by L. A. Witt
Phil stiffened, watching his wife uneasily.
Darren’s eyes darted back and forth between Marcy and me. “What?”
I sighed. “Awkward moment in three . . . two . . .” I turned right as my mother appeared beside me. “Hi, Mom.” I smiled despite my apprehension and hugged her.
She hugged me stiffly like she always did, and as she let me go, she turned to Darren. Looking him up and down, pausing only briefly on his black eye, she offered a tight smile. Then she peered at me and gave me a similar down-up. “You two are wearing tuxedos at your wedding, aren’t you?” Her tone made the underlying message abundantly clear—Please tell me you aren’t wearing this shit.
Darren shifted self-consciously, looking down at his suit and smoothing the jacket as if he were trying to figure out what was wrong with it.
I cleared my throat and gestured past her. “Mom, you remember Marcy.”
Marcy shot me a venomous glare, but quickly schooled her expression to something more neutral as my mother turned to her. They held each other’s gazes, bringing the temperature in the room down about twenty degrees.
My mother lifted her chin and narrowed her eyes. “Marcella.”
“Louise.” Marcy’s voice was cool, but that note of hostility was only detectable if you knew what to listen for. I sure as hell did. Judging by the way Mom’s lips tightened, she did too. Marcy eyed me again, then gestured at Phil. “Louise, I’d like you to meet my husband, Phil.”
The air turned even colder. Phil and my mother shook hands, but there was hardly any warmth in the greeting. While they did that, Marcy met my gaze, brow pinched and eyes wide, the unspoken question coming through loud and clear—Can I bow the fuck out of this conversation?
I nodded as subtly as I could.
Marcy barely kept her relief under the surface as she slid a hand around her husband’s elbow. “Well, we’re going to go mingle a little.” And with that, they were gone.
My mother watched them go before shifting her narrow-eyed gaze to me. “I wasn’t expecting to see her.”
I gritted my teeth. “Why wouldn’t I invite her?”
She glared at me like the answer should have been obvious. “Did you invite her to the wedding?”
“Of course.”
And there it was—the long-suffering sigh of disapproval. “It’s inappropriate to bring your ex-wife to your wedding, Andreas.”
I didn’t bother fighting the urge to roll my eyes. “She’s the mother of my kids. She’ll be there, and so will Lisa.”
Mom’s nose wrinkled at the mention of my ex-girlfriend.
“Mom,” I warned.
She huffed but didn’t push. “Well, I’m going to go find your father.” She looked around. “Where did he wander off to?”
“I think he’s over by the bar,” Darren offered, voice soft and uncertain.
She craned her neck, then pursed her lips. With a curt nod to us, she left.
Darren exhaled, deflating. I hadn’t realized how tense he’d been until he relaxed.
Resting my hand on the small of his back, I kissed his cheek. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay.” He looked down at himself. “Is there something wrong with my suit?”
I nuzzled the side of his face. “Only that it’s not rumpled on our bedroom floor.”
That brought him back to life, and he leaned into me, wrapping his arm around my waist. “Hey, I told you we could’ve skipped the party and done dirty things instead, but nooo . . .”
“Shut up.” I chuckled and kissed his cheek again. “I’ll make it up to you when we get home.”
“Damn right you will,” he said in a playful growl. “So, should we keep mingling before I drag you into the coat closet?”
I hesitated, weighing the options.
Darren gave me a nudge. “Come on, you.”
We wandered the party, getting hugged and congratulated by dozens of people in turn. I had no idea how the guest list had gotten this big, but somehow there must’ve been at least a hundred people here. Mostly other cops and some friends, but also some family. My parents had flown in, and my kids and ex-wife had taken the train, but the rest of the guests were local. Last I’d heard, the guest list for the wedding was even bigger, with people coming in from God knew where. Because that thought wasn’t overwhelming as fuck, especially when I was standing in a room that already seemed claustrophobic and crowded with fewer people than would be at the big event.
I shrugged away the tension and reminded myself I could handle one night of being social. These people were all here because they loved and supported us. That or they’d heard about the open bar. Either way, the least I could do was not be my usual antisocial self.
Darren and I ended up wandering off in different directions. I wasn’t even sure when it had happened, only that I looked around at one point and realized we were on opposite sides of the room. Presumably, some group conversation had broken off into two separate ones, and we’d lost track of each other.
I was okay with that, though. We didn’t need to be hanging off each other’s arms all night. I would’ve liked to, of course—I nearly always preferred being with Darren—but we weren’t joined at the hip.
On my way to the bar for a bottle of water, I ran into Erin.
“Hey, kiddo.” I smiled. “How are you going?”
“Okay.” She smiled back, but it wavered a little. “Trying to run interference when Grandma starts being . . . Grandma.”
I groaned. “Tell me she isn’t going too crazy.”
“She was on her third cosmopolitan last I saw her, so . . .”
“Oh God.”
Erin laughed half-heartedly, and for the first time, I realized how tired she seemed. No. Not tired. Just . . . not here. Like her heart wasn’t in it and her mind was a million miles away.
“Hey.” I touched her shoulder. “Everything okay?”
Dropping her gaze, she nodded. “Yeah.”
Yeah, bullshit. “How are things with Zach?”
She scowled, eyes flicking toward her boyfriend, who was at a table entertaining Emily. Then her expression softened, and she waved a hand. “We’ll be okay. It’s just . . . you know, a rough patch. We’re working on it.” She smiled. “Just growing pains. That’s all.”
Well, that was a relief. “Good. Glad to hear it.” I hoped they worked it out. And if they couldn’t, I hoped they were both smart enough to walk away before they wasted too much time and energy trying to stay together. Marcy and I had tried to instill that in the kids when we’d split up—that it was better to let things go rather than force it until you hated each other.
We chatted for a few minutes, and then I continued toward the bar for that water while she joined Zach and Emily. A glance around confirmed what she’d mentioned about my mother. The cosmopolitan in her hand was nearly empty, but had enough liquid to slosh over the rim when she made a sharp gesture.
I swore under my breath. Just what I needed. We butted heads when she was sober. When she was drunk? Fuck my life.
I got my water and started heading toward her, but crossing the room with any kind of goal in mind was easier said than done. Every time I turned around, there was someone new wanting to offer congratulations and talk to me. It was overwhelming. Usually I didn’t have to worry about people approaching me constantly—they sure as hell didn’t at work—but tonight, it was one after another.
So, I gave up on trying to cut off my mother. My dad was with her, and he’d only put up with her antics for so long before quietly putting his foot down. They were adults. They could handle themselves.
Ironically, as I continued through the crowd, the one person I wanted to get near—and couldn’t—was my fiancé. I was being bombarded with people, to the point my skin was crawling and I desperately needed to escape the mob of friends and family, but at the same time, I wanted to be close to him. Without him, I was alone in a crowded room, overwhelmed by voices and faces and one hug after another when all I wante
d was Darren.
I finally had a moment to myself, and I searched for Darren again. When I found him, though, my heart sank. He was by the bar, rubbing his face—and carefully avoiding his black eye—as he cradled a mostly empty wineglass in his other hand. His shoulders were heavy under his unbuttoned jacket. Fatigue radiated off him.
I started toward him, but a couple of colleagues headed me off. Before I could gracefully exit that conversation, someone descended on Darren. He was visibly trying to hide his exhaustion, smiling while he talked, but I could tell he was worn down. Darren was hardly a wallflower, and he didn’t have a shy bone in his body, but the constant socializing tonight was clearly taking a toll on him.
And this is just the engagement party. How the hell are either of us going to get through the wedding and reception without collapsing?
That thought made my own exhaustion even heavier. I was looking forward to being married to Darren. More and more, I wasn’t sure I was looking forward to the getting married part. The credit card balances would probably be the least painful part of the entire thing, and that was saying something.
My future mother-in-law appeared next to me. “How are you doing, sweetheart? You look tired.”
There was no point in trying to convince Jessica Corliss that I wasn’t, so I just nodded. “Yeah. It’s been a crazy night.”
Sympathy creased her brow. “Well, at least you’ll both have a couple of days off from work before the wedding and rehearsal.”
Rehearsal. Christ. There was another step, wasn’t there?
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “At this rate, we’ll probably cancel our honeymoon trip and just stay home and sleep.”
She laughed softly. “Getting married isn’t for the faint of heart, is it?”
“No, ma’am.”
She studied me for a moment. “Honey, tell me something truthfully.”
Uh-oh. I raised my eyebrows, but said nothing.
Jessica tilted her head. “The wedding we’ve been planning—is that going to be too much?”
“No, we can afford it.”
“No, I mean . . . too much. For you.” She gestured at the throngs of people. “It’s going to be much bigger and crazier than this.”
I almost let a groan slip out, but caught myself. I knew how much this wedding meant to Jessica. “It’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
No. Not even a little.
I nodded.
“Okay. Well.” Jessica squeezed my arm. “Just remember your wedding is about the two of you. Don’t let anyone else make it about them.”
I nodded again, forcing a smile. “I know. Thanks.”
She went off to mingle some more, leaving me with my half-empty water bottle. I searched the room for Darren again. I found him, but he had his back to me, and seemed to be lost in conversation with some friends. He still looked tired, but was holding himself straight and speaking as animatedly as he usually did, so I hoped that meant he was doing all right. And as much as I wanted to go to him, the thought of being introduced to anyone else right now made my stomach twist. I needed a moment to catch my breath.
The restaurant had a patio outside, and there’d been a light rain earlier, so no one was out there. Perfect. It was cool and quiet, and it was only when I stepped out here that I realized how loud the party had become. Over the last couple of hours, the murmur of conversation had become a roar, drowning out the music and leaving my ears ringing.
I put my water bottle aside, rested my hands on the damp concrete railing, closed my eyes, and exhaled into the cool night.
This was supposed to be a party. One to celebrate my engagement to the most amazing man I’d ever met. So why the hell did I feel like shit?
Well, that was easy to answer. My mother had been striking sparks off everyone from my ex-wife to my future mother-in-law even before she’d started hitting the bar. Darren was so stressed I swore I could see his hair turning gray. Erin was exhausted from the tension with her boyfriend and running interference between Grandma and . . . well, everyone.
And me? I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been fraying like this. Okay, maybe that wasn’t accurate. It was a familiar feeling, but usually it had to do with a case. With racing the clock to stop someone from getting away with a crime or committing another one. Our job brought with it a certain level of anxiety, and I accepted that.
What I struggled to accept was feeling the same way about my wedding as I did about chasing down a bloodthirsty murderer before he killed someone else.
The stress had been kind of amusing early on, but the novelty had worn off. Seeing Darren tearing his hair out over wedding details had been cute in the beginning. Now, it just made me feel guilty. Guilty, and like it was only a matter of time before he started resenting me for asking him to marry me in the first place. For putting him in the crosshairs of my impossible-to-please mother who could—and would—always find something to criticize. I wasn’t an easy person to live with. Who was I to ask Darren to go through all this shit just for the dubious honor of being married to me?
The distinct click-tap of dress shoes behind me raised the hairs on my neck. I gritted my teeth. God. Now what?
“There you are.”
All the air rushed out of my lungs. I couldn’t say Darren’s voice broke the tension in my neck and shoulders and mind. Rather, he spoke, and the tension was just . . . gone. Like it had never been there at all.
Smiling, I turned around. For a second, there was only a silhouette. He was backlit by the restaurant’s warm light, and with one more step, he slipped out of the shadows and into view. Concern was etched all over his tired face. “You okay?”
I cupped his face. “I am now.” And I kissed him. It went on for a while, but it wasn’t the kind of kiss that would have us dragging each other someplace private for a quickie. Just a long, gentle kiss that reminded me why we were subjecting ourselves to all of this stress in the first place—because we loved each other. Because we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together. Because nothing—not wild horses and not my mother’s presence—could make me think twice about going through whatever was necessary to be Darren’s husband.
I broke the kiss and touched my forehead to his, basking in this peaceful moment with him—with only him—before we had to go back to the party.
I stared into his eyes. Up close, the exhaustion in his face and his posture were undeniable, and I knew damn well it wasn’t just because we’d been working ourselves into the ground lately. As haggard as he was these days, and especially with that shiner still darkening one side of his face, he was eerily reminiscent of how he’d looked while recovering from his stab wounds.
I shuddered.
“Cold?” he asked.
“No. Just thinking.”
“What about?”
I studied him again, wondering how much to reveal. Part of me wanted to suggest we blow off this party and go someplace we could be alone. Tempting, but . . . we couldn’t do that.
So I just clasped his hands in both of mine and kissed his fingers. “I love you, Darren.”
“I love you too.” He pulled me in close and nuzzled my neck. “I guess we should get back to our adoring fans.”
Closing my eyes, I pressed a kiss to the top of his head. I would have liked to stay out here all night with him and the cool air, but he was right. “Yeah. We should.”
He didn’t move, though. Neither did I.
After a moment, he lifted his head and kissed under my jaw. “They won’t miss us if we stay out here another minute or two, will they?”
“No, I don’t—”
“There you guys are!” The wedding planner burst out onto the patio, grinning. “Come on back inside. We’ve got a few people who want to make toasts.”
I’d been pretty good all night about not groaning out loud, but I failed this time.
Darren laughed. “Come on. We can do this.” He drew back, leaving my body cool where he’d been pressed against
me, and took my hand. “Let’s go.”
As much as I wanted to stay out here, the little smile on his lips and the way his thumb ran alongside mine . . . Oh hell. I couldn’t say no.
“Okay.” I squeezed his hand. “Let’s go.”
The simple fact that I woke up the next morning before the alarm went off, with a headache but no dry mouth, told me I hadn’t consumed nearly enough alcohol last night. My mom had gotten one thing right: I wouldn’t have wanted to wait to meet Andreas’s parents until just before the wedding. But honestly, there came a point where it was easier to run away and talk to other people than to endure one more steely-eyed glare from over the edge of a martini glass.
What was her problem with me? Other than the fact that I was younger than her son by over a decade and the wrong gender to give her any more grandchildren, at least. From what Marcy had said, Louise hadn’t been all that excited about any of her and Andreas’s kids until they’d actually arrived, calling the pair of them “too young to be good parents.” And that didn’t even count how she felt about Emily arriving out of wedlock, although it was clear she loved her now.
Well. Whatever. One more event to get through with them, and then we could kiss my future in-laws goodbye for a few months. All we had to do now was go to brunch, after which Andreas’s mother would head to the airport and fly away. Possibly on a broomstick.
Be nice, I reminded myself as I headed for the shower. Andreas was still sleeping, and seeing as how he’d taken the brunt of his mother’s disapproval last night, I wasn’t about to wake him any earlier than I had to. Even though I would have loved to drag him into the shower with me, finger him until he came, and then put him on his knees so he could suck me off.
Fuck. Why wasn’t I doing that again?
Because you’re a damn adult who knows how to prioritize, I reminded myself as I turned on the water and stepped under the spray. I was hard—just thinking about what I wanted to do with Andreas always got me hard—but I could handle it. He needed the sleep more than I needed his hot, wet mouth around my dick, taking me all the way to the back of his throat while he looked up at me with those sinful blue eyes . . .