He moves behind me, sweeping away my hair from my ear. “Good, I always want you to feel at home here,” he whispers, then nibbles my neck. Goosebumps run over my skin and my knees nearly give with the touch of his lips. He only stops kissing my neck and shoulders when the phone rings.
“Don’t move,” he says as he takes a step away to grab the phone, one hand still on my hip.
Me, move? Never. There’s no other place for me. As he scribbles something down on a Post-It, I check out the gray wooden-framed photos on the nearest wall. There’s one of Justin with his arm wrapped around the shoulder of a redhead with flawless skin, and Justin’s green eyes.
“That’s Tonya, my sister,” Justin says as he gets off the phone.
“She’s beautiful.”
“Ha. You tell her that immediately, and she’ll love you. Trust me.”
“I’d love to meet her someday.”
“Well, now that you mention it…” He nods to the garment bag and my shoes he put to rest on the table. “That’s kind of the surprise.”
“Meeting your sister?” That’d be cool. I could handle that, as long as Justin was there. Honestly, sometimes I think I can handle anything with Justin at my side.
“Actually,” he bites his lower lip. “Don’t hate me, but kind of my entire family.”
My stomach drops through the floor. He immediately steps closer, rubbing my lower back.
“Your parents and sister? Like, tonight?” I choke out.
He nods. “And Grandma…At a campaign fundraiser.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“No.”
I reach out for a chair. All in one night? Crap. What’s in the garment bag? I don’t have anything on earth that would fit this occasion. I grab it, unzipping it like a mad woman. A dress with a white lace overlay rests on the hanger, a Nordstrom’s tag still attached.
“Did you buy this?”
He pulls up the chair next to me and takes my hand. “Yes.”
I stare stupidly at the dress. What if it doesn’t fit? I have a hard enough time finding stuff that works on my body. He’s got to be kidding me. If I put this on and it doesn’t fit… What will I say to him?
“You okay?”
“Umm, this is a lot.” Too much. Too risky.
He takes the dress in his hands. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sprung this on you. My goal was that you wouldn’t worry for days before meeting my family.” He takes out his cell. “Listen, I’ll call them and let them know I was an idiot and that we need to reschedule.”
Yes, reschedule. That way I can go buy a new dress that will fit, practice my greeting, and at least have clean hair. Definitely.
With my hand free from his, I slide the lace overlay of the dress between my fingertips. It’s so beautiful. I’m nuts. Yeah, it’s a majorly dumb move to buy a girl clothing and surprise her with meeting the family, but at least Justin’s trying. Hell, chick flicks are filled with that scene where the girl opens a beautiful box and her dream dress lies nestled in tissue paper. This is totally romantic. If the dress doesn’t fit, we’ll swing by my house, and I’ll wear one from the summer. If I’m dressed too casually, I’ll still survive.
“Don’t cancel.” I reach out and take his phone. “This is amazing. I just needed time to wrap my mind around it.” I squeeze his palm. “I want to meet your family, and the dress… It’s gorgeous.”
“Really? You like it?”
“I love it. But, I can’t guarantee it’ll fit me.”
“Well, let’s find out,” he says as he pulls me up from the chair. His palm rests again on the small of my back as he leads me through the hall to the basement door. “My room’s down here.”
My fingertips tingle. His room? Okay, it’s just where he sleeps. No big deal… Except it is. Huge.
We pass through a sitting area with a large flat-screen TV and sectional couches, surrounded by blurred French doors. He opens one set, letting me step into his room alone. “I’ll wait out here while you change.”
I nod like an idiot as he closes the door behind me.
Holy crap. I finally take a deep breath, welcomed with the fresh scent that normally clings to Justin’s clothes. A queen-sized bed, made up with a hunter-green comforter, is positioned under the window. I scan the walls for posters of hot naked girls. None. Okay, good. His hamper is slightly overfilled in the corner of the room and random pens and notepads clutter the top of his dresser. I pick up a five-by-seven photo of Justin as a little boy with his brother and sister cooking s’mores around a campfire. His brother’s hair is gone, probably halfway through his leukemia battle. Tonya and Jackson’s arms are wrapped around Justin. He’s beaming.
My eyes sting and I quickly put the photo down. This is not the time to cry.
I eye the bed again and my tummy flips. As far as I’m concerned, that’s one of the most intimate places I can imagine Justin. My face warms, and I sneak a look at myself in the mirror. Crazy eyes with flushed cheeks. I pull my fingers through my hair, trying to keep the loony troll look at bay.
I pull off my jeans and my shirt. It’s weird to only be in my underwear and bra in here. The dress slides easily over my head, sitting nicely on the hips. It even fits over my chest without pulling at the fabric. I turn in the mirror. What is this miracle dress?
Taking a deep breath, I open the door. Justin flips off the TV as he turns around.
“Lady, you look beautiful.”
“You didn’t actually pick this out, did you?” There’s no way a guy would be able to guarantee a perfect fit like this.
“I said I bought it…”
I turn and the dress twirls out just enough to expose my lower thigh, nothing too high. It’ll be awesome on a dance floor. Not that I dance, but still.
“Laura?” This isn’t her style, but she’s definitely been shopping with me a few times to know my size and what not to buy.
“Nope.”
“My mom?” I ask in disbelief. There’s no way I can picture her in a store with nice dresses like this. Especially with Justin. It just doesn’t mesh.
He runs his hand down the lace on my back.
“Tonya.”
“But, she’s never seen me.”
“Her business is fashion. I gave her some photos of you, she sized you, and dragged me to the right dress. The only input I got was the color, and barely even that. She’s pretty controlling about that stuff.”
“Well, at least I know I’ll be wearing something she approves of.”
“Don’t ever worry about that, okay? Most of the time Tonya trots around town in workout pants and a tank top.”
“Okay, cool.” I tug at the dress. “Do you mind if we swing by my house so I can do my hair and makeup?”
Justin picks up a backpack. “That’s where your mom came in.” My makeup bag, hairdryer, shampoo, conditioner, and hair wand are all within. If there was ever a time she needed to come through, this was it. And, score, she did it well.
“So,” he nods back toward his room, “you want to wash up?”
“You don’t mind?”
He laughs, opening the door to his bathroom. “Well, it is inconvenient to know the most beautiful girl in the world is taking a shower in my shower, but I’ll survive.” He kisses the back of my neck. Tingles of awesome shoot down my spine. “Can you be ready in forty minutes? We’re due at the fundraiser by five-thirty.”
“Fundraiser?”
“Yeah, it’s one of those pay-for-a-plate dinner things to fuel the last month of the governor campaign.” He wraps me in his arms. “Don’t worry. We aren’t staying long. At eight thousand dollars a plate, it’s pretty standard that the family shows up for the appetizers and then splits before the dinner and speeches. I was thinking we’d do Chipotle after?”
I breathe out a huge sigh of relief. Appetizers with his family is totally doable. It’s way less pressure than a whole dinner. “That sounds great.”
“All right, now go make my dr
eam come true.”
“Your dream?”
“Just get your butt in my shower.” He tosses me a towel.
I lock the door before turning on the water, instantly spraying hot. I carefully hang up the dress before taking the quickest shower imaginable. He knows I’m naked in here and it’s totally crazy knowing I’m naked in the same space he’s naked in every day. Not that we’re naked together. It’s just bizarre. My brain can’t separate it, and my heart races every time my mind drifts that way.
I hop out of the shower quickly. I don’t have time for those distractions right now. I’ve got to focus on the challenge ahead: meeting Justin’s family without making a total fool of myself.
Chapter Two
Justin
Pushing every button on the controller is useless. Not even the Twins versus the Brewers can keep my mind from picturing Lucy on the other side of that wall. Showering. Water-falling-overher-body-and-pooling-on-the-tile type showering.
Crap. I pull on my crotch to readjust for more room. This was not a good idea. I flip off the television. I need to get out of this basement. Now.
Upstairs, I grab water and open up my calendar app. My to-do list glares back at me. Perfect. There’s nothing sexy about this chaos. Captain’s basketball practice, post-secondary Psych, English, and Calc II, a meeting with Dad and Paul—Dad’s political image adviser, two phone conferences with the Leukemia society, a King and Queen visit to Northland Elementary with Jen, and prepping for the James. J. Hill House’s board meeting. All before Tuesday.
My eyes flicker up to the framed kid’s art on the wall. Four baseball bats surrounding an infield, expertly sketched by Jackson in the hospital. He lived for baseball. He would’ve gone major league, for sure. Even at eight, he had his whole life planned.
I yank on my hair and glare at this epic list. How would an older Jackson deal with this? He wouldn’t piss or moan. He’d tackle it straight on. I eye the hour slots on my calendar and make my game plan. Everyday needs an hour block for basketball with Lucy, just in case she wants to practice. I’ve seen the light in her eyes when she plays. There’s no way she’ll pass up tryouts. Being ready to help her the day she decides to make that leap again is important.
The sound of running water from below halts. Thank God. I snap my pencil as I strain to not picture her wrapping up in a towel. Frick.
The minute hand on the clock goes around three more times. All right, that dress has to be on by now. I fill up an extra glass of water for her and head back downstairs, choosing to sink into the couch rather than my man chair. I listen to her hairdryer buzz from behind my door as I Instagram a photo of us. Whoa, that last one got three-hundred and forty-one favorites. I click over to my profile. Five-hundred some followers? When did that happen?
The door clicks open and I drop my phone as Lucy enters. Holy crap. Every curve begs to be touched. I reach out, wrapping my arms around her. “You look beautiful.”
“Your sister has good taste.” She quickly glances away, covering up her discomfort with a quick brush of her bangs.
I cup her chin and lift her gaze to mine. “Lucy, you’ve got to understand… you’re so hot.”
Her skin flushes pink, making her blue eyes crystal.
“You,” I lean in and kiss her, slipping my fingers through that silky hair, “are torturing me. I hope you know that.”
“I can change back?”
“Only if I get to watch.” My gut somersaults as the words slip out. Now I’m picturing her sliding that dress over her head again. Get control. She rolls her eyes with a sly grin. Would I have the strength to look away if she was totally cool with changing in front of me? Or the strength to hold back everything else my body wants to do if she said yes?
I shift in my jeans, coughing to cover and calm the answer that’s in my pants. “All right, I’ll be back. Can’t show up tonight in this.” Everything about her is tantalizing in a way that drives me wild, from that look in her eyes to the way her hair falls on her shoulders and touches her chest… frick. I fumble with the door handle, finally ducking into the bedroom. With a yank, I’m down to my boxers. Whoa. Settle down! It’s a good thing we’re leaving or my body is going to flip. I’ve got to learn how to control this around her.
I pull on my gray Dockers and a green-and-white striped dress shirt. Paul hates the combo, wanting me to wear more purple hues, but screw him. This is what I like. I swing open the door to find Lucy turned away from me, thumbing through the Blu-rays along the wall.
My heart sputters like my old truck. What I wouldn’t give to have that view every time I open this thing.
“You ready?” she asks.
I pull her close. “The question is, are you?” The corner of her lip twitches. Clearly, she’s not. “We don’t have to do this tonight, Lucy. We can wait for you to meet my family later.”
“No, I want to meet them. Now is good.” She’s good at covering up her nerves from everyone, but she has an easy tell that she’s freaking out inside. Yup, there’s that lip twitch again. She pushes through though, confidently saying, “It’ll be good for me.”
“They’ll love you. I promise.” I squeeze her hand.
“We’ll see.”
***
Lucy shifts again in the chair, occasionally rubbing the tablecloth between her fingers. I take her cool hand in mine. It’s so small compared to my own. I enclose it in both hands, warming her skin in a pathetic attempt of helping her relax. A blond waiter nods at me, wearing hipster glasses that I could never pull off. A Fender guitar shirt flashes in my mind, replacing his button up white shirt. Ah! It’s Ian, that musical homeschooled guy I sit next to in post-secondary Psych.
I stand. Campaign family rule: we always stand when greeting. “Hey, Ian. Awesome to see you.”
“You too. Didn’t know you were the governor’s son.”
I shake his hand. “Not the governor yet. But let’s hope so.”
“I hope so too. Your dad is fantastic. Standing up for everything our congress is too chicken to face.” He holds out the tray. “Bacon-wrapped scallops?”
“Thanks.” I take two, passing one over to Lucy.
“Ian, this is my girlfriend, Lucy.”
He shifts a step back, focusing in on her eyes. Nice move, very polite dude. “Great to meet you. Justin and I are in Psych together. Here,” he nods down to the tray, “take another two.”
“Thanks,” Lucy says as she takes them. “It’s nice to meet you. Are you enjoying post-secondary?”
“Yes. Best addition to homeschool, ever.”
“Homeschool, really? I’ve never met anyone who’s homeschooled.”
He winks at her, but in a forced, dorky way. “Well, here’s a secret. We’re all pretty weird. Not concerned about what the crowd thinks. You know?”
I point to his hipster glasses. “Oh really?”
“I had these way before they were in.”
“Riiight.” Lucy laughs. God, I love that soft rolling tone. She begins another thought but a bald dude calling for scallops overpowers her voice.
“Well, the people need to eat. It was nice to meet you. I’ll see you Monday, Justin,” Ian says as he swerves through the tables toward that shiny-headed man.
Lucy sits back down with her legs crossed, hands actually visible on the table. She’s much less rigid now. I’ll have to thank Ian for his help next week. She’s fine for a bit as we chat about bacon but then her left hand drops, picking again at the tablecloth. Crap. I should have chosen a night when Alex was here as well.
“So, when do I get to meet these amazing parents of yours?”
“Soon. He’s almost done over there.” Dad’s shaking the hand of that donkey-like house rep with the straggly hair. He asked me to intern with him last summer, but his voice struck me wrong. Plus, no political internship could take me away from painting with the guys.
Mom catches my eye. I squeeze Lucy’s shoulder. Her lip twitches again. She’s gnawing a hole into the side of her ch
eek.
Mom waves as she approaches us.
“Here we go.” I give Lucy’s hand a solid squeeze. This was a horrible idea. What was I thinking?
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” Lucy smiles and waves back to Mom. She lets go of my palm, probably out of respect, linking her own fingers together in front of her.
“Hi, you must be Lucy.” They shake hands. I study Lucy’s smile as she responds. Not even a twitch.
“It’s wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Marshall.”
“Likewise. Beautiful dress.”
“Thank you. Your son gave it to me.”
Mom eyes me. “Ah ha. That explains why he went shopping with Tonya. I thought you were up to something.”
“Well, you did want to meet Lucy.”
“Yes, very much. But honey, I would have been happy to meet her wearing jeans and a t-shirt.”
“Ah, but then we couldn’t be here, could we?” I eye Mom’s blue, shiny dress.
“Good point.” She turns back to Lucy. “Well, please let me reassure you that I’m not this formal. This is all for show.” She waves at Dad, who’s finally stepping away from donkey-man. “Jeff, come meet Lucy,” she calls over the crowd.
Tonya’s head pops up from a nearby table and she immediately makes her way towards us, meeting Dad as he maneuvers our way too. All eyes turn on us. I grind my teeth at my own stupidity. Talk about the fakest way to meet my parents ever. My pinky finger finds Lucy’s; I briefly lock and squeeze before pulling back. Lucy stands up straight as she takes a step forward to shake Dad’s hand.
“Lucy, right? It’s so wonderful to meet you. I’m happy you could make it tonight.”
“It’s great to be here. Thank you for having me, Mr. Marshall.”
“Oh, you can call me Jeff.”
“And me Christy,” Mom adds.
“Tonya,” my sister chimes in as she gives Lucy a hug, winking at me over her shoulder. When she pulls away, she turns Lucy around. “A perfect fit.”
“Thanks. You made a great choice. I’d love to pick your brain about shopping someday. I’m pretty clueless.”
“I would love that.” Tonya says, her eyes squinting and making that folding crease she does after a good fashion show. Score. That look means Lucy’s been Tonya approved. I close the gap on Lucy as Tonya steps away, shielding her from the three hundred people staring at us.
Perfectly Messy Page 2