Take It Off the Menu

by Hovland, Christina

  His decision to break up.

  The pull of gravity seemed stronger than it had thirty seconds before. Oh God. They were really over. All her limbs doubled in weight. She gripped the railing, hefting herself up the beige carpeting of the staircase. There wasn’t time for a breakdown. There were calls to make. Hurrying to the bedroom, she closed and locked the door.

  “This is fine. Everything is fine,” she said to Lothario. “We’re going to stay at a hotel for a little while. Just until we figure everything out.”

  She grabbed her cell from her nightstand. Her father had called twice. She ignored his voicemails. “Hey, Siri, call Sadie.”

  Marlee fell to the edge of the bed, tucking her feet under herself. Sadie, former maid of honor, picked up on the second ring. “Soon you’ll be Mrs.—”

  “I’m not getting married. Scotty called it off and I’m about twenty minutes from a full-blown meltdown, so if you could come help me pack a few bags, that would be amazing.” The words spilled from her lips.

  “Uh,” Sadie said. Shocked Sadie’s silence filled the line.

  “Sadie?” Marlee finally asked.

  “Coming,” Sadie said. “I’m coming. Literally calling a car right now.”

  “’kay.” Marlee hung up the phone without saying anything else because she was afraid of what she’d say if she kept talking. She pressed her forehead to the phone screen. She needed a list. Lists were good for the times when a fiancé called off a wedding with less than two days to go. Yes, she’d make a list right after she got her bags together.

  She pulled out the suitcases she’d been packing for their honeymoon and dumped the contents of each on the bedspread. There wouldn’t be a honeymoon now. No need for swimsuits and summer wraps for an autumn in Denver. Hurrying to the closet, she started pulling clothes from hangers and tossing them into a suitcase.

  She should fold them.

  There wasn’t time to fold them.

  She needed to get everything together. Then she needed to call Aspen, her wedding planner, so she could start the cancellation calls. That should happen first. Cell in hand, Marlee pulled up Aspen’s number. She tried to force her fingers to tap on the phone number, her gaze catching the diamond engagement ring Scotty had slipped on to her left hand.

  She couldn’t bring herself to make the call. This was ridiculous. Yes, she was sad Scotty had called things off. Yes, she was disappointed in his timing. But no, this would not wreck her.

  Still, she couldn’t bring herself to make the call.

  She pulled off the ring, dropping it on the nightstand. Then she pressed the message button and tapped out a note to Aspen. Wedding not happening. Need to cancel everything. Call Scotty, he can handle this. He broke it off.

  There. That was better. Scotty could deal with the aftermath.

  Since he loved her more and all that.

  The garage underneath her bedroom opened. She moved to the window. Scotty backed out of the driveway in his black Sport BMW.

  She did the cheek thing again, blowing out air through her lips.

  Her phone pinged with a response, but she didn’t read it. She held the off button until the screen went black. Then she shoved clothes into her suitcases. Sadie would be here in just a little bit and she only had to hold out until then.

  Clearing her mind while she packed, she did her best to ignore thoughts of anything other than the task in front of her.

  “Marlee?” Sadie’s voice carried through the foyer and up the stairs to the master bedroom. Lothario yipped and jumped from the bed, limping through the doorway on his tripod legs.

  “Up here.” Marlee’s voice cracked on the last word. Unacceptable. She coughed. “Here. I’m in the bedroom.”

  “I brought help,” Sadie hollered.

  Marlee met her at the doorway.

  Sadie wrapped her in a hug. “I brought Eli to kill Scotty for you, but we passed him on the street. Eli will be lifting all the heavy things instead.”

  Marlee looked over Sadie’s shoulder to where Sadie’s brother, Eli, stood on the top stair. His talent as a chef would now be wasted since he wouldn’t be catering the wedding anymore.

  “Hey, Mar.” He said her nickname so softly it hardly seemed fitting coming from a guy who looked like he had driven there from a UFC fight. A cross between Joe Manganiello and Jason Mamoa, Eli had the tall, dark, and scary-as-hell bit down. The scary-as-hell bit was only to those who didn’t know him. Everyone who really knew him knew he was all pudding and marshmallow fluff inside.

  “I’m here to lug suitcases and crack skulls, whatever you need,” he said.

  “Thanks.” She cleared the emotion that was starting to lodge in her throat. No emotions. Scotty didn’t deserve them.

  “You’re on Marlee duty.” Sadie released Marlee from her hug and shoved her toward Eli. “I’m on getting-everything-sorted duty. Becca and Kellie are on their way.”

  Eli pulled Marlee in for a hug and…well…this was nice. She had her friends, she’d be fine. So why were her eyes leaking all over Eli’s gray tee? She started to pull back, a hiccup wrestling its way out. She’d left tear-stained mascara smudges all over his shoulder.

  There was no reason to cry. She was practically already over Scotty. He’d done her a favor.

  “Hey.” Eli’s thumbs wiped her tears from her cheeks. “Let’s let Sadie deal with the packing. Aspen already called to cancel everything, so she’s got that covered.”

  “I need a place to live for a while.” Marlee swallowed another hiccup before it could escape. “I was thinking a hotel. And I’d like to get out of here before my parents show up. Dad will talk about what a great guy Scotty is, and Mom will make the breakup all about herself.”

  Her parents meant well, but they were nothing if not predictable.

  “Why are you the one leaving?” Eli asked, his thumbs resting on both sides of her cheeks.

  “Because I know he won’t.” And when was the last time Scotty had comforted her when she was upset?

  “Then we’ll start with finding the hotel.” Eli pulled her in for another hug. “And evacuate to it after.”

  She nodded. This was good. Sadie and Eli had a plan. They’d probably even written it down somewhere. The release of years of wedding planning, the official death of her relationship with Scotty—it had all just bubbled up in her chest and flowed out of her eyelids. That’s all.

  She wiped at her cheeks with the backs of her hands. “I’m a mess.”

  “You’re practically part of the family. We’re here for you,” Eli whispered against the top of her hair. Then he let her cry all over his shoulder. He didn’t even balk when she snorted. Somehow, he managed to produce a handful of tissues she could only believe Sadie had slipped to him.

  He shifted, readjusting her in his embrace. One thing Marlee had never noticed about Eli before was how really nice he smelled. Not cologne, per se. That morning, he smelled like pancakes and bacon and man. Eli shifted again.

  “Were you working this morning?” she asked.

  “Yeah, we catered a thing before Sadie caught me.” His voice was comforting, warm syrup over pancakes.

  “You smell really nice,” she said through a sniffle. “Like breakfast.”

  He shifted again.

  “Sorry.” She pulled back. “I’m making you uncomfortable.” Probably because she was smelling him up.

  “It’s not you.” He rubbed the spot between her shoulder blades with his palm. “But what do I need to do to get your dog to stop humping my shoe?”

  She looked down and, sure enough, Lothario was going to town on one of Eli’s trainers.

  “Shit.” She leaned down and lifted the pup. “This is Lothario.”

  “We’ve met.” Eli nodded toward her lecherous dog. “Nice to put a name to the feeling in my toes.”

  “I’ll just…uh…I’ll just put him outside.” Squirming dog in hand, she hurried down the stairs and dropped him off on the patio. She pointed at him. “Stay.”
r />   He whined.

  “And no humping Eli,” she continued.

  “Listen to your mom, kid,” Eli said from behind her.

  She closed the door. “Can I get you coffee? Tea?” Deep breaths, Marlee. “Vodka?”

  “Tell you what, you grab a cup of whatever you’d like, and I’ll start looking for a hotel.”

  Everything was going to be fine.

  No wedding. No fiancé. But things would be fine.

  Just. Fine.

  Chapter Two

  There was not a single vacant hotel room in Denver. Eli hung up the phone after talking to the front desk clerk of yet another downtown hotel. The online booking companies had nothing, but he’d hoped if he called around, something would maybe pop up.

  No, a huge outdoors show had booked everything east of Breckenridge. The block of rooms Marlee had reserved for wedding guests was totally filled.

  He glanced to the former bride-to-be perched on the other side of the sofa with her notepad. She was, apparently, a quick crier. On it and then over it. Sadie was packing. He made calls and Marlee made lists.

  “We’re here,” Becca called from the front door.

  Kellie followed her into the living room with an armful of collapsed cardboard boxes and packing tape. She gasped. “Eli’s here.”

  “If it’s Eli serious, it’s worse than I thought.” Becca helped Kellie get more boxes through the doorway.

  Yes, Eli was there. He’d spent a good part of his senior year of high school playing referee as these girls navigated their freshman year. They officially made up the rest of Sadie’s girl posse, and they’d all moved away from Denver. Marlee was the only one who had stuck around. They were back for the now-not-happening wedding.

  He might grump about them suffocating him, but deep down, he actually did enjoy having them around. Most of the time. Especially now that he wasn’t personally responsible for their well-being.

  “Hey.” Marlee padded over to them and did the thing where they hugged and commiserated on what assholes men could be. Frankly, he could relate. Men really could be assholes. Scotty was a perfect example. What kind of a dick called off a wedding with two days to go? Not that Eli had his sights on marriage—hell no—he was perfectly content looking out for number one and number one alone. That was a lesson he’d learned long before he even graduated high school. But once Scotty had slid that ring on Marlee’s finger, he should’ve been prepared to follow through. Not be a dick and call it off with the day in sight and the dinner all but plated.

  “Is the rest of the bridal party coming?” Becca asked.

  “You mean Scotty’s sisters?” Marlee wrinkled her nose. “That’s a negative.” She pursed her lips into a thin line but then quickly covered it with a smile. “Eli’s helping me find a hotel.”

  “With no luck,” he added. “But you can stay at my place until the convention is over.” Sadie was already sleeping in his bedroom, but he’d use a sleeping bag so Marlee could take the sofa bed.

  “There’s a convention?” Kellie asked.

  “Some outdoor thing.” He shrugged.

  “Okay, you’ll think I’m crazy, but you should go on your honeymoon,” Sadie suggested, marching down the stairs to join the party. “Leave Scotty behind to deal with the fallout and take one of us along instead.”

  “By one of us, she means all of us.” Kellie ran a length of tape along the side of a box.

  Nope. Not Eli. All of us meant all of them.

  “Going on your honeymoon after calling off the wedding is so cliché.” Becca went to work folding another length of corrugated cardboard for Kellie to tape. “Let’s go someplace else.”

  “You know where they have hotel rooms?” Kellie asked. “Vegas.”

  Shit.

  “I’m not going to Vegas.” Marlee fidgeted with one of the boxes.

  “I’m with Mar on this one,” Eli said.

  “Getting out of town for the weekend isn’t a bad idea,” Becca mused. “I mean, of all the places to go after an epic breakup, Vegas is an excellent choice.”

  “The breakup wasn’t epic. No one threw glassware,” Marlee mumbled.

  Broken glass was a requirement for “epic”?

  There was the time Marlee and her senior-year boyfriend had called it quits, and she and the girls had covered his prized ’69 Chevy Camaro Super Sport in toilet paper. Eli had thought that was pretty epic. He’d also been the one to explain to the police that his sister and her friends were not, in fact, perpetual rule breakers. Then he’d been the one to threaten to take away all their mascara if they ever pulled shit like that again.

  “But you wanted to throw something,” Kellie said. “I know you wanted to. Right at his head.”

  “Not really.” Marlee dropped to the sofa beside Eli. “We grew apart.”

  The side of her thigh touched the fabric of Eli’s jeans, her warmth seeping straight into his skin. In the good way when one actually likes someone and doesn’t mind their thighs touching.

  “I mean,” Marlee continued, “at this point, I do think a quick divorce would be easier than cancelling it all, but Scotty’s right, things between us haven’t been awesome for a long time. I just hadn’t realized it yet. Not out loud.”

  One thing about Marlee? She was a toucher. Always had been. So it wasn’t a shock to him when she dropped her hand against his and pulled her calves underneath herself. No, that wasn’t the shock. The shock was that he liked how at ease she was with him. How her hand felt on him. It was one of those endearing Marlee things that helped make her everyone’s friend. Everyone loved Marlee. He wasn’t that kind of person. He had his friends, but he didn’t have the gravitational pull of Marlee.

  It’s not that he was standoffish. But he wasn’t obtuse. He worked out a lot of frustration at the gym. He was six-foot-four, and the amount of space he took up—he’d been told—could sometimes be interpreted as intimidating. Hell, Sadie had told him just that morning she needed to use him as their bouncer if Scotty did anything stupid.

  “Let’s do this,” Kellie suggested. “Finish packing up the basics, grab breakfast, and figure out what comes next.”

  “When’s the last time you ate?” Eli asked Marlee as gently as he could. He may not be able to swing a hotel room, but he did have the skill set required to whip up a decent meal. “You know what? Never mind. Don’t answer that. I’ll make breakfast.”

  “Awesome.” Kellie held out her knuckles for a fist bump.

  He met it.

  Becca started taping together boxes. “It’ll be just like when we were kids.”

  His gut twinged at the thought. Not that he’d minded helping his parents out when he was a teenager—he was the oldest and, in their family, that meant it came with the territory—but his mom had gotten sick, and his dad had worked crazy hours, and that meant Eli had taken care of his four little sisters and, by default, their friends. The stress of that year still raised his blood pressure, and he’d sworn he would never repeat it. Would never put himself in another situation where he was solely responsible for anyone’s well-being.

  “Marlee, you should help Eli.” Becca was already headed upstairs with Sadie. “And by help, I mean you should do nothing and let us all take care of you.”

  “I’m not going to let you guys do it all.” Marlee started to stand.

  Eli caught her hand and pulled her back to the couch. “We’ve got our orders.”

  “I’d like pancakes.” Kellie followed Becca up the stairs. “Pancakes are my favorite.”

  Eli headed to the kitchen and pulled open the Sub-Zero refrigerator that blended in with her maple cabinets. He drooled only a little at the brands and the luxury of Marlee’s appliances. The La Cornue range just begged to be fired up. Petted. Appreciated for the work of art it was. As a professional, a kitchen like this practically made his fingers itch to bake something.

  But he wasn’t there to eye-fuck her appliances. He stuck his head in the door of the fridge and paused. One jar of pi
ckles. Two tablespoons of ketchup left in a plastic squeeze bottle. A couple of Styrofoam takeout boxes.

  This was like the biggest middle finger to a brilliant appliance that he’d ever seen.

  “We usually order in, it’s just easier,” Marlee said from behind him.

  He glanced over his shoulder to where she peered into the refrigerator, her palm resting against his upper back.

  He denied his body’s desire to lean into her hand. To dive into the perpetual kindness in her eyes, the soft look she got when her gaze focused on his, the way her little touches didn’t bother him—when they would have from anyone else.

  His attention turned back to the pickles and away from her continual touch. This would absolutely not work. Channel Ten News had called him a genius in the kitchen. A master of turning nothing into something. One of the national cooking shows had even approached him about doing one of their segments that relied on a chef being able to turn a pot of coffee, whipping cream, and a pork loin into a three-course meal.

  He could not, however, turn a jar of pickles—he reached for it and turned it over in his palm—nix that, a jar of expired pickles, into a breakfast worthy of Kellie’s fist bump.

  “We’re going out to find ingredients.” He stood, closed the door, and set the jar on the countertop next to the stainless-steel sink. “Then, as part of your getting over Scotty, I’m going to teach you to cook.”

  “I’m already over Scotty,” Marlee insisted, but the light didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  He didn’t buy it. He gave her a look that, he hoped, broadcasted just that.

  “There’s a King Soopers just around the corner.” Marlee moved to let Lothario back into the house. “We can hit that for supplies. And I am over Scotty.” Her voice cracked a little at the end. She cleared her throat.