“Call me Donna . . . or Mom,” Mom says a little shyly, smiling hopefully. It feels weird, in some ways. Everyone knew it was coming, Courtney and I getting publicly engaged. It was about the worst kept secret ever, but it’s still hit all of us with the feels.
“Of course . . . Donna,” Courtney says haltingly. She’ll get there soon enough and call her Mom like everyone else does. It’s hard not to when she’s cooking for you.
Mom, of course, loves it and scrunches Courtney into a shoulder hug. “Come on, let’s sit. Dinner’s ready. Earl’s probably already munching on the bread,” she says before hollering over her shoulder, “Earl! Put that roll down!”
I’ve heard that tone. The ‘teasing, but I’m dead serious’ voice that Mom used on me. I’ve never heard her use it on anyone else. It’s jarring and kinda . . . sweet.
I’m still trying to figure them out. Earl and Mom started dating not long after he fixed the water heater, but it’s still weird to think of her having a steady boyfriend again. Then again, Earl’s been really good to her, and I can tell how much he likes her and enjoys spoiling her, something Mom definitely deserves. She smiles a lot more now too, and I think that’s because of him and his crazy stories.
Plus, I have never seen his plumber’s crack, which is definitely in the win column.
Oh, shit. I bet Mom has. Ugh . . . Moms and sex life do not go together, I don’t care how old she is or I am.
But I guess he’s not that bad.
And they’re moving slowly. Or maybe more like regular speed compared to Courtney and me?
As we sit down, I can see that there are very specifically eleven rolls on the platter and Earl’s cheeks are swollen up like a chipmunk’s. He has plenty of good traits, but it’s very clear he’s a bread thief.
We pass out the rest of the food, Earl politely taking only one roll while everyone else grabs two, and we dig in. Courtney can do fine dining and sterling silver forks and all that . . . but she’s just as comfortable eating meatloaf and mac n’ cheese on plain old Corelle dishes.
One more thing to love about her.
“Mmm, Donna, this is good.” Earl smiles around a mouthful, patting Mom’s hand, and I can suddenly see them doing this every night for a long time. I like that Mom has someone, even if it’s hard to add to the little family of just her and me.
We fought through struggles, found our paths to make dreams come true, and now, they finally are . . . for both of us.
“So, how’s the repair business coming along, Earl?” I ask. It’s the intro he needs to spin off into a tale about his exciting job as a plumber.
No, really.
As he starts, Mom pauses him. “Babe, is this a dinner friendly story?” She looks at Courtney. “A lot of his stories involve . . . poop.” She whispers that part, as if saying it quieter makes it more polite at the table. Courtney smiles and shrugs. No big deal to her.
“Yes, no shit in this one. But I went to a house this week, one of those big ones up on the hill, with this sweater set and pearls type lady. Complaint said a toilet was clogged. So I get there and go upstairs. They got one of those ‘kid’s areas’ at the top of the stairs, and there’s a guy playing video games. He gives me the ’sup? nod and I do the same.” He demonstrates as though we don’t know what a chin lift is.
“The lady shows me the bathroom and it’s like . . . a regular bathroom. She says that it’s her son’s, that’s the full-grown, twenty-something dude on the couch, apparently, and it was fine until he came home from college. My bet? He flunked out because of the video games.” He nods, certain.
“She said she thinks his bowel movements—” He holds his hand up to Mom. “It’s not about shit, I swear, Donna. Just hear me out.” Mom lifts a brow doubtfully but doesn’t interrupt. I’m glad because just from Earl’s accent and his way of storytelling, I’m in and thinking this’ll be a good one.
“His BMs aren’t right because all he eats is junk food. I’m thinking, no way is this guy’s dumps clogging this toilet. It’s one of those fancy ones that flushes golf balls by the dozens, you know? So I get to work, and she’s watching, not wanting to leave me alone in her house, like I’m gonna steal the fancy shampoo or some shit. I slide my auger down the toilet, and I’ll be damned, I come up on a clog. I’m going at it” —he mimics with his arm— “and not clearing the clog, no matter how hard I try.”
“What did you do?” Courtney asks, eyes wide and still eating her roll, not grossed out in the least. That’s my girl.
“I told the lady I was gonna need to take her toilet out and check the pipework on the other end, see if I could unclog it that way. That’s where it gets interesting.” We all lean forward, on the edge of our seats . . . about a toilet.
“So I do what I need to and put the toilet in the tub so it won’t drip on her tile floor and make a mess. I slip the auger up the other end of the pipe and pull out . . . a condom.” Earl grins, loving our disgusted reaction. “You think you’re freaked. The lady whispered, ‘What’s that?’ and I had to tell her it was a Trojan. So she’s holding her pearls and asks how it got there like I put it there, and I had to be the bearer of bad news and tell her that someone flushed it. She’s doing the whole ‘oh, my, no one in this house’ deal when I pull out another, and another, and another. They just keep coming like the toilet is a condom manufacturing plant. And she’s ‘ooh’, ‘ooh’, ‘oohing’ like it’s the second coming of Christ himself, and then switches to ‘no, no, no’ when that doesn’t stop them a-coming.”
Earl shoves a bite of mac n’ cheese into his mouth, and I ask, “Whose were they? The kid’s?”
Earl points at me with a thick finger. “At this point, I don’t know. I’m just pulling ’em out like a magician with never-ending handkerchiefs, ’cept they’s condoms. One right after the last. And I’m thanking my lucky stars that I have on rubber gloves for all this . . . body fluid.” Mom gasps, and Earl looks at her. “What? I didn’t say shit.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “You might as well go on now.” But I don’t think she’s upset in the least since she’s smiling right along with him.
“Then the joint butts start coming, a whole glob of them like someone flushed an ashtray’s worth of ’em. And Miss Priss is asking me ‘is that marijuana?’ assuming I’d know, but c’mon, everybody knows what a joint looks like. I’ve seen movies, you know?” He shrugs. “At this point, she’s had enough and stomps off, no care about the fancy shampoo now, and I can hear her yelling at the guy. I guess he flunked out of school, came home, and was just chilling on their dime. And every time Mom went out, he was hooking up with Tinderellas—gotta give him credit on the rubbers for that, at least—and toking up. She’s just screeching away and he’s all chill like it’s no big deal. When I got everything fixed up right, I walked by with a whole trash bag of condoms and wet papers and he gave me another head nod.” He demonstrates again. “I got my check and told him to only flush toilet paper. Everything else needs to go in the trash can. Pretty sure he was getting whooped up one side and down the other by Miss Priss when I left.” Earl laughs. “People are crazy. Twenty-something-year-old man flushing condoms like he ain’t got no sense.”
He’s sure right. People are crazy.
We all laugh and shake our heads, slightly grossed out.
We finish eating and Mom grabs a cake from the kitchen, setting it in the middle of the table. It’s chocolate icing with chocolate sprinkles.
“Kaede said you like sprinkles so I went a little crazy with them.” She did. The top of the cake is covered with them. A solid layer of sprinkle goodness.
“It looks delicious. Thank you,” Courtney says kindly. She stands up, holding a plate out while Mom cuts a slice and plops it onto the dish. After adding a fork, Courtney passes it to Earl. They do it again for my slice, again for Courtney’s, and once more for Mom’s. I like to see that Courtney jumps right in where she’s needed. She came from money and grew up with a maid and kitchen helper, but she’s not
spoiled in the slightest.
It still makes me shake my head at how fucked up in the head I was over that for so long. The money, the social class, the whole Andrews thing. But I can see now that they never thought of me as less-than, never considered that they were giving me handouts or charity. They’re just truly awesome people who see a need they can help with and step in. No matter what it is.
Even cake.
Courtney takes a bite, not even waiting for Mom when there are sprinkles to be had, and moans in delight. “Ohmagawd, Donna. This is . . . mmm.” Whatever she was going to say around the mouthful of cake turns into a hum of pleasure.
Mom beams, delighted. I think she’s happy to be getting a daughter-in-law, period. But I think she’s truly pleased that it’s Courtney because she can see how happy Court makes me, the same way Earl does for her. We both did well. Even if mine started with some craziness.
“Speaking of cake, have you started on wedding cake options or any of the wedding details yet?” Mom is acting casual, moving a glob of icing around on her plate, but it’s a show. She is over the moon excited and holding herself back from bringing out a Pinterest presentation board. I’m sure of it because I know where I got my planning gene from, and she’s sitting across the table from me.
I take this one, volleying it easily. “We’ve actually talked a lot about the wedding plans. We decided to wait until Ross and Vi have their baby girl—”
Mom interrupts, clapping and grinning. “A girl? I didn’t know that!”
I laugh. “We just found out a few days ago at the gender reveal party. They’re really happy.” I wait a second for her to calm back down and continue, “We’re going to do it at the Andrews Estate. Ross is going to be my best man, and Abi is going to be the maid of honor and do the flowers. And the best part is . . .”
I taper off, ready to toss the bomb my mom won’t see coming, but Courtney jumps in.
“We hired a wedding planner!” she shouts before her hands cover her mouth like she was really trying to let me say it but just couldn’t wait any longer.
“What? I thought you were both these Type-A, perfectionist, control freaks,” Mom says, her brow wrinkled in confusion.
“We are,” Court agrees. “And so busy between the Charlotte gym and my work that we don’t have time to dedicate to the wedding and do it right. And it needs to be right. So we outsourced it to someone whose sole job is to plan weddings. I sent her my Pinterest board, Kaede sent her his, and we sent her the combined one we made. And told her to make it so.”
I grin. it’s another Courtney thing, the Picard-isms. At least she hasn’t told me to ‘engage’ when we’re having sex. Not that it would hold me back from her, but I’d definitely laugh, which might not go over so well. Then again, for such serious folks, we laugh an extraordinary amount of the time.
“No analysis paralysis. No watching and worrying about every single penny. We told the planner what we want, and if there’s a decision to be made, she’ll either make it or present two acceptable choices for us to decide between. It’ll be beautiful, perfect, and low-stress for us, leaving us to focus on other things so we can start right.”
“I think you’re already starting right,” Mom says, her eyes looking glittery.
I take Courtney’s hand, smartly leaving her right hand free to keep eating cake because no one gets between Court and chocolate sprinkles, not even me. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Thanks, Donna,” Courtney says. After a moment, she adds, “Can I take a slice home too?” She turns to me. “Don’t you dare tell Jessica or AJ, though. They’ll make me do extra work. Or Stacylynne. She’ll make me do squat twerks.”
I’m totally going to tell Stacylynne. And do a walk-by on her class to watch my woman drop it like it’s hot.
* * *
Our house.
And it is ours now, with Courtney’s stuff mixed in with my stuff in the closet. Well, maybe not mixed, but sorted and organized. Yes, by ROYGBIV.
It’s our sofa, with too many pillows, and our bed, with a comforter, a folded quilt at the foot, and a throw blanket over that. We don’t use any of them, tossing them back and only covering with the sheet each night as we snuggle into each other for warmth.
And a whole slew of plants scattered about, some by windows and some away from the sun’s direct light, depending on their needs.
But as much as everything here is ours, she is mine.
My Courtney, snuggled into my arms on the couch as I blow softly on her ear to tease and tickle her. She shivers, one of those good warm shivers that lets me know to do it again.
Even after months, I can still melt the Ice Queen with a single touch . . . and I like it. Because she only does that for me. I see the Ice Queen less and less these days, and Courtney tells me that she’s still kicking ass at work, even without the defensive armor. Pretty soon, I think the Ice Queen is going to melt for the last time and just leave Courtney as her true self, the one I’m lucky enough to know.
“Your mom’s so sweet,” Courtney says as we semi-watch TV. “When we were doing dishes, she started back on the ‘Kaede’s the best’ action again. Apparently, she doesn’t realize how deeply and thoroughly I’m in love with you.”
“Deep? And thorough?” I’m not talking about love. I’m thinking much filthier thoughts when Court says things like that.
“Mmmhmm, she asked when we were going to give her a granddaughter too, like Ross and Vi.”
I hiss, banging my head against the arm of the sofa. “Shit. Sorry. I thought she’d at least let us get married before pulling out the big guns again.”
Courtney’s fingers tiptoe across the dragon on my chest. “What do you think about that?”
I look down at her, smiling. “Kids?”
She licks her lips and I realize she’s nervous. I sit up, looking at her more fully, analyzing her. “I think that as much as I think they’re ten-pound bundles of noise and poop right now, as soon as I see Ross and Vi’s daughter, she’s going to have an aunt and uncle who are going to be gaga over her.” She nods, but I’m not done. “And though I think we should wait until after the wedding, I absolutely want to see your belly grow round with our baby, see your brains in our child, and raise a family with you.”
She smiles, snuggling into me again. “Me too. I think we should wait, but in the meantime, we can practice. A lot.”
I growl, jumping up from the couch and pulling her with me. “First one to the bedroom gets to choose who’s on top,” I challenge her, knowing that no matter who gets there first, we both win.
“You’re on.”
Epilogue
Courtney
I swear I’m not spoiled, but there are times when living in a billion-dollar family has its perks. Having one hell of a location for an event is definitely one of them. Whatever time of year, good weather or bad, we can always pull off a formal event like a wedding.
And today’s perfect.
Outside, snow blankets everything, a beautiful white coating that shines and glistens, giving the evening a silent seriousness befitting a wedding. But the chilly cold is held back by the warmth inside.
The great room has been transformed, with Abi’s flowers turning the space into a beautiful paradise of roses in shades of ivory, blush, and creamy white. I did notice, when I did my walkthrough, that Abi added tufts of baby’s breath into the rose arrangements.
Why? Because Abi.
But somehow, that little touch of macabre weird is what makes it even better. A sign from my sister of all the things we’ve gone through together, coming out the other side okay, even closer.
Erica, the wedding planner, bustles around everywhere, taking all the stress off me and happily putting it on her own to-do list. She’s been a godsend, following the guidelines Kaede and I gave her to a T, filling in any gaps without bothering us and ending up with something more stunning than I could’ve ever come up with.
It’s allowed Kaede and me to stay focused, on work and also on our
new niece, Carly. I bounce her in my arms, getting all my snuggles in while I’m still in my robe because once I’m in my wedding gown, it’ll be too risky to hold her. She’s a spit-up champion, somehow finding milk to puke even when she hasn’t eaten in hours, which is why she’s not dressed yet either. For now, she’s in her Aunt Abi-approved rainbow unicorn onesie. Later, she’ll have a cute smocked dress with the rings tied to the ribbons on her chest. It’s Violet’s job to make sure they stay out of her mouth until they’re on mine and Kaede’s fingers.
“She’s going to be stealing hearts in no time. It’s a good thing she’s got us to look out for her,” Abi says, looking over my shoulder and dangling a little toy for the infant to play with. “She’s beautiful.”
“She’s already stealing hearts, and she is,” I agree. “And I think one of us will be the crazy aunt encouraging her to do all kinds of misdeeds. And I’ll be the one lecturing her on a 401(k). Ross will be the true boss keeping tabs on his girl.” We coo and play with Carly’s toes, trying to get her to smile without puking. “Where’s Violet?”
Abi rolls her eyes, pointing with a thumb toward the bathroom. “Guess. She’s still got a bladder the size of a shot glass.”
“Where did she put her bouquet?” I ask, worried Erica will come back and see it out of place. She’s so detail-oriented, she might lose her shit because that’s already checked off the to-do list.
Abi points to the table right next to me.
“Oh. Good.” I breathe again. “Thank you for them too. You outdid yourself because they are gorgeous.”
Abi smiles, but it looks a bit frayed. I know doing the bouquets and centerpieces was a big job for her, not because there are so many but because she put such high expectations on herself to deliver something truly special while still doing all her other client jobs too. But even with that, she’s seemed so stressed lately, even skipping out on the last two yoga dates we made.
My Big Fat Fake Engagement Page 37