Screwed (V-Card Diaries 2)

I take it as a sign that everything is going to go smoothly tonight. We just have to get through the initial announcement and the associated shock and excitement, and everything will be fine.

Idiot that I am, I actually believe that, right up until the moment Aunt Carol steps into the elevator behind us, her eyes go directly to my left finger like a bloodhound trained to scent diamonds, and her wrinkled lips purse into a cat anus of disapproval.

“Oh dear,” she says, her troubled gaze flicking to Derrick’s face and then back to mine with a heavy sigh. “You’ve really gone and stepped in it now, haven’t you, dear?”

Chapter Eleven

Derrick

Harlow lets out a breezy laugh I might have bought as the real thing if she weren’t squeezing my bicep so tight, I’m starting to lose circulation in my arm.

“What do you mean, Aunt Carol?” she asks, with another chuckle. “And how are you? Looks like your foot is better.”

“Got my cast off last week,” the older woman with the fuzzy yellow hair says, casting another disapproving glance my way. “But it still aches when it’s cold and it’s always cold up here. We should have met in Florida.”

“Well, this is Gram’s favorite place,” Harlow says. “So, I’m okay with the cold.”

Carol sniffs and her lips purse even tighter. “Of course. This is all about Beverly. As it should be. Maybe people should have thought about that before they showed up with a surprise guest and tried to make the week all about their drama instead of poor Beverly’s last family celebration.”

Harlow pulls in a breath but the doors ding open a second later, and Carol adds, “But it’s too late now.” She steps out of the car, casting one last disparaging look my way. “See you at the table.”

Harlow grinds to a stop by one of the couches scattered throughout the area in front of the host’s desk. I glance down to see panic in her eyes and assure her, “It’s fine. You’re not stealing focus. You’re giving your gram a great surprise. You know that. She was thrilled when she saw the ring, right?”

“She was,” she whispers, “but maybe Evil Aunt Carol is right. Maybe we shouldn’t tell the rest of the family. I can still take the ring off before dinner. It’s not too late. We can just say we ran into each other in the lobby or something and I invited you to dinner.”

“Won’t your gram think it’s weird if you lie to your parents about our engagement?” I ask. “And your aunt already saw the ring.”

Harlow curses beneath her breath. “Right. You’re right. If we don’t tell them, Carol will. Probably in a nasty whisper while she and my mom are crocheting by the fire and discussing all the reasons I’m a disappointment to the family.”

“You’re not a disappointment. How could you be? You’re smart, successful, a great friend, a devoted daughter. Half the time I’m over at your apartment for dinner with Evie, you’re in Jersey at some family event. Not many people in their mid-twenties make that kind of effort. When Ian and I were your age, we always found excuses to stay in the city and hit the bars instead of going home.”

“I’m a disappointment because I’m an oddball. Like Gram,” Harlow says, her volume low but her anxiety clearly increasing as we start toward the host station. “I always say the wrong thing and think the wrong thing, and I was a vegetarian for six years before I started eating chicken again in tenth grade and it drove Aunt Carol crazy. She was positive I was going to stunt my growth with tofu and tried to get my parents to take me to a psychiatrist. She’s never forgiven me for shunning her Thanksgiving turkey and going on to reach five feet eight inches without devouring tons of red meat.”

“You’re not an oddball,” I say, lifting a hand in surrender when she shoots me a hard look out of the corners of her eyes. “Or at least not any more so than anyone else. And Aunt Carol has obviously spent too much time sucking lemons and needs to relax.”

Harlow lets out a shaky laugh. “Believe it or not, she means well. She just hates surprises. If I’d called her ahead of time and warned her that I was bringing my fiancé, she would be our biggest fan.” She squeezes my arm again. “That’s why you have to think things through, Derrick. A little forward thinking wins friends, softens enemies, and keeps life running smoothly.”

I grunt. “All right. Then let’s think ahead. It’s not too late.”

I put my arm around her waist, guiding her forward, past the woman manning the host stand.

“We see our party,” I assure the blonde with a smile as I practically jog to catch up with Carol’s fuzzy head as it bobs toward the large circular table in the corner, where half of Harlow’s family is already seated. Lucky for us, the adults have already started drinking and the shouts, laughter, and arguing is loud enough to drown out my voice as I call, “Aunt Carol, wait a second. We have a favor to ask.”