Forever Pucked (Pucked 4)

“I thought you wanted a wedding, with people, and a party.”

“You’re the part that matters. I just want you, Violet. Our closest friends are all here.”

She leans back, her lips pursed. She’s considering it.

“We can do this if we want to. There’s nothing to stop us. I want to. I want you.”

“What about all the money you’ve put down for the wedding?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What about our moms?”

“They’ll get over it.” But even as I say this, I’m not so sure it’s true.

Violet sighs. “You have no idea how much I want to say yes to this, Alex. But I can’t do that to my mom. I’m her only child. It was the two of us for almost my entire life. I was at her wedding; she has to be at mine. I can’t get married without her. And your mom would be devastated.”

She’s right. “What if I can get them here?”

“How are you going to do that?”

“With a few phone calls and my credit card.”

She bites her lip. “What time is it in Canada?”

“My dad will still be awake. Are you in?”

Her smile is a resounding yes.

I call my dad who, as expected, is still up. His first reaction is concern, because we have pregnant Sunny with us, so he thinks something has happened to her. His secondary reaction is confusion, until I explain why I’m calling. As this is going on, Violet is on the phone with my travel agent, booking their flight and transportation to the airport. We can get them here before lunch tomorrow.

Of course, then my mom has to get on the phone and argue her case.

“Mom, we’re getting married this weekend, and we’d really like you to be here.”

“But what about the cottage in August? I have invitation samples; people are expecting a wedding. Violet doesn’t even have her dress. It’ll have to be something off the rack. Do they even have nice places to buy wedding dresses in Vegas? I don’t know about this—”

“I’m not asking permission; I’m telling you. This is happening. I’ve taken care of your flight, transportation, and accommodations. I know this isn’t what you would’ve planned for us, but it’s what we want, and we want you here with us.”

The silence following this statement is long. Violet sits beside me, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. I mouth It’ll be fine.

She sighs. “Okay. I’ll get a bag packed. But can you not get married tomorrow? Can you please wait until the next day because we’ll have pictures, and I don’t want to have bags under my eyes, and I’m not sure I’m going to get much sleep tonight. And I need a dress. We’ll have to go shopping, and tomorrow should be a girl’s day. Violet needs a proper bachelorette party.”

“We can swing that.” I give Violet the thumbs up, and she shakes her boobs like they’re maracas.

The call to her mom is much easier. Violet straddles my lap while she waits for Skye to answer. She explains the plan and has to hold the phone away from her ear at her mom’s shrieking. Of course Skye is down for a Vegas wedding.

We hang up and book flights for Skye and Sidney as well; they’ll arrive around the same time as my parents.

Violet claps her hands. The movement makes her rock over my erection. “Oh my God, we’re getting married. In Vegas!”

I hold on to her hips. “We are.”

“Why the hell didn’t we think of this earlier?”

“Because we wrongly assumed our mothers wouldn’t interfere, and we were trying to please the wrong people.”

“So true.” She puts her hands on my chest. “We need to celebrate!”

“I was thinking the exact same thing.” Her half-exposed boobs graze my chest.

“I need to tell Charlene! And Sunny! And Lily if we can get her and Randy to stop fucking for five minutes. Oh my God! Let’s order champagne and that fake champagne for Sunny so she doesn’t feel left out!” Violet rolls off the bed and pulls the lapels of her robe together, covering her boobs. “Come on!”

She stops when I don’t move right away and glances down to where my hard-on strains the cotton of my boxer briefs. There’s a big wet spot where Violet was sitting on me.

“I thought maybe you’d want to celebrate in here first, before we celebrate with our friends.”

“You’re so smart.” Violet drops her robe on the floor and drags a red-tipped nail from my ankle all the way up my thigh.

She climbs on the bed and straddles my legs. Hooking her fingers into the waistband, she pulls my boxer briefs down, and my erection springs free. “But I think we should probably scale back on the sex after this round.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t want a sore beaver for my wedding night.”

“Right, good call. But there’s always boob sex.”