“Nope. None whatsoever!” Piper shouts, and the room erupts in laughter.
“And you, Bentley James Sullivan. What the fuck took you so long? Sorry for swearing ladies, but Patty,” I say, looking Ben’s mom directly in the eye, “what’s with your son?”
Patty shrugs but sends a sympathetic look to Laurel, who is laughing and shrugging her shoulders in equal confusion. It’s all in good fun, and they know it. We all do. Yeah, Ben spent years with Laurel when he left for college and the years that followed. But, his heart and his life are with Piper. That was evident the first night he kissed her at the bar without realizing who she was.
“Y’all know I’m teasing. I love you guys and nothing has made all of us happier than watching you find your way to one another. Your love is evident in everything you say and each word you speak. I, for one, hope I give my lady a smidgen of what you give each other. May your days be filled with laughter, your nights filled with passion, and your lives be forever in love. To Ben and Piper!” I raise my beer in toast as everyone clanks glasses and Piper mouths “thank you” and I catch Minnie looking at me through glistening eyes.
I hold Minnie’s gaze for a split second before we both mouth the most important words I’ll ever speak to her, “I love you.”
Another dinner means another set up. My mother is relentless. Of course, I appreciate her efforts. Okay, that’s not true. I don’t appreciate them, I tolerate them. My mother decided four years ago I was wasting time when I should be courting the woman who would call her “mom” and give her grandchildren. I have explained that courting is now referred to as dating, which I do, and there’s no timetable for having children. Hugh Hefner anyone? My mom was less than thrilled with that comparison.
She also does not appreciate when I point out she already has four grandchildren, thanks to my sister and brother. Well, she’ll have six when my brother remarries next year. Wyatt married young, had two kids, and was divorced by the time he was twenty-five. He knew, as we all did, he shouldn’t have married Michelle. It’s not that Michelle is a bad person, in fact, she’s a really good person and a wonderful mother. They realized after a few years of marriage, the highs of a twenty-something love didn’t have the longevity needed to sustain their relationship and parted amicably as friends. Michelle remarried a few years ago, and Wyatt met Raquel later that same year.
So, while my mother is determined to marry me, the baby of the family, off, she’s not without the large family and loving grandchildren she’s always hoped for.
“Landon, you could have worn a tie for dinner.” Ah, the tie talk. This means, my mother believes the girl she’s attempting to fix me up with is “the one.” At least every three months or so I receive this lecture. I’m perfectly happy in my shorts and collared shirt and, if by some odd occurrence, my mother was to find my soul mate, she’ll like me just the way I am.
“I could have but I’ll be in suits and ties next weekend. I wanted a break. My neck needed a break,” I tease my mom. She swats me with a towel while smiling.
“Ah, yes. The wedding. How is that going? Your gift?”
“The gift is about done. As for the wedding, all is well as far as I know. I think we’re all just taking our orders in stride and know our primary goal is to show up, be dressed appropriately, and on time. Oh, and to not forget the groom. We can handle that.”
I watch as my mom moves around the kitchen. Her movements are seamless. Grabbing a dishtowel, I watch as she wipes up a small spill before tossing the towel over her shoulder, all while chattering on about Mary or Jane, or whoever the poor girl is she’s promised I’m thrilled to see tonight at dinner. My mom pauses long enough to remove one of her famous apple pies from the oven. The moment she sets the dish on a rack to cool, my dad walks into the room. He rolls his eyes at my mom and then smiles at me. Motioning toward the back door with his chin I nod and kiss my mom on the cheek before walking to the door.
“Oh, yeah. Run away. I swear you men are a pain in my ass. Go do whatever it is you do and I’ll call you when Daria arrives.”
“Daria?”
“Yes, the nice girl from church I invited. She’s a little quiet but sweet. I’ve just spent the last five minutes talking about her. Seriously, Landon, it’s no wonder you’re still single. Selective hearing. Oh,” she says, clapping her hands, “maybe she can be your plus one for the wedding.”
I don’t bother responding to my mom and lead my dad out of the house. We walk in silence toward my old workshop on their property. I bought a house last month and moved my shop into my garage. It’s not the same as the space I’ve called my own since I was a kid, but it’s more mine than this ever was. Regardless, nostalgia hits me in the gut the moment we pull open the door. Memories of all the pieces I’ve completed here roll like a movie in my head.
“Don’t worry,” my dad begins, “we aren’t planning anything with your shop. I’ll admit, I’m a bit sad to see it go.”
“It’s not gone, it’s relocated. I had to move it eventually.”
Dad sighs and pulls a beer from the mini fridge I kept in the corner next to a couch I’ve spent more nights on than I’d care to admit. That couch is uncomfortable and in the dead of winter as freezing as cold as it is hot in the summer. Damn fake leather.
“I know, son. I just miss having you around here all the time. Plus, it was kind of nice being in on the projects you were working on when nobody else was.”
“You’re welcome to come to my house anytime, Pop.” I toast my dad before taking a swig from beer. We stand in silence for a few minutes before he clears his throat.
“So, this matchmaking your mother is hell-bent on. What are you thinking about that?”
“I’m thinking she’s wasting her time. I’m not interested in a relationship right now. I just bought my house. I have commitments on art pieces and that big furniture project Mrs. Teller hired me for. My free time is limited.”
“You should consider getting some help. Maybe find a kid you can mentor or something,” Dad suggests.
“That’s a good idea.”
“Don’t sound so surprised. I have them from time to time,” Dad teases.
Over the next twenty minutes we talk about the projects I’m working on, including Ben and Piper’s wedding gift. When I started working with wood, it was because I was determined to master what I couldn’t finish in woodshop class. I’ll never forget the look on my mom’s face when she opened the wooden jewelry box I’d crafted for her. After she took it with her everywhere to brag about how talented I was, the requests from aunts and the ladies at church started. It wasn’t until I found an old piece of barn wood and started messing with it that my love of creating original artwork surfaced. Most people saw the wood as trash but I saw it as, well . . . treasure. In each grain is a story. History. I love taking that and reclaiming it into something beautiful. At least what I feel is beautiful.
I am also very secretive about my projects. My mom says I have an artist’s heart because I rarely share my work in progress with anyone and some have taken me up to a year to complete. I work at my pace and with what I feel. I never have a plan, but I try to give the client, or recipient, a piece that reflects them in some way.
The piece I started for Ben and Piper has taken me most of this year to complete. It’s been sort of like their relationship. Like them keeping their feelings a secret for months, I kept the project a secret. The only reason Owen knew about it was because I needed help moving it one day, and I threatened to never let him have one of my mom’s pies again if he told. When they chose their wedding date, I let the cat out of the bag so to speak. I knew Piper was determined to have the wedding at their house, come hell or high water, and the first thing that had to happen was finishing their fixer upper. I wanted to make sure she left space for my gift. So, I only gave her dimensions. She’s had a blank wall in their house ever since.
“Well, son, it’s about time we face the music. I hear the gravel and that means your one true love
has arrived.”
I snort in response. Love is the furthest thing on my mind. Hell, a relationship of any kind is. My first priority is getting through this wedding and then it’s getting a handle on maintaining a house and my side business. Looks like I will be hiring a helper sooner than later if I have any hope of doing all of this and not losing my sanity.
Daria was not my one true love. Poor thing had my mom fooled and, as much as I appreciated the effort to impress my parents, it was clear the moment she stepped out of her bright yellow sports car, Daria was not the sweet innocent young lady my mother thought she was. No, Daria was far from that.
Sure, she was nice enough. And the way she presented herself, she had . . . a lot to offer a guy. If I was interested. I wasn’t. I may not be looking for a relationship but I do know obvious come-ons and a woman who displays her assets for all to see is not what I’m looking for when the time does come. My mom was startled when Daria walked in wearing a skin-tight leopard print dress with four-inch stilettos. Her breasts were pushed up in what I only assume was some sort of animal print bra and to match her almost exposed panties. My dad almost couldn’t contain his laughter when my mom struggled to maintain eye contact. I get it, each time Daria reached for one of the plates of food on the table, there was a chance she’d pop right out of the top of her dress.
Daria explained that she was visiting her aunt for a few weeks while she worked out some personal problems. Her aunt demanded she dress demurely when attending Sunday services, but she hated the long skirt and high collared top she had to wear. She proceeded to explain that was why she’d worn the same outfit two weeks in a row. I guess my mom assumed she was just frugal and only had one church outfit. My poor mom. By the time she was getting dessert ready, I’d already had my thigh squeezed twice and Daria’s phone number tucked in my pocket. I begged out of apple pie and ice cream, leaving my poor parents to let Daria down for me. It’s the least they could do after the way she tried to stroke more than my ego under the table.
Tonight, I put the final touches on Ben and Piper’s gift and made a list of duties for a helper, or apprentice as Minnie, Owen’s girlfriend, called the position. She said if I call the kid, I assume it’ll be a kid, an apprentice I could get away not paying someone. That seems kind of shitty. So, while I’ll use the title of “apprentice” because it’s better than “do the grunt work,” I’ll still pay whoever I find a little something. I only hope I can find someone that knows how to use my tools or, at the very least, picks up on the stuff quickly.
Once I’ve closed my shop, formerly known as my garage, I head into the house for a shower and a good night’s sleep. I’m just about to hop in the shower when my phone signals a text message from my brother.
Wyatt: I heard Mom’s latest fix up was a bust.
Wyatt: Literally.
Me: Haha. You’re a comedian now?
Wyatt: Don’t be a baby
Me: When will she stop? You never dealt with this
Wyatt: Nah, by the time I was your age I was knee deep in regret and debt. She gave me a pass
Me: Yeah well, this bites. I don’t know what her rush is
Wyatt: You’re her “baby boy” she wants to see you taken care of.
Me: Yeah well, she may be waiting a while. I don’t see it happening anytime soon.
Wyatt: That’s when it happens little bro. When you least expect it.
Me: Whatever. I need to shower
Wyatt: Raquel said she needs to talk to you about a project. I told her to back off.
Me: It’s fine. We’ll talk. Not til after this wedding.
Wyatt: Sounds good. Take care, bro. Talk later.
Just thinking of the wedding has my anxiety up. I hate dressing up, and now Piper’s decided the groomsmen need to give a speech or some shit at the rehearsal. I still don’t understand what we’re rehearsing. We greet people, we seat them, we walk down the aisle, we get drunk. Seems simple to me. But tomorrow night we’ll be gathering at Ben’s parents’ for a rehearsal and then Owen and I get to give a speech. Fabulous. Thankfully I’m good at improv and can usually get the crowd laughing. Keep them laughing, keep it simple, and whatever I do, talk about how pretty Piper is and what a dumbass Ben is, and I’ve got it in the bag.
I laugh to myself as I quickly shower off my day and my work in the shop. The sawdust from my shop swirls around the drain as I rinse off the soap and hang my head, allowing the water to pound on my neck. It’s times like this I wish I had a woman to cuddle up to. To talk about my day and what’s happening tomorrow. To ease the stress of giving a speech. Some nights, the single life sucks.
Okay, most nights the single life sucks. If someone came along and caught my attention I wouldn’t turn down the opportunity, but I’m not sure how I’d meet a woman these days. All my friends are happily in relationships, and my work keeps me busy. Unless there’s some sort of divine intervention, I don’t see how I’m going to ever meet someone.
Owen is a shit. He just brought the house down with his speech. His heartfelt and emotional words, clearly Minnie helped him write the speech regardless of what he said, made my “Ben, you’re a lucky bastard and better not screw this up” speech sound like child’s play. I’ll kick his ass later.
The evening has been fun and low key just like Ben and Piper. If you had told me a year ago we’d be sitting here at their rehearsal dinner with Ben’s ex-girlfriend as the wedding coordinator, I’d have told you to share what you’re smoking because that’s some good shit. Not that Ben and, excuse me, “Biper” as Ashton is requiring us to call them, being together is a surprise. The reality is, there is no person better for the other than Ben and Piper are for each other. They make being together seem, well . . . seamless. If I’m lucky enough to have even ten percent of what they have, I’ll be a lucky guy.
One day.
I walk to the makeshift bar and grab a cold beer before turning to observe my friends. Ben, Jameson, Owen, and I have been best friends most of our lives. The years after Ben moved away for college we didn’t talk as much, but it never meant they weren’t still my brothers. When he moved back last year, we picked up where we left off in high school. I’ve watched each of us change over the years, but the one thing that has remained the same is our bond. Today, watching each of them with the women who have chosen to put up with their crap, makes me happy for them. I tease, because I can. They’re all good guys, the best, and they’re damn lucky to have found love with three women who challenge and support them endlessly.
It’s a great choice. For them. It’s not where I am in life. While they all make it seem easy and natural, I don’t understand how anyone has the time it takes to have a relationship on top of everything else they have going on.
From what I’ve observed over the years, relationships take a lot of work and patience. I’m a patient guy, but I think I’d prefer a relationship I didn’t have to work on. I’d like a relationship that is natural and easy. Until the relationship gods create that version, I’m not interested in anything remotely close to commitment.
I’ve been lying here for at least an hour. My bladder is about to burst, and yet I don’t move. Sure, Ashton’s arm across my chest is preventing much give for me to slide out of bed but, I also don’t want to move. The moment I get out of this bed and start moving around, the sooner this day begins. And ends. I don’t want it to end. If this day could go on forever that would make me happy.
Today is my wedding day. Today is the day my five-year-old self’s dreams come true. In approximately twelve hours, I will exchange wedding vows with the man I have loved since he was a boy helping me out of the sand after I fell from the swings. Yep, at the end of this day, I will be Mrs. Bentley James Sullivan. I’m so damn excited I can hardly contain myself. And I’m determined to savor and enjoy each moment.
I think back over the last year with Ben. So many wasted moments because I was too afraid I’d lose my best friend, his sister, Ashton. I flash to a memory of each time Ben tried to
convince me otherwise. Each time he showered me with love and affection and I chose to run. To run from him and my feelings. My fear almost caused me to miss out on the greatest love of my life. Why? Because I didn’t think I was worth it. And dammit, I am. I’ll be forever grateful Ben believed in us enough to wait for me to get my head out of my ass.
Damn my bladder and its inability to hold off just a little longer. Nope, the time is now. I’ve pushed myself almost to the “emergency” part of waiting to pee. Which also means it’s time for me to attempt to untangle myself from Ashton’s hold. I reach my hand out, stretching as far as I can to grab my phone. With my fingertips only, I successfully slide my phone toward me and tap the screen to check the time. You’ve got to be kidding me. It’s more last night than it is this morning.
Okay, that’s an exaggeration but still. It’s far too early. Sighing, I realize sleep will not come again. Also, there’s the whole bladder situation, and unless I want to wake Ashton because she’s lying in a puddle, I need to get moving. Quickly. Oh boy, yeah, I should’ve done this twenty minutes ago. When did my best friend become such a bed hog?
I manage to shimmy myself to the edge of the bed and out from under Ashton’s arm with minimal disturbance. Once I’ve used the restroom and brushed my teeth, I pull on a sweater Ashton has hanging over the back of a chair. It’s fall in Lexington, and the mornings are chilly, a hint of the pending winter in the air. I walk out of the room, quietly closing the door behind me; there’s no reason for all of us to be up yet. As I pass the guest room, I stop to listen at the door for any movement from Minnie, our friend and my bridesmaid. When I don’t hear anything, I continue to the kitchen.
Champagne & Forever Page 7