So, like the responsible, good-hearted person I am, I’m hoping for option one. For Connor’s sake.
“Just remember, you’re a good man, and you can live a life of honesty now.” I smooth his lapels and then pat him a bit too hard. Tough love before I lay on the compliments. “And you’re sexy AF.”
He ignores the compliment, and with an evil twist to his smirk, he clarifies, “Honesty. So I can say anything I want.”
I roll my eyes, pushing his tie knot up high and tight, choking him a little bit in warning. “No, not insults and mean shit. That’s what we’re trying to stop, remember? You can be honest, but not to a fault. No barbaric, grumpy asshole shit.”
I let go of the tie slowly, daring him to disagree, but he tilts his head and adjusts the knot back to a less constricting position before taking a deep breath. “Conan once said he preferred barbarians to polite society because a man’s a lot more respectful when he knows he might get an axe to the head.”
“Well we don’t have an axe,” I remind him, “and Gary’s at home. But how about this? If they start it, you finish it.”
The very idea of the possibility of unleashing on his family seems to help with his nerves, and more confidently, he says, “Let’s get this shit over with.”
But I see the slight hesitation before he rings the doorbell. Underneath the curmudgeonly act, he’s nervous that even the truth won’t be enough to satisfy his parents or change their long-held opinion of him. The huge bell ding-dongs with echoes, and dimly, I think that doorbell sounds like a fucking funeral dirge. Hopefully, that’s not a bad omen.
Debra opens the door, her smile a bit trembly as she steps back to let us in. “Hi, kids! Come on in!” Her tone is overly bright and chipper, falsely so. “You look so nice.”
“Thank you, Debra. You do too,” I reply, not even looking her over. I’m too busy focusing on how she’s looking at Connor. There’s a darkness in her eyes, a worry she’s carried for a long time. Hopefully, what Connor has to say will help alleviate some of that.
Caylee calls out from the living room, “We’re in here.”
We follow Debra into the living room to find Caylee and Evan sitting on the couch, their thighs pressed against one another and Evan’s arm thrown over the back of the couch surrounding Caylee protectively. They look comfortable, happy, and very much in love. And a bit tan from their honeymoon.
For his part, Robert is sitting in a leather club chair, his scotch glass looking freshly poured. And despite our being right on time, it feels like we’re interrupting something.
“You decided to get together early to gossip about me,” Connor guesses, reading the room. I can feel his weight shift as he prepares to bolt, so I squeeze his hand tighter. It’s a reminder that we’re here, we’re doing this together, and he’d better not make me run in my sexiest heels. I’d probably break an ankle, end up falling to the floor, and then Connor would have to decide if was leaving me behind to the wolves or taking the time to scoop me up and carry me to safety.
Hmm . . . wait, that would be good for the next book. Maybe Ryker could save Amber? Or hell, she could save him. I’m not trapped in gender roles. Amber can be the knight in shining armor.
“No, of course not, dear. We’re just . . .” Debra says, pausing as she searches for the right words, “uhm, excited about what news you might have to share with us.”
Caylee doesn’t play along with Debra’s lie, laughing and telling Connor, “Mom’s bet is that Poppy is preggers. You got yourself a little Poppyseed muffin in the oven?”
“Caylee Marie!” Debra shouts. She looks to me, horror in her eyes, not at the thought but at it being laid so plainly bare. Quieter, and aiming for some semblance of manners, she asks, “Uhm, but since Caylee mentioned it . . . are you?”
“No, Mom,” Connor snaps, not seeing the humor in it all. “I didn’t knock her up.”
I shake my head and tell Debra a bit more gently, “Not pregnant, though the practicing is fun. But we’re safe. We stretch before and after to prevent pulled muscles.”
Whatever relief she felt from finding out that I’m not pregnant is dashed at the mention of Connor’s and my sex life, but hey . . . ask personal questions, get personal answers.
Connor, though, is still a bull in a china shop with almost no relaxing despite my attempts at humor. “I’d bet Dad’s guess is that I’ve been charged with something. What about you, Caylee?”
Caylee rolls her eyes but doesn’t look upset. “Right on Dad.” She snuggles into Evan’s side and adds, “Our bet is that you two eloped and you’re here to tell us that there won’t be a wedding because you’re already hitched.” She sighs. “I wouldn’t blame you. I wouldn’t change a thing about our day, but damn, that was stressful. All the planning and work, the expenses, and the people. If I’d known, I might’ve considered running off to a beach somewhere, just the two of us, to get married. The wedding costs alone would have snagged us a down payment on a house, you know that?”