by Lindsey Hart
I reach Pearl first since she’s on the end of the bridesmaid’s line up. “Oh my god,” she mutters as soon as I’m within hearing distance. “I thought we were heading for certain death there.”
“Should I get something to clean that up?”
She stares at me like I just literally grew a second head out of my elbow. “Uh, no. No, you should not. Mom or Dad will do it, I guess.”
“They’re all dressed up, and they have to be in pictures soon. I’ll do it. It will keep me busy until you’re free of the lineup of people waiting to sweat all over you as they hug you and rip your hand off shaking it.”
“Thanks,” she groans. She lifts a hand to her forehead. “Is the bump obvious, or is the makeup still doing a good job of hiding it?”
I check the bruise she’s referring to. We were both relieved this morning to see that the swelling had gone way down, but unfortunately, there was an ugly yellowy-green bruise roughly two inches in diameter, in its place.
“They did an amazing job,” I assure her. “I’d almost completely forgotten about it.”
“Son, are you going to move along? I want to hug my granddaughter,” one of Pearl’s grannies grunts from behind me. I’m still not sure which is which, as I’m shit with names. “You’re taking up all the prime hugging real estate. You can have her after, you know. Save your sweet nothings for tonight.”
There’s high pitched tittering and giggling following that statement. Pearl blushes straight through the foundation she has on, which must be quite thick to cover up the bruise on her forehead, but somehow, she still looks natural. Damn, makeup artists are good at their jobs. I’m assuming they had one come. Maybe one of Susan’s friends is a genius. I don’t know who to give credit to, but I send up a silent thank you to the universe.
“Can I hug you? The crowd is getting demanding.”
“Yeah,” Pearl says quickly. She blinks, and I can tell she’s somewhat surprised. “Please do.”
I’m not sure if she’s talking about selling this or what, but I don’t hesitate. I lean in and envelope her in my arms, and god, she feels so good. Like she belongs there. I’m so startled that I probably hug her a little too tightly. At least the breath doesn’t rush out of her lungs or anything. She does gasp a little, but maybe it’s because she can feel my semi-eager stick trying to unleash itself on her. Maybe she isn’t certain about how I inhaled the scent of the product they sprayed her hair with, which is delicious and smells like fruit, or how I linger just a second too long. Her breath hitches when I brush my lips over the shell of her ear and whisper something far more than just a sweet nothing, it’s meaningful. And it’s the truth.
“You look gorgeous. I know you were trying really hard not to steal the show, but you do that just by existing. You’re the most beautiful woman here.”
“Okay, you’ve had your chance.” Pearl’s grandma, I think it’s the one she was named after, elbows me aside. She’s all of five feet tall and has a head of pure white curls. Her eyes snap with life, and I can just tell she was a real spitfire back in her day. She probably still is. I’ve never seen an old lady who looked like she was considering kicking my ass and offering me freshly baked cookies at the same time.
“I’ll get the mess dealt with,” I promise Pearl before moving off down the line. There is indeed quite a gap between Fred and me, and my cheeks heat up when I notice. Maybe I was lingering overly long. It’s not like I could help myself. Pearl is indeed a showstopper. No faking anything there.
As I quickly make my way down the line, shaking hands fast and making a break for the house after, where I can hopefully find some paper towels, or just a towel or something, I hear Pearl’s other granny tittering to her husband again about ‘eager young bucks, and remember when…’
I tune the rest of it out even though I’m sure it’s a joke, and then I make a break for the safety of the house. It’s still quiet inside here as everyone is outside, at least for the moment. The first thing I spot is a roll of paper towel perched on the counter. I make a mad grab for it and walk around opening cupboards until I find a stash of trash bags under the sink.
Yes, I’m going to clean up the barf. And no, I’m not going to enjoy it.
At least I’ll focus on that, though, and not the weird tingling and tightening that goes on in my chest every single time I even think about Pearl. I’m not so sure this is fake anymore, which is bad news for me, because she still doesn’t know who I am. Or at least that I’m rich. I can’t change that. I can’t change the fact that I need to cover my own ass. I can’t change that I can’t exactly take chances without a lot of shit going straight down the drain and a lot of people suffering for my carelessness. I can’t change any of it, but Pearl kind of makes me wish I could. No, not kind of.
There isn’t any kind of about it.
CHAPTER 14
Pearl
Phew. So, puking disaster aside, we’re at the point of the night where the wedding party finally gets its freedom. The dinner is done, speeches are over, the cake is cut, first dances are out of the way, and I can finally escape from the head table and go back to just blending in with the rest of the crowd. I carefully held off drinking until I was done with my speech since alcohol caused enough disasters in the wedding for one day, but now I’m slipping away from the table, picking my way through the throngs of people in the hall—which isn’t that big, so it’s pretty crowded—trying to make my way to the round table off to the side where my mom, dad, both sets of grandparents, and Gabriel were seated.
I want to make sure he’s okay. I haven’t really had a decent chance to talk to him since the receiving line this morning when he hugged me and somehow made my world implode and explode at the same time. I was pretty much useless in the line after that. Just a bag of gooey jelly that somehow managed to stay standing, mechanically smiling and shaking people’s hands while all the while, I was buzzing on the inside, thinking about Gabriel’s woodsy, manly scent and the feel of his lips whispering over my ear.
He sounded pretty serious when he told me I was beautiful. Like he really meant it and felt something behind it.
The sensation has stayed with me all day.
Thankfully, Gabriel hasn’t escaped yet. He’s sitting at the table, sandwiched between my two grandmas. I scan the area, spot Dean, who flashes me a thumbs-up sign before hurrying off towards the bar, which is really just the kitchen counter window thing where some brave volunteers are pouring booze like there’s going to be another prohibition era and everyone needs to drink their fill now.
I edge a little closer to the table so that I can hear what Gabriel is saying. Both my grandmas are hanging on his every word. Or maybe they just like the smell of him too, and leaning in lets them get just a little bit more of it. Yeah, Gabriel’s scent is that good. I want another lungful too. I’ve been secretly plotting how to get close to him all day while I smiled for pictures, ate dinner, and made toasts to my sister. I was thinking about him. The. Whole. Freaking. Time.
Which, to be clear, is really annoying and distracting. My whole body aches, and if my nipples got any harder, I think they’d actually turn to stone and fall off.
“I volunteer at this great program for seniors,” Gabriel is telling my grandmas. Good lord god, he’s gorgeous, and he’s talking with his hands, too. Clearly, he’s really into this. It makes my heart swell to see him like that, interacting with my family and my grandmas, who I love so much. Not many people like old people, but I can tell Gabriel isn’t just pretending. He has no idea I’m standing behind him, observing everything. “We put it on at a library in Seattle. It runs every single night, but I volunteer once a week. Getting seniors online can be a really great thing for them. Using a computer and a smartphone isn’t just for young people. They can be great tools to help people stay connected. Loneliness and isolation are very real for a lot of people, and I think technology can be a great tool to bridge that gap. It’s not just great for communication either. There are some amazing tuto
rials online, games, hobbies, all of it…” Gabriel goes on, talking more about technology and seniors, and my grandmas stay dialed right into it.
Great.
Not only am I utterly enamored with Gabriel, my grandmas, including the one I was named after, is too. Gabriel has both Pearls wrapped around his finger. Effortlessly. He slid into my life so freaking effortlessly, and now, after just a few days, it’s hard to imagine him sliding right out of it.
Stop him then. I could make him stay. I could tell him this isn’t so fake for me anymore.
But you’re the one who wanted no strings attached. You’re the one who’s afraid of getting hurt again. All guys are assholes, remember? You know it’s the truth. Just because he’s shiny and flashy at the beginning doesn’t mean he won’t turn into a giant douche canoe shortly. Or in a few months. A year. Whatever. It always ends the same way. Okay, maybe not always. Guys don’t always do the whole threesome thing in your bed, but the fact that it just goes to bullshit and it kind of really hurts is pretty much guaranteed.
Stop it. This isn’t tomorrow. It’s tonight. If you want no strings attached, you can still have it. He’s right there. Maybe he wants no strings too. Maybe shit is getting real for him, and he wouldn’t mind finding a freaking janitor’s closet or skipping out back to my parent’s house and banging for a few hours before they leave the wedding.
Enough. You’re sick.
I’m not sick. You’re sick. My brain tries to argue with me.
I knock off the internal debate because it’s just getting weird. I don’t usually argue with myself. And no, I’m not hearing voices. It’s all just me running through my options, reminding myself why Gabriel is here with me in the first place, and thinking about breaking all the rules, just for tonight.
I’m not a one-night stand kind of person, for the record. I’ve never done that before. I’ve never wanted to do that before. I don’t want to do that now, but if it’s the only way to have Gabriel, the safest way for my emotions and heart and all that, then I might take it. I don’t know. We’ll cross that line when we get to it. If we get to it. Shit. How am I thinking about lines already? There aren’t supposed to be lines. Or maybe there should be because I need to draw the line somewhere.
Enough.
I swallow hard, gather my courage, and step forward. I set my hand gently on Gabriel’s shoulder. He starts, but just a little. I feel the tremor go through him, and it makes me all tremor-y and tingly in response. All over.
“Hey,” I say softly. “I thought I’d come and rescue you now that I’m done with my duties for the day and am officially free, but I see you’re having a great time. You’ve been commandeered by my grandmas.”
“Talking to two beautiful women is a great way to pass the time until the most beautiful woman of all can come and join me.”
My grandmas both titter softly behind their hands. Oh my god. Is Grandma Pearl blushing? I think she’s blushing. Jesus. I know I’m probably scarlet.
“Stop,” I whisper. What I want to say is he doesn’t have to fake it. Everyone already loves him, but when I look at his eyes, which are sparkly and shiny and beautiful, like the rest of him, I can’t see anything that’s not genuine.
“Looks like she’s come to steal our entertainment for the evening,” Grandpa Pearl says. “At least do us the honor and give us a dance. We’d love to watch that. Then you can escape to find a broom closet or ditch this joint or whatever you had planned.”
“Young lovers,” Grandma Brunhilda sighs dreamily, but she can’t keep her smile off her lips. “So romantic. So frisky.”
I make a sound low in my throat that probably resembles a wild beast getting chased by a pack of lions. I’m just glad neither of my grandpas is currently sitting at the table to start in on the ribbing. I don’t need to hear my grandparents reminisce about the days of their getting it on and finding broom closets. How the hell did Grandma know that was on my mind anyway? Good lord. How mortifying.
Gabriel just laughs it off. He shoves his chair back and extends his hand. “A dance sounds just about perfect. Is that what you came to fetch me for?”
“Uh, I came to ask you if you wanted a drink. I could definitely use one.”
“A dance and a drink. Sounds great.”
“And romantic,” Grandma Pearl says with another high-pitched tittle.
“And sexy,” grandma Brunhilda adds.
“Stop,” I warn them both. “That’s inappropriate.”
“Inappropriate my fanny,” grandma Pearl snorts. “We know where babies come from. Did you know they say that when a woman is born, all the eggs she’s ever going to have are actually inside her already? So technically, you came from me. I know all about conception and birth and everything that happens up to that point.” She winks at me.
Oh. My. Farging. God. Why? Just why? I’d ask what the actual fuck, but this is my grandma here, and I try not to drop F-bombs in front of her. So I just stare and slowly shake my head. And hope she gets the message.
“Is that actually true?” Gabriel sounds impressed.
“You bet it is, Sonny,” Grandma Pearl assures him. “I know my sciences.”
“Lord,” I mutter. Before anything worse can escape either of my grandma’s mouths, I grab Gabriel and tug him towards the dancefloor.
There’s some horrible slow, sappy, wedding song on that half the people there are swaying to. I hate slow and sappy. I actually hate dancing too. I’m very aware that as Gabriel’s arm slips around my waist and mine twine around his neck and our bodies bump together because it’s appropriate for this kind of dance—not because I want it to happen (no, I don’t always act on the commands from my lady bits and hormones, thank you very much)—that this is just going to add fuel to my grandmas’ fire. They’re probably already placing bets on a wedding date and a baby. Not necessarily in that order.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, staring at Gabriel’s shoulder since I don’t dare look him in the eye right now. “They’re really inappropriate.”
“Funny, though.”
“They like to embarrass me.”
“They’re nice. Nothing wrong with having people who love you bug you just a little. I think it’s what they’re created for.”
Gabriel’s hand tightens on the small of my back, and he tugs me in a little to avoid crashing into a couple I don’t even know. They’re moving a bit fast for the tempo of the music, clearly dancing to their own beat while nearly taking people out all over the place. The result is that our knees knock a little, but other things also bump, which creates a flurry of excited shivers.
“I had a good time today. Your family is nice. The wedding was great, and I don’t really even like weddings.”
“Why? Because they’re sappy and corny and long or because you don’t believe that relationships actually last and it’s kind of a waste of money and time and effort all around for everyone?”
“That’s very cynical.” Gabriel drops his head and lets his breath puff out on my neck. It’s warm and misty. He’s probably the only person I’d rate breathing as being on the list of sexy attributes. Being alive could also classify since I’ve never seen anyone as effortlessly and wonderfully beautiful in a manly way as he is.
“Or the truth.”
“But your parents are still together. And your grandparents. Your sister looks really happy. I’m guessing this bad experience is all in your past and not past examples from your family.”
I can feel myself stiffen. “Yeah, I might have met some duds. But whatever.”
“Which is why you want to stay single, and which is why I’m here.” His words are whispered, still on my neck and right by my ear. His hand tightens just a little, protectively, when he says it. Like he can imagine all the douche wads I’ve dated and would like to give them an ass-kicking.
It’s kind of hot though I don’t want anyone’s ass kicked. It’s all in the past, the very distant past, but it still makes me feel oddly squishy on the inside.
I’m not sure how to respond to that without getting into my life story in the middle of a dance floor with a whole bunch of my extended family around to hear, so I take a chance and shift my face away so I can look up at Gabriel. A big chance. A big risk.
“Do you want to get out of here? I mean, maybe we could just go for a walk. I know neither of us has a car since mine’s still back home, but it would only take twenty minutes to get there, and it’s a nice night. We could talk or not talk once we are at the house. I don’t know.”
“You mean, stay silent?” Gabriel’s lips twitch. Good. I’m glad to see that I’m amusing.
“I think you know what I mean.”
“For the record, is this escape because you need some fresh air or because you’d like to change your status?”
Dear god, could it sound any worse? This is exactly why I don’t do things like this.
“I don’t want to change my status.” I’m no longer so sure about that, but I do know nothing good would come of it. I’ve already decided that if this is going to happen, whatever and however far this is, it is definitely no strings.
“I can’t change mine,” Gabriel says, then looks like he regrets it. “I’m single, but that’s not what I meant. I just meant I’d like to keep it that way. For similar reasons.”
“I don’t do this kind of thing.” It just pops out, and since I can’t take it back, I make it worse by tacking on, “but then again, I don’t usually pay people to be my boyfriend for the weekend either.”
“You’re sure you want to ditch?”
“We could just walk and talk, or if things happen, they happen, if it’s what we both want. I’m still driving you home tomorrow. I promise I can be an adult and not ask for your number or anything.”
“You already have it.”
“Right. Well, I promise not to blow up your phone. Or contact you. Ever.”
Something that looks strangely close to disappointment or regret flashes in Gabriel’s dark eyes, but maybe it’s just a trick of the lights overhead. Said lights are actually making me sweat. That has to be it. I’ll blame them because they’re kind of hot on the dance floor.