“I almost hung up. You all right?”
“Yeah, my bad. I was in the shower.”
“Oh, I’m sorry—”
“Don’t apologize. You good?”
I turn onto my road. “Yup, I was just driving and thinking—”
“Shit, that could be a bad thing.”
I roll my eyes. “Hush, you,” I tease, and then I’m grinning. “But I was wondering something.”
“Okay?”
“Are you putting a label on us because you don’t want me to be with anyone else?”
He pauses for a second. “I can see why you would think that, but that’s not my way of thinking. I could put a ring on your finger today, and if you wanted to leave me, you could.”
“This is true.”
“I put a label on us because I want you to know I’m serious. I’m not playing around. I don’t want you to think I don’t like you or question if I want to be with you. I do. I like you, Posey. A lot. And well, I want you to be mine. I don’t want you with anyone else. So I guess, yeah, maybe I did put a label on us for that reason, but I’m not a fucking-around kind of guy. I wanted to be after the way things went with Julia, but I’m not. I want to do this with you. Do you want to do it with me?”
I swallow hard. “I do.”
“That sounded really formal,” he teases, and I giggle softly. “I’m glad you called.”
“Me too.” I pull into our driveway. “But I just got home, and I gotta haul ass to get ready. Can I call you after my meetings?”
“You better.”
I grin. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Oh, I don’t have to. You will.”
My face hurts from grinning as I hang up and turn off my car. I tuck my phone into my pocket as I head up the driveway. It isn’t until I reach the side door that I notice Shelli is here.
Fantastic.
When I walk in, the noise assaults me. My brothers are playing PlayStation, and Shelli is at the table with Mom.
With the Wedding Book from Hell.
When I met the Wedding Book from Hell, I was fourteen. I stumbled across it when we were sharing a room because we had company, and I couldn’t find my lucky hockey socks. Pure fear shook me as I opened it and found all the things my sister wanted. There were cutouts, moving pieces, and glitter. All the fucking glitter. It wasn’t until I was in college watching Friends with my roommate that I realized my sister is a crazier version of Monica Geller. Monica’s wedding book had nothing—and I mean nothing—on the Wedding Book from Hell made by one Shelli Adler. My sister has been creating this book since she was eleven, and it’s terrifying.
I fake a scream. “Ah! Put it away! Dad’s angina!”
Mom flashes me a grin as Shelli glares. My dad is lying with his head on the table, clutching his wallet. He only does that when the book comes out. It’s quite dramatic, but all Adler-style.
“Shut up, Posey.”
I laugh. “Are we doing wedding scenario A, B, C, D, or E? Did we add an F?”
“I hate you,” she sings in her angelic voice. “We’re doing D.”
I lean on the bar, hoping no one notices I’m in yesterday’s clothes. “Ah, we cut the doves?”
“Apparently Dad is worried about PETA.”
I snort. “How unfortunate.”
Mom shakes her head. “But it’s okay. The wedding will be glamorous, no matter what.”
Shelli nods and, with jazz hands, says, “All the glitter.”
Thank you, Broadway.
“How about that guest list?” I ask, knowing it’s a touchy subject.
“We’re down to…” Shelli whispers something, and Mom can’t help but laugh.
“Sorry, I didn’t hear you?”
“Seven hundred,” she mutters, but we all hear her this time.
Dad groans, and of course, I giggle. Mom is beaming. She loves a good party. “It will be the wedding of the year. I’m sure of it. We can even have the Cup there!”
She claps her hands together, and Dad groans again. “Do I have to buy insurance if we have that thing there? Can’t we just have a cutout?”
“Hush, Shea,” she scolds, and I’m fighting back my laughter. “It’s our firstborn’s wedding. It has to be a big deal!”
“And you’re obsessed with parties, and Shelli has that ridiculous book,” I offer, and Dad points at me, still with his head on the table.
“What she said.”
Now, both my sister and mother are glaring at me. “You’re wearing the brightest pink I can find, and I will douse you in glitter.”
I make a face. “Well, that escalated quickly.”
“And the highest heels we can find too,” Mom adds, and then they high-five.
“Dad, help. They’re double-teaming me.”
“Welcome to my life,” he moans, and I kinda feel for the guy.
“Okay. Well, I gotta get ready,” I say, thinking I’m in the clear. I mean the Wedding Book from Hell is out; surely no one notices what I am wearing. But I forgot my mom does have eyes like a hawk.