Bad Boy's Bridesmaid (18 page)

I thought nothing
could be worse than walking in on Mom mid-coitus.

I was wrong.

I attempted to
suppress that particularly traumatic memory, but I’d forgotten one very
important person affected by my…discovery.

Dad
.

Monday morning
was a tightrope walk of phone acrobatics, tricks at the copier, and a lunchtime
trip for the office to the busiest restaurant on the block. With a dedicated
effort, I managed to avoid any one-on-one time with Dad through lunch. I lasted
until that sticky, slow part of a workday afternoon where everyone gave up at
three o’clock and migrated to the candy box.

Then he called
me to his office.

What was I
supposed to say to him? Anything about Mom would crush his heart as thoroughly
as she crushed Marcus Washington’s legs.

And there were
those thoughts again, swirling in my head. If nothing else, Mom’s scandal did
give me something to worry about that wasn’t Nate and the baby. Good on her for
always knowing when to butt into my thoughts.

Oh, I really,
really didn’t want to think about her butt now too.

Dad gestured for
me to sit, and he nudged his garbage can and the bag of chips under his desk. Great.
Junk food twice in a day. He’d be a block of salt by the time he got home, and now
Mom wasn’t there to make sure his dinner was a salad instead of a log of pepperoni
and a handful of olives.

“Mandy…” Dad
drummed his fingers against the desk—the same nervous rhythm I patted on my
thighs. “Look, I think we need to talk about what happened this weekend.”

I bit my lip. “I’m
not really the one to talk about this—”

“Of course you
are. And I know it puts you in a very awkward position.”

I figured Mr.
Washington was the one in the uncomfortable position, but I wasn’t saying a
damn thing. “I don’t think it’s my place to say anything—”

“I don’t want
you to be mad at your momma.”

I looked up. Dad
rubbed his bald head with a sigh.

“But she—”

Dad nodded. “I
know. It was inappropriate, and it caused quite the scene. But, you’re young.
You understand. Sometimes people make mistakes in the…heat of the moment.”

Yeah, but my
mistake created a life, it didn’t ruin a marriage.

“I thought you’d
be more…upset?” I said.

“You know I love
your Momma. We have our issues, but it’s nothing that can’t be worked out.”

“That’s
very…optimistic.”

“Well, she’s
worth that fight, Mandy.”

“But what about
the…Washingtons?”

Dad waved a
dismissive hand. “They’ll get over it. It was a momentary embarrassment.”

Wow. He was
really
optimistic. And maybe a little naïve? Nate was right. It was best to let
them figure it all out.

“So, now that’s
settled,” Dad said. “You don’t have to worry about anything. Your mom and I
have an understanding, and it won’t divert any attention from your sister’s
wedding.”

Oh, I wouldn’t
be too sure, but he sounded confident. “Good. We don’t want any distractions.”

Like me and
Nate.

Or the baby.

“You okay?” Dad asked.
“Something’s bothering you.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Aw, come on. You
can’t hide anything from your dad. Remember that time I found the mid-term
report you hid under the bed? The C in math?”

“Dad, I was
eleven.”

“And I knew
then, just like I know now.” He crossed his arms. “Spit it out, Mandy-Pandy.”

Oh God. Wasn’t
talking about Mom’s sex life bad enough?

I heaved a
breath, meeting my father’s gaze for what had to be the first time since I
found out I was pregnant. Somehow, Dad could make me feel like I was a kid
again, in trouble for breaking the glass face on Mom’s grandfather clock.

But this time,
the trouble was
worse
.

I hadn’t told
Mom I was pregnant yet, partly because I knew how she’d react. She’d yell.
Compare me to her
engaged
daughter. Fret and scream and blame herself
all to get me to console
her
. I could handle that, I had all my life.

But Dad?

We were always the
closest. I didn’t want to hurt him.

The last thing I
wanted in this world was to disappoint my father.

“It’s kinda
complicated…” I should have spilled it then. The words caught in my throat.

“Boy trouble?”
Dad winked. “Well, I guess man trouble.”

Sure. That was
easier to talk about. “I guess so.”

“Found a guy you
like?” Dad’s eyes narrowed. “Is he treating you good?”

“It’s not that.
It’s a…possibility that will never, ever happen.” I bit my lip. “Did you always
want to marry Mom?”

“God no. Have
you met your mother?”

“Then…why?”

“Because she was
the one I thought about when I went to bed at night, and she was the first
person I wanted to see in the morning. Nothing more to it than that. I asked
her to marry me, and she refused. Twice. But when it’s right, it’s right.”

“Is that all it
takes?”

Dad laughed. “No
way. Learn from my mistakes, Mandy. If I knew ten, fifteen, or twenty years ago
how to take care of my relationship and put the ego and pettiness aside? Well,
your mom wouldn’t be hiding in country clubs getting booty calls, would she?”

Shudder.

He smiled at me.
“You are a beautiful young woman, and men will chase you. The key is to find
the one you can’t live without—and then you protect that relationship, because
it is as fragile as it is precious.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Anytime.”

I checked my
phone. Lindsey demanded I leave the office before closing to help with the decorations,
but my mind wasn’t on her chosen craft for the night. Dad had made sense. He
always did, but this time he’d made more.

I woke up this
morning dreaming of Nate, and it wasn’t a fear about the pregnancy or panic
about telling him. It was a vision of us, snuggling, together.

That was worth
protecting.

I stopped on the
way home to grab our pizza, though I couldn’t eat the greasy, sloppy mess. I’d
ordered a Hawaiian specifically for the pineapple to eat, but Lindsey was onto
me. She knew I hated her favorite type of pie.

“You’re
not
getting out of arts and crafts.” Lindsey took her dinner with a suspicious
glance. “Don’t even try it.”

“Just wanted to
be nice.”

She waved a pair
of scissors at me, but we had two dozen paper bouquets to make. Every Pinterest
page had different instructions for the flowers, and she didn’t have time to
stop and nag. The project demanded all of her concentration, which was good.
The pregnancy was bad for my mood swings, and even worse for hiding how I felt.
My emotions weren’t on my sleeve anymore—they were tucked inside a glove I’d
use to slap people who riled me up.

I managed to
avoid her inquisition, but she still puttered around me as she nibbled on the
pizza. She and Bryce stopped to eat. I kept trying to turn tissue paper into
roses to avoid questions.

“Something’s
different about you…” Lindsey said.

I folded the
paper and made a cut. “I’m a little tired of paper crafts.”

“No, it’s not
that. You’re…more…” She snapped her fingers at Bryce. “What’s the word I want?”

Bryce didn’t
respond well to a Prescott woman’s glare. He knew better than to cross me.

“She looks
fine,” he said.

“No, there’s
something.” Lindsey tapped her chin with her ring finger. “You’re
calmer
.”

“Isn’t that a
good thing?” I asked. The scissors didn’t work. I reached for the X-Acto knife
to properly frill the leaves.

“It’s not
you
.
You’ve been super crazy these past couple weeks.”

I arched an
eyebrow. Lindsey huffed.

“Okay,” she
said. “I know
some
of it is my fault.”

I smirked. “Some.”

“Still…” Lindsey
leaned close. “Something’s different…”

I trimmed a bit
of the tissue paper from the blossom of the flower. It wasn’t the prettiest,
but tucked into a bouquet, it’d look very fluffy and pink.

Lindsey’s voice
echoed through the house. “Oh, my god.
You had sex
!”

I flinched. The X-Acto
knife sliced my palm.

We all screamed,
though neither of us as shrill as Bryce.

I leapt to my
feet as the blood dripped
everywhere
. Crimson droplets stained three of our
premade flowers and
all
the white tissue paper. Lindsey howled like
she
had been cut, and Mom raced in from the kitchen, covered in flour.

“Who had sex?”
She pointed at me with a finger coated in chocolate chip cookie dough. “Mandy,
I
told
you. Ain’t nothing unnatural about your momma getting some. It’s
how you got here, sweet thing, and I don’t see you complaining—”

“Mom,
move
!”

I pushed past
her to the kitchen, dripping the entire way. Lindsey hurried after me and
tossed me a clean tea-towel to sop up the blood. Mom lingered behind, fanning
Bryce with her apron.

“Lord, have
mercy,” Mom said. “Mandy, are you that much of a klutz? What happened? Why are
you bleeding all over my floors?”

I’d have to
apologize later for the inconvenience of my laceration. I leaned over the sink,
but rinsing the wound made it bleed harder. It wasn’t a small cut, sliced right
through the sensitive skin between my thumb and forefinger. I wrapped it tight
in the towel.

Lindsey poked at
me. “Does it hurt?”

“Ow! Stop!”

“That’s pretty deep.”
She made a face. “You might need stitches.”

Mom padded
across the kitchen and yanked on my hand. She looked at the cut and
hmphed
.
“Sure, she can go to the hospital…and waste her money. Not like her Daddy gives
her good health insurance at that hand-me-down job of hers.”

Lindsey stomped
her foot. “Well, I can’t have a bridesmaid with a giant bandage on her hand for
pictures! Or worse…an oozing, festering, puss-filled wound! We can’t Photoshop
staph infections out of the photos, Mom!”

That did it. Now
I felt woozy. I clutched the sink and swallowed, hard. If I got sick, at least
no one would blame me. I did love the free excuses.

I pointed to
Bryce. “Rick’s working tonight. We’ll go to the hospital. He can patch me up.”

Bryce refused to
look at me, blocking me out of his vision with his raised palm.  “I’ll give you
a lift to the ER. Just…cover that up.”

Lindsey busted
into gear, grabbing my purse and pushing me out the door. She paged Rick, but
when he called to ask about the emergency, she grabbed the phone from me and
hysterically screamed for help.

Rick knew
better. He texted me on the sly. I one-handedly told him I was fine, but if he
wanted to meet us in the ER, I’d love to have someone relatively competent in
my corner.

We got to the hospital,
but Bryce couldn’t leave the air-conditioned car for fear of a complete panic
attack. I thanked him as Lindsey hauled me inside the ER, screaming to any
nurse who would listen about her destroyed paper flower bouquets and the maid-of-honor
nearly slicing a finger off. At least she got us into a room pretty quick.

Rick found us
after only a couple of minutes. He immediately ordered Lindsey to sit down and
shut up—in the way only a lifelong friend could tame the beast. He patted the
bed for me. I hopped up, and his eyebrow arched.

“Good thing it’s
slow tonight.” He stuck the blood pressure cuff on me and shook his head. “Linds,
are you demanding blood tributes from your bridesmaids?”

“For your
information
.”
Lindsey pouted in the chair. “This accident is going to cost us the
whole
night
. I don’t have enough white tissue paper for the rest of the bouquets,
and we’re way behind for the wedding preparations.”

Rick wasn’t
listening. He looked at me. “Wow…how much blood did you lose? Your blood
pressure is low. And your heart rate is a bit…high.”

Uh-oh
.

I shrugged and
lied. “I must just be stressed.”

This was a
problem I hadn’t thought about. Rick charted the numbers, and I kicked myself
for being stupid enough to come to a hospital.

I had discovered
I was pregnant before my missed period and confirming test. Lindsey forced her
bridesmaids to wear Fitbits, and, like a total dork, I was the only one who liked
the cool little device. At first I’d thought the readings were wrong or the
result of a busted component, but troubleshooting forums detailed the common
causes for altered vitals.