by Lacey Black
“And you, sir?” our server asks as she steps behind Freedom to take my order.
“I’ll take a cheese, mushroom, and green pepper omelet with a side of bacon.”
A gasp echoes over the conversations around us. “Bacon?”
When I turn her way, I find Freedom’s eyes wide in disbelieve. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Bacon? You can’t eat bacon,” she states, folding up her menu and handing it to the server. “He’ll have the tofu cakes too.”
My stomach does a pirouette straight south into Yuckville. “No, I will not eat that weird crap. I’ll have the bacon,” I tell our server, who just looks at us with a confused look on her face.
With one final glance our way, she quickly turns to Emma and Orval for their orders. I turn to the woman on my left, lower my voice, and ask, “What’s wrong with bacon?”
“There’s nothing wrong with it, per se, but I’m just really devastated about how they treat those pigs at the farm in Missouri. Did you hear about it?”
My television, when it’s on, is usually on some news program, so yes, yes I’ve heard about the large hog operation where the owners were supplementing their food with some less than quality products. A few of the pigs even died from the bad diet and the owners left their corpses in the pens for the others to feast on. A worker finally called the authorities, which ended up hitting national news when it was discovered the owner of the farm is a senator’s son.
“I heard,” I finally confirm, chugging my too-hot coffee.
“Well, then you must agree with me, right? That’s a horrible way to treat an animal,” she states, her eyes a little glossy from unshed tears. One thing I’ve learned about Freedom in the last twenty plus years, she’s incredibly soft-hearted, especially with animals, but while she doesn’t eat meat, she’s never pushed her beliefs off on anyone around her. She’s never criticized Harper or our family for that matter when we eat cheeseburgers or steak. Freedom just politely declines and picks something else.
“Horrible,” I agree, keeping my eyes ahead of me. Marissa and Rhenn chat with Kathryn and Jensen, completely oblivious to the fact I’m caught in my own personal hell, with Freedom on one side and our aunt and uncle on the other.
Once everyone has placed their orders, Latham’s dad stands up and asks for our attention. “If I could have your attention, please. Kitty and I are honored to be in Las Vegas today to celebrate the union of our son, Latham, to this incredible woman,” he says, waving his hand toward my younger sister. “Harper, you make Latham a better person with your love and compassion. We’re eager to watch you two become husband and wife, as well as blend two families for life. We’re proud of you both and wish you a lifetime of happiness. Let’s raise our cups and glasses to Harper and Latham.”
I hold my coffee cup and salute my sister and her fiancé, as my heart gallops in my chest like a stallion. They did it right. They dated, have lived together, fell in love. Now, they’re pledging their love and committing for life. The right way.
Then there’s me.
Getting shitfaced drunk and apparently marrying a woman I can barely stand. Wait, that seems a little inaccurate. It’s not that I dislike her, it’s the fact we’re so different.
A bead of perspiration slides down my spine as Freedom shifts in her chair beside me. Her hand brushes against mine in the most innocent way possibly, yet it feels like a bolt of lightning straight into my bloodstream. A pulse lives and breathes in my veins, like a reckless desire I can’t seem to contain.
All from the simplest of touches.
“We brought a gift,” Emma announces to the table, standing up and reaching for the gift bag she brought with. “I was going to wait until after the wedding for this, but I recall on my wedding day, I was terribly nervous,” she says, as she slowly makes her way to the head of the table to where Harper and Latham sit.
Harper kinda giggles but doesn’t really look nervous. In fact, I’d say she looks the opposite. She looks excited. Happy. Content.
“I was so nervous, I snuck out of my parents’ room and to the hall closet where my Orvie was hiding.”
“Oh God,” Marissa gasps, her eyes wide with shock at our aunt’s insinuation.
“Yes, that’s right, Marissa. I was calling our good Lord and savior just moments before walking down the aisle to say I do.”
Harper giggles, while mom covers her eyes with her hand.
“The gift!” Emma hollers, handing the bag to my sister.
Carefully, as if she were afraid of something to jump out at her, she pulls out layers of tissue paper before she retrieves a multicolor blanket. Latham takes it, and together, they stand up and unfold the large blanket. Several gasps echo throughout the room, and not necessarily from our table.
“I learned how to crochet this past summer,” Emma boasts, clapping her hands.
“Are those…” Jensen starts, but suddenly stops. His hand goes to his mouth as he tries to hid his laugh.
“What is that?” Marissa asks, leaning forward to get a better view of the intricate detail of the blanket.
“Holy shitballs, Sammy. That’s a sex blanket,” Freedom says as she places her hand on my forearm, her nails biting my flesh through my button-down. I adjust my tie to keep from reaching for her fingers.
I don’t look at my arm, however. My eyes are glued to the train wreck of a wedding gift because there, delicately crocheted in bold colored yarn is a couple engaging in sexual acts in just about every position known to man. Dozens of positions, some I’ve never even heard of before.
“What in the world is that thing?” Mom asks, her cheeks pink as she looks at her brother and sister-in-law.
“It’s a fertility blanket. It’ll help get the juices flowing and baby gods buzzing,” Emma insists, proudly waving her hand in front of the blanket like Vanna White.
Harper’s ears turn a lovely shade of red, and I have to look away. While I’m well aware my sisters and their significant others are…adults, and engage in…adult things, I can think of a dozen things I’d rather be doing right now than thinking about my sisters and…that. Root canal with no pain meds. Run over my foot with a semi. Rip my arm off and beat myself to death with it. All things I’d rather do than allow a sexual thought featuring one of my siblings to enter my brain.
“Do you see that reverse cowgirl, Sammy? That’s amazing needlework,” Freedom coos, as if this obnoxious blanket is the greatest thing since sliced bread.
“Are you serious?”
She turns those dark eyes my way. They’re dancing with humor and enthusiasm. “Definitely! Do you not understand how critical a good reverse cowgirl is, Sammy?”
“Very important!” Emma hollers, ensuring all eyes—every single pair in the restaurant—is on me.
“True, Samuel. There’s nothing like watching the bounce of a beautiful cowgirl.” This from my eighty-something-year-old uncle. Vomit burns my throat, and I’m one-hundred percent sure I’m going to have to give myself a head injury to rid the image his comment just conjured up. “That’s good stuff,” Orval replies, raising a hand in toast.
I’m starring in the Twilight Zone. That’s the only reasonable explanation as to why we’re discussing sex positions during brunch, mere hours before my sister’s wedding. It’s not real. I’m still in bed, sleeping off my hangover. I’m not surrounded by my family, by inappropriate conversations and gifts. I’m not stuck listening to my aunt and uncle overshare stories of their marriage. I’m not married.
But I am.
It’s all real.
My reality.
Chapter Eight
Freedom
We’re getting ready in a suite bigger than my apartment. I don’t know how they secured this baby, but kudos to Latham for going all out on the honeymoon suite. The bed in the other room is big enough to comfortably sleep a family of four, much bigger than my postage stamp bed back at home. Not that you’d invite a family of any size to join you in bed, especially on your wedding night
, but you get my point.
Marissa tops off my champagne and I catch the sparkle of the diamond on my finger. If anyone has noticed it, they haven’t said, which I’m grateful. Not that I’m embarrassed or upset I’m wearing Samuel’s ring. Oh, no. Just the opposite, actually. But I don’t want what has happened between us to overshadow or cause pain to my bestie. It’s her day, after all. We’re here for her and Latham, to celebrate their love and witness their union in holy matrimony.
“Free, are you about ready?” Harper hollers through the bedroom doorway.
“Thanks,” I say to Marissa as she tops off her own glass and heads toward where Harper is getting ready. “Coming!”
I follow Harper’s younger sister to the bedroom, where I’m stunned silent at the vision of my friend. She’s simply gorgeous in her strapless ivory lace gown that hugs her curves from chest to thigh. It fans out subtly at her knees and cascades around her sexy ivory pumps. Her long, auburn hair hangs in big soft waves down her back, three rhinestone jeweled flowers pinning some of those curls from her face.
“Holy shitballs, Harper. You’re…wow!”
My best friend smiles widely. “You think?” She glances down at her dress, softly touching the lace at her sides.
“Oh, Latham is going to shit a brick when he sees you,” I confirm, making my friend laugh.
“Well, I kinda hope not, but I do hope his reaction is as big as yours.”
“No worries there,” Marissa adds, emptying the champagne bottle into her sister’s glass. “He’ll swallow his tongue.”
“Well, as long as he coughs it up so he can use it later,” Harper says, a sly grin showing over the rim of her champagne glass. “His tongue is one of my favorite attributes.”
“I’m not sure I want to know what I walked in on,” Mary Ann, Harper’s mom, says as she enters the bedroom. “Oh, Harper.” She stops and covers her mouth with her hands as tears brim in her eyes.
“You like?”
Mary Ann approaches her daughter and takes her into her arms, holding her tightly in a hug. “You’re beautiful,” she says, those tears no longer contained. They fall freely, and I admit, they even choke me up a bit.
Mary Ann has always been a surrogate mom to me. The mother I always longed for. My own parents took off when I was in grade school, leaving me in the hands of my maternal grandma. When I became friends with Harper, I sort of adopted her mom as my own. We had sleepovers, ate dinner together at each other’s houses, and essentially spent all of our free time with one another. Through it all, I’ve sat by and watched the dynamics between mother and daughter. Not just with Harper, but with all of her kids. Mary Ann is an extraordinary mother, and I am fortunate to have that in my life.
Their whole family, actually. While I appreciate what my grandma did for me, it was the Grayson family that really made my childhood what it was. From moving around, living in spiritual compounds to finally having a home with a real family. That’s what they mean to me. Not just Harper, but the entire family.
My family.
Mary Ann is wearing a blue pantsuit with nude pumps, and she’s totally hot. Marissa looks a lot like her mom, a bit on the shorter side with dark hair and green eyes, but there’s no denying the relation. Harper, on the other hand, favors her dad’s look. Tall, slender, stunning blue eyes, and gorgeous auburn locks. Plus, throw in the brains. She has a business sense to rival any big corporation in the area, and does it while selling silky nighties.
My bestie is beautiful, inside and out.
And about to marry Latham.
I knew back in school we’d be right here someday. They did everything they could to get under each other’s skin. It was like foreplay. A dance. A seduction that spanned more than a decade. The moment Latham walked into Kiss Me Goodnight, after being gone for ten years, the world finally righted itself. And now, they’re getting married.
I couldn’t be happier for her.
Spinning the unfamiliar object on my ring finger, I debated on whether or not to take it off. It’s foreign on my left hand, considering I haven’t worn a ring since the mood one I sported in high school, but there’s something so very right and…familiar, all the same. It’s like good juju finally settled around me. I don’t know how to explain it, but I’m not about to question it either. That’s why the ring stays on my finger. If someone asks about it? Well, I guess I’ll figure it out then.
“How are you doing?” Mary Ann’s soft voice startles me from my own thoughts.
“Oh,” I reply with an immediate smile. “I’m good.”
She just grins that knowing motherly smile. Like when Harper and I were in high school and skipped PE class to go get milkshakes. Without so much as a phone call, she knew. How? I’ll never know, but she did. “I’m happy you’re here, Freedom. For Harper.”
“Thank you, Mrs. G. Nowhere else I’d rather be.”
That’s when she glances down at my finger as I’m nervously spinning the double rings adorned there. My heart stops. Literally. It just stops doing its only job, beating and pumping blood through my body. I can’t breathe, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to drop dead any second from lack of oxygen to my brain.
But she doesn’t call me out on my finger bobble. Instead, she smiles, soft and gentle. She wraps me in a hug and whispers, “You’re a part of this family, Freedom. Always.” Then, she kisses me on the cheek and backs away, giving my left hand a light squeeze before she returns to where her daughter stands in the center of the room in her wedding dress.
There’s a slight tremble to my fingers as I bring my glass to my lips and drink. If only Mary Ann knew what her words meant to me. Actually, maybe she does know and that’s why she shared them. Either way, my eyes hold slight tears as I look around the room, taking in this family I’ve come to love.
My family.
They’ve always accepted me, weirdness and all. I’ve always known I was different, even as a young child. You’re not raised by hippies and named Freedom Rayne without being even a little weird. But they’ve never made me feel like an outcast, like I wasn’t allowed to be whomever I wanted to be. Even Samuel. He may not understand it, and Lord knows anything not black and white is a struggle for him, but he’s never made me feel anything less than accepted.
Even now.
Even as he struggles to come to terms with the turn of events in our lives, he makes me feel alive.
Wanted.
That’s all I can ask for in a world where you’re so easily cast aside for being different. A world where they do doubletakes when you enter a room because your jewelry is gawdy and maybe a little noisy. A world where they roll their eyes every time you get excited about the benefits of healing powers. A world where they shun you for speaking your mind when faced with prejudice and adversity.
A world where differences aren’t always accepted.
But not this family.
They accept me.
Strangeness and all.
***
I’m not a crier, but I openly admit my eyes get a little misty when I turn to see my bestie walk down the short aisle on her oldest brother’s arm. She’s radiating sunlight as she walks toward Latham, who can’t seem to take his eyes off the woman he loves.
And let’s take a moment to talk about Samuel. He looks confident and stunning in his suit, but honestly, he always does. As he gives his sister away, there’s something different about him. He looks completely relaxed, sure, but there’s a hint of sadness there. As if a longing he can’t seem to contain is fighting to get out.
When they reach the end of the aisle, the minister asks, “Who gives this woman to wed this man?”
Samuel confidently and proudly states, “I do.” Then he turns to his younger sister, hugs her tightly, and passes her hand to the man she’s about to marry.
As he walks to the front row to take the empty seat between their mother and his siblings, I catch his eyes raking over my body. I’m wearing a taupe dress with tiny aqua flowers around the waist,
the hemline just below my knees. To be honest, I rarely wear a skirt that isn’t ankle-length, but when I saw this one, I knew it was perfect for tonight. Simple, yet elegant, and if the way Samuel’s eyes devour my curves, I’d say I made a good choice in dresswear.
Good.
I’m in the second row, alone, and suddenly, he stops. He doesn’t take a seat. He glances down the row to his two siblings and their fiancés, and then back to his mom. There’s indecision written on his face, but it’s quickly replaced with acceptance.
Samuel walks around his family and joins me in the second row. Marissa and Mary Ann both glance back at me when they see where he’s going, his mom giving me a wink and a smile. I feel his body heat, his presence as he takes the empty seat beside me. His leg brushes against mine, and I have to stop myself from reaching over and taking his hand. But I don’t.
I watch in rapture as my bestie for life professes her love to the man of her dreams. I’m not sure when I started to cry, but when Samuel hands me a handkerchief from his inside coat pocket, I smile. Dabbing my wet eyes, my heart beats wildly in my chest, so full of love and elation for my best friend and the life she’s making.
A life I secretly want.
Not with Latham.
With someone else.
Warmth wraps around my left hand as he laces his fingers with my own. The act only makes the tears come even quicker. I’m lost in the sensations of his soft skin against mine, the comfort that silent act provides. My eyes bounce between the couple at the front of the room and to the hand holding my left one. I think witnessing the combination of declaration of forever and friendship and understanding beside me is almost too much.
It just makes the tears fall even faster.
When the ceremony is done and they’re pronounced man and wife, Latham kisses his bride with everything he has, claiming her as his own. Forever.