She loaded the tray with creamer and sugar, but swore. She turned to brew a pot of tea as well. I shifted out of her way as she headed into the living room.
Mandy was a gallon of crazy in a pint-sized container, but that was nothing compared to the psych ward convening in the living room.
Lindsey cradled a box of tissues and forced Bryce to fan her forehead. She rested on the couch, feet up and head nestled against a bag of frozen peas. Sandra sniffled and held my mom’s hand, crying into a handkerchief. Conrad frantically apologized to his wife, his daughter, and baby Jesus.
The radio blared gospel music, the TV blasted pre-recorded wedding-themed reality shows, and Bryce’s iPad had been commandeered to slideshow different floral arrangements, decorations, and color schemes.
If we caged a lion and featured a trio of trapeze artists with spandex creeping up their asses, the Prescotts could have charged admission for this circus and paid for the honeymoon.
In the corner, Bryce’s parents huddled on a loveseat. Darla clutched her coat, prepared to bolt. Pretty sure Marcus was listening to a college football game through the earbud he tried to conceal.
Mandy set the tray on the table and offered my parents their coffee. She knelt at her mom’s side, handing her the tea.
“Made your favorite,” she said. “Can I get you another tissue?”
Sandra glanced at her mug and the cups of coffee in my parents’ hands. She made a face. “You’re supposed to serve what the guests are drinking.”
“But—”
“Mandy, I have no idea where you learned your manners.” Sandra glared at Conrad. “But I have a good idea.”
“Okay, enough,” Conrad said. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not saying I don’t want centerpieces—”
“Yes, you are, Daddy!” Lindsey kicked. The iPad flew from Bryce’s lap. He dove to catch it, nearly crashing head first into the television. “You didn’t like any of the vases I picked out!”
“They were crystal.”
The music blared. “Our God…is an awesome God, he reigns…”
“You hated the flowers!” Lindsey yelled.
Conrad tried to calm her down. “They weren’t in season.”
“And you hated the whole arrangement!”
Mandy tried her hardest to mute the television. Instead she replayed the last show. “…And on this episode of Wedding Hunters, we sent Brett and Donna to a tropical paradise, but when the groom catches malaria, Donna might have to cancel her pre-wedding manicure—”
“Those centerpieces were five hundred dollars a pop!” Conrad waved at his ex-wife. “Sandra, we agreed on twenty tables of eight. That’d be ten grand alone on centerpieces.”
Lindsey bolted upright. Bryce avoided her swinging arm, but he howled as her three inch heel cracked down against his toe.
“Twenty tables?” She pitched the frozen peas into the wall. The bag exploded.
The song continued. “—With wisdom and love…”
Lindsey growled. “Are you kidding me? Mom!”
“Conrad, I told you.” Sandra took her daughter’s hand. “It’s thirty tables of eight.”
“Thirty?”
“Yes.”
The TV crackled. “But when Brett refuses to get married in the ICU, Donna realizes she won’t compromise on love and finds a new groom for her tropical honeymoon—”
“That’s eighty more people!” Conrad shouted.
Lindsey and Sandra looked at Mandy. She froze, clutching the tea in trembling hands.
“You didn’t tell him?” Lindsey said.
“Tell me what?” He grunted. “That this wedding is out of control?”
“—He reigns from Heaven above—” The song crescendoed.
Mandy bit her lip. “I didn’t know I was supposed to tell him the guest list shifted. I redid it and gave it to Mom.”
“You are the liaison here,” Sandra snapped. “I expected that you would inform your father of all the changes to the bridal party and our plans.”
“But Lindsey said—”
“Don’t make excuses. Your sister is upset enough.” Sandra pointed a finger at Conrad. “It’s thirty tables of eight. And you will give your daughter the centerpieces she wants.”
Conrad laughed. “I am not spending five hundred dollars for a centerpiece.”
“—But Brett isn’t willing to give up on his bride-to-be. Even with a one hundred and four degree fever and hallucinations, he crawls to the altar—”
“Oh, you certainly will,” Sandra said.
“They’re flowers. Put something in a jar and drop a couple candles.”
Lindsey shrieked. “Mom, do you hear him? My wedding will smell like Citronella!”
“Like the devil it will!”
“—Our God is an awesome God—”
Jesus. I turned off the television. The gospel music synced from someone’s phone, and I was pretty sure the song stayed on repeat. Mandy didn’t notice, and her bottom lip started to quiver.
My dad stepped forward, tapping a hand against his bible. “Let’s sit and discuss this. Flowers and decorations are special to the bride, but do you know what’s more special?” He smiled. “A loving family, working hard to make her day as joyous as the joy she brought to their lives.”
I didn’t have to laugh. Mandy scoffed first.
Then the fireworks started.
“Hear that, Conrad? You do want your little girl to feel joyous, don’t you?”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Don’t you dare take the Lord’s name in vain!” Sandra scolded him. “We have a man of God in the house!”
“Good. Maybe he’ll turn some water into wine so we can save money on this ridiculous wedding!”
Bryce’s mom raised a hand. “Actually…the wine is paid for by the groom’s family…”
Sandra grunted at her husband. “Oh, this is so like you, Conrad.”
“—With wisdom, power, and love—”
Was the song getting louder, or was the house starting to implode? And why the hell didn’t anyone pop some popcorn for this shit show?
Mandy bit her lip. “Dad, don’t. Drop it.”
“I’m like what?” Conrad extended his arms. “I’m the only one in this family who ever cared about money.”
“Don’t argue money in front of the guests,” Sandra scolded.
Mandy covered her face. “Mom, please.”
“Did you plan to spring all these extra costs onto my side of the bill now, so I couldn’t argue them with guests in the house?”
“Why are you even arguing?” She pointed at a sobbing, particularly snotty Lindsey. “This is the most precious day of your daughter’s life. Why would you deny her happiness?”
“Becaus
e the seven thousand dollar wedding gown should still be making her pretty damn happy.”
Mandy covered her face. “Nine grand.”
“Nine?”
Lindsey bared her teeth and launched from the couch. Bryce caught her before she lunged for Mandy’s hair. “You little traitor—”
Mandy threw the remote and bolted away.
“Another two thousand dollars?” Conrad grunted. “We can’t afford all this. It’s only a party.”
Lindsey, Sandra, and my mother all gasped. Conrad apologized immediately, but the damage was done.
Marcus chuckled, despite Bryce’s shushing. “Nice knowing ya, Conrad.”
Sandra’s voice rumbled low. “I should have prepared for your selfishness. Everything is money money money to you. Payday was more exciting than our honeymoon!”
Mandy stood, forcing a smile as my parents slurped their scalding coffee. Second degree esophageal burns were preferable to the awkwardness of excusing themselves from the room.
Conrad blew his fuse, and probably an artery in his neck. His eyes bulged, and he pointed a thick finger at Sandra. “Of course I looked forward to pay day. About as much as you’ll look forward to your alimony check!”
“Don’t you throw that in my face,” she said.
“Get a job!”
“Support your family!”
“Stop bleeding it dry and maybe we’ll have a chance to save some money!”
“Stop denying your child the wedding she deserves so you can pinch more pennies. For God’s sake, Conrad, it’s not like Mandy’s going to find a man.”
Mandy threw the tray against the wall. The room silenced.
“Stop it!” Tears rolled over her cheeks. “Can’t we talk like normal people for once? You used to love each other! Just be civil for one hour!”
Sandra huffed, her mouth falling open. “Mandy, don’t make a scene. You’re embarrassing yourself!”
Silence.
Almost. Bryce tried to play it cool and turned on the TV.
“Next week on Wedding Hunters, Denny wants to propose, but he can’t afford a ring! It’s off to the plasma bank for a donation in the name of love—”
Mandy stormed out of the living room. I followed. I didn’t have to hurry. She trembled in rage and couldn’t unlock the back door. I helped her, but she didn’t speak, just rushed outside.
It tore me apart to see her that upset. Mandy’s smile was too pretty to lose to tears, especially when it was bullshit family drama sapping her energy and…
Getting her sick in the bushes outside?
Damn. She took her family seriously. There was her first problem.
“You okay?” I asked.
Mandy flinched. She froze, staring at me.
“I’m sorry. I’m…worked up.”
“It’s okay.”
She heaved a breath. “I can’t go back in there.”
“Come on.” I guided her away from the bushes. “I’ll take you out. Get you something to eat.”
“I’d rather crawl under a rock.”
“How about under the sheets?”
I regretted it as soon as I said it, but she actually giggled.
“You know…” Mandy bit her lip. “Yeah. That sounds good.”
It was the first time a beautiful woman’s proposition ever took me by surprise.
And it was the first time I ever considered refusing one.
If she was this hot and cold when she wasn’t dealing with the DMZ imploding in her living room, Mandy wasn’t ready to get fucked. She needed someone to talk to.
For whatever reason, I liked that I was the man who’d listen.
Five
Mandy
“Good families do exist, right?” I posed the question to the universe. The universe didn’t answer, but it did make me nauseous. Maybe it was a sign.
“I’m sure they do,” Nate said. “Somewhere.”
“It’s just not fair. I barely survived my mother’s endless judgment during my childhood. Now I have to be voluntarily humiliated as an adult?”
“Can’t pick your family.” Nate leaned over his bar and passed me a basket of French fries fresh from the fryer. “But you can run far, far away from them.”
“If only.”
“Lindsey can’t chase you wearing heels.”
I snorted. “Yeah, except I’m the one breaking them in for her.”
“Tell me you aren’t serious.”
“I’ll show you the blisters.”
I dipped my French fry in the ranch dressing. Nate passed me a beer. I wished. I asked for water instead. He poured it into a frosted glass, and I dove into my fries.
Nate had a bad reputation. He was a womanizer, a commitment-phobic, a man who’d chase me to the ends of the earth just to steal my panties—but he whipped up the best ranch dressing I’d ever tasted.
I didn’t know how he did it, but my stomach soothed around him. I’d blame the pregnancy hormones. Just sitting with the father of my secret baby was relaxing enough that I could eat more than a single saltine and half a tangerine.
But the one person who made me feel halfway normal was the one person I couldn’t have feelings for.
Except Nate had whisked me away from home, delivered me to his bar, and served me a plate of salty and crispy French fries the instant I sat down.
For someone who claimed to screw ‘em and leave ‘em, Nate knew how to please a lady—besides the obvious oral sex, passionate fucking, and complete fulfillment of their physical needs.
I bit my lip. Not the thought I should have had in a crowded bar.
Arrogance attracted a lot of people. Nate knew half of the patrons by name, and the rest were casuals or newcomers who seemed to enjoy his brews and the classy atmosphere. Three men greeted him with handshakes and grins.
A couple of blondes tried to swoop in.
Nate stared only at me and stole a fry. I shouldn’t have smiled.
He sipped his drink and gestured to the multitude of beers on tap. “Sure I can’t get you anything? You need something stronger.”
I deflected like a pro. “I just had to get out of the house. The wedding turned into a zoo overnight, and I’m not allowed to tranq the bride.”
“Would make for a more entertaining reception.”
“More entertaining than what? The choreographed dancing? The ten ton cake? The musicians I’m supposed to audition next week?”
“Maybe?”
“We have a DJ and a string quartet, a five course dinner and dancing, two hundred and fifty people in attendance.” I nibbled my fry. “And let’s not forget the best part. Sandra and Conrad Prescott entertaining the guests by performing their latest hit act—Marital Grievances of the Past Thirty Years.”
Nate laughed. The deep rumble warmed me despite my best efforts to wallow in misery.
“I hate being caught in the middle,” I said. “The bull’s eye on my forehead won’t match my bridesmaid’s dress.”
“So shrug it off.”
“I can’t. This is too important. My family is falling apart. I’m trying to do anything I can to stop it.”
He frowned. “Sometimes there’s nothing you can do.”
“Don’t say that. I don’t want to give up.”
“But it isn’t your responsibility to mediate. That’s a horrible position to be in.”
My eyes prickled with tears. I’d much rather lose my lunch than my cool.
Crying wouldn’t solve anything, but the damn hormones made me seem even crazier than I was before. Nothing I did or said would ease the fear creeping around my heart.
“My parents were married for thirty years,” I said. “Thirty. They lived together. They raised a family. Mom stood by Dad while he built his advertising business. And now look at them.”
Nate nodded. “They are pretty damn explosive.”
“Today was just a firing range. You missed the nuke last week.”
“What happened then?”
“Dad stopped by to
give Lindsey a check for her bouquet. He asked for a drink. I got him some water, and the glass’s condensation dripped on the table.”
Nate shrugged. I sighed. Maybe the trickle of water on my great-grandma’s antique end table meant more to Mom than normal people.
My family’s fights lacked foxholes, but that didn’t mean we weren’t digging shrapnel out of our butts every time Dad napalmed what good memories we had left with a careless water ring.
“I’ve never heard them fight like that before. I was in the room for the bombshell about every sexual incompatibility they ever had.” I pushed the fries away. Not even they could help block out that particular memory. “I know every repressed fantasy, Dad’s treatment for low testosterone, and one very bad experience with some sort of warming lubricant that, frankly, might turn me celibate.”
Nate smirked. “Don’t say that.”
“The PTSD is real.”
“Well, we absolutely can’t let celibacy happen. Tell you what…I’ll help you out. We’ll experiment with all the warming lube you want, baby. We’ll get through this together.”
“My hero.”
“Gotta help a damsel in distress. Closing those legs? That’ll be the biggest mistake of your life.”
I was pretty sure opening them was the biggest mistake I’d made to date.
I don’t know what was worse—getting pregnant…or staring into the beautiful green eyes of the father-to-be that had no idea how much his life was going to change.
I never expected Nate Kensington to actually give a damn about anyone but himself, but he served me food and listened while I blabbered about how I was feeling. I always felt confident and sexy after flirting with him. Suddenly, I was…comforted after just talking with him.
His smile made me feel like the most beautiful woman in his bar. And when he touched me? It was like no one in the world could tear us apart.
But it wasn’t enough, not now that I had the baby to protect.
“It sounds like an afternoon made-for-TV movie, but…” He leaned closer, brushing my hand as he stole another French fry. “You know it’s not your fault, right?”