Moore To Love (13 page)

If only it were that simple. I hate disappointing clients, and I’ve gotten used to my workout routine. If the doctor hadn’t made me so nervous about the after effects of a concussion, I’d tell him to go scratch and continue on with my business as usual. Besides, Lane gave me an earful too.
Him
I’m okay listening to.
His
word is gospel.

Just thinking about Lane and how he sent me off with such care and concern sends a smile creeping to my lips and warm fuzzies up my spine.

“You’re doing it again.” Mom interrupts my dreamy thoughts with a discerning nudge.

Damn it.
Does this woman miss nothing? “Doing what?” I’m not going there with her. If I thought Tatum was bad, Mom’s inquisition will go down in history, far superseding the one that took place in the medieval times of Spain.

“You’re in La La Land. Just like you were last night when Daddy and I came to visit, then again this morning when I came to pick you up. And it was the same for most of the car ride home. What gives, Madeline? I’m not stupid. I know when something’s going on.” That she does, but I’ll be damned if I’m about to tell her that
something
is a guy who has my heart beating at the pace of a marathon sprinter.

A good actress I am not, but I try my best at sick-patient improv by bringing my hand up to my bandage-covered bump. “You heard the doctor, Ma. He said I could have dizzy spells and migraines for a while. That’s all. My head still hurts.” I throw in a wince and bite my lip for good measure.

“Oh, baby. You poor thing.” She lifts off the couch like a jack-in-the-box and reaches for a throw blanket from the love seat. Draping it over me, she guides me into a more relaxed position. “Here. You lay down and take a snooze. I’ll start some chicken soup.”

Crisis averted. I do as I’m told and settle against the pillow, resting my eyes. Before my mother can chop an entire carrot, I’m out for the count.

I’m ninety-nine-point-nine percent positive that when the doctor said to take it easy he didn’t mean having my entire family and my best friend over to play a heated game of Bullshit.

“Bullshit!” Reynold shouts, throwing his cards down on the table. “There’s no way in hell you have that card.”

“Do you?” Tatum taunts, clutching her hand to her chest.

“No, but—”

“But nothing,” she cuts him off with a wicked grin. “Do you call Bullshit or not, Rey? Going once, going twice . . .”

Reynold observes the rest of the players with an intense stare that would better serve him as an FBI interrogator. Everyone else remains stoic, focused on their cards or the intricate wood grain in the table top. I will never understand how such a silly, childish game like Bullshit can turn into DEFCON 5.

It’s time for them to go. My head hurts, I’m tired, and if Reynold doesn’t win this game—he’s the sorest of sore losers ever—all hell will break loose. “Abort mission!” I shout from my reclined position in the living room. I haven’t moved all day because whenever I tried it felt like the world was teetering back and forth unnaturally on its axis.

“What’s the matter, Leni? Nauseous again?” Mom abandons her cards to rush over to me.

Tatum and Ashley follow suit, leaving Reynold to scour through the scattered cards and Dad to clean up the table.

They huddle around me as if I’m some endangered species on the verge of extinction. “Back off, mother hens. I’m fine. I just need some peace and quiet and your Bullshit screaming hasn’t exactly allowed me that small luxury.”

Mom pats my head lovingly while my two closest friends gang up on me.

“Someone got the fun knocked out of her when she smacked into that tree.” Tatum elbows Ashley, who responds with another snarky quip. “Yeah, I think I know just the right person to force it back into her.”

The two share a scheming chuckle that perks Mom’s ears up at Border Collie attention. “Huh? Who are you talking about? What did I miss?”

“I’ll murder you,” I mouth, glaring at my supposed friends.

Apparently the look of death I give Ashley does the trick because she quickly changes the subject. “Josie, did your son tell you we picked a wedding date?”

Mom’s concentration is diverted from me and fixated on my card-hunting brother. “No! What do you mean? Reynold, you little shit!”

Rey shrugs it off and goes to the fridge to help himself to another beer. “Girl stuff. I figured Ashley already told you.”

The happy couple goes back and forth, placing blame on the other for not sharing the details. It’s late breaking news to me too so I’m all ears. Even if they’re ringing from the unnecessary racket.

Tatum, sensing my mental combustion, breaks up the family feud with a loud, well-practiced whistle from between her fingers. “Whoa! Stop the bickering! Just tell us already.”

The room falls silent—momentary bliss—and Ashley beams. “It turns out the winery Leni suggested had a last minute cancelation. We’ll have to pull a lot of strings and ask for tons of favors to get all the vendors lined up, but this seemed meant to be so . . . we’re getting married on November eighteenth.”

My brother joins his bride in the living room and nuzzles into her neck. It’s plain to see they’re happy with their decision, but Mom and I set off into sudden panic mode.

“November eighteenth? As in
this
November eighteenth? That’s less than two months away! Definitely not sufficient notice for the out-of-state family. I have to get a dress. The caterer. Your shower, Ashley! There’s not enough time. It can’t be done!”

I allow my mother to spew her tirade of worries while my own mini-monsoon of concerns bombards my already throbbing brain.
I still have so much to loose. I imagined I’d have more time to get in shape. And find a date. What the hell are these two thinking?
And then it dawns on me. “Are you knocked up?”

“Leni!” Ashley scolds in shock, but all eyes are on her. Even Reynold’s.

“Well? Are you, dear?” My mother’s face is a mix between scared shitless and overjoyed. If the tables were turned and I was the one who was potentially preggers out of wedlock, she’d have whipped out the wooden spoon and chased me around my own apartment.

“No! Of course I’m not pregnant. Wow! I had no idea you’d all be so skeptical and judgmental over this. I imagined everyone would be happy that we’ve decided to do this sooner rather than later. I guess we can call the venue and see what they have a little further out. I don’t want to cause any problems for anyone.” Ashley’s on the verge of tears, rambling on and on while she paces. I have to hand it to her—if this were me and my fiancé’s family had pulled the shit show we just pulled, I’d be waving sayonara to the whole lot of them, including my non-supportive husband-to-be. But not Ashley. She’s a saint. I’m almost positive she’ll be canonized when she gets through those pearly gates just for dealing with all of us.

The room is in a quiet commotion of hushed whispers in separate corners. I can’t take the pathetic look of defeat on Ashley’s face and my brother’s hum-de-dum, blasé attitude about something that has his girl so upset.

I’m usually the
not my circus, not my monkeys
type of gal, but I’ve seen enough and God help me . . . I want this night over with for once and for all so I can get the much needed rest I was prescribed. “Ashley, don’t you dare change a thing! This is
your
big day. No one else’s.”

“Hey, it’s mine too.” Reynold finally speaks.

“Oh, shut it, nitwit.
Now
you want to say something?”

Thankfully, Reynold gets the point and zips his lips, leaving Ashley and I to our moment.

“Ash,” I amble over to her slowly, gripping her shoulders with a tight squeeze. “If you want to get married to my ass of a brother on November eighteenth, then get married on November eighteenth. We’ll figure out the details—
together
, if need be—and make it work. This is about you and Reynold and anyone who has boo to say about your date being inconvenient for them needs to reevaluate their place in your lives. Got it?” I realize I’ve dug my own grave and put a nail in the coffin by backing up her cockamamie plan, but the girl is in tears. I can’t have that. Not on my turf. So what if I don’t have a date? Who cares if I’m not down another twenty pounds. All eyes will be on Ashley anyway. It’s not my day. It’s hers.

“You really mean that? You don’t object?” Ashley swipes at an errant tear and it’s as though it’s only me and her in this room full of watchful eyes.

“I could never object to finally having you as a sister. You know I love you. You’re my best friend.”

“Hey! That’s my job!” Tatum butts in from behind me.

I roll my eyes and turn to her with reassurance. “Yes, Tatum, you are and always will be my bestie for life, but Ashley is too, so deal with it.”

“I’m just messing with you. You know I love her, too.” She comes over to put one arm around me and the other around Ashley, pulling us in for a group hug. “I know I have no say in this, but I’m with Leni. Go with your gut. Don’t listen to these crazies. Love ya, Mr. and Mrs. Moore!”

Mom and Dad grunt from the kitchen and Tatum retreats to kiss their asses and help Dad tidy up the rest of the mess from this evening.

Left with Ashley and my brother, I reiterate my honest feelings about the situation. “I’m serious, guys. If that’s your date, stick with it. Do what makes you happy.”

The two lovebirds gaze at each other and smile before falling into a warm embrace. “November eighteenth it is!” Reynold sings, lifting Ashley in the air and swinging her around.

I quickly dart my attention to my mother who’s no longer a deer in headlights. There’s no doubt this will make for millions of side conversations and late night complaints, but for now she’s content because her little prince is content in the arms of his saintly princess.

My work here’s done, or so it seems, because Reynold and Ashley are engrossed—emphasis on the gross—in a lip lock fit for a late night Cinemax flick. The public display of affection churns my stomach and reminds me of my concussion and its possible aftermath. “Okay, now, everyone get out! I need my beauty sleep.” I don’t care that it’s blunt, I don’t give a crap that it’s rude. I’m done with this day and I’d like to end it on a happy note.

My family starts to disassemble and I find my spot back on the couch that has housed my ass for the last six hours or so. Just when I think the crew is set to sail away off into the night, there’s an unexpected buzz at the door.
Damn it all to hell!
I was this close to silence. What now?

Total blackout moment. Did someone call for takeout and forget about it? I could swear I paid the paperboy last week. “Who the hell could that be?” I’m clueless. And did I mention how dog-tired I am?

Everyone takes turns kissing me goodbye on their way to the door and Mom scurries past to answer it with her purse already in place on her shoulder. “Let me get it.”

I gladly accept her offer and stay put. However, when the door swings open and I see my surprise visitor, I’m on my feet in 2.2 seconds. “Lane? What are you doing here?” I don’t know if the words are audible because my tongue has become a dried up slab in my mouth and my pulse is thundering in my ears.

“Well, lookie what we have here,” Tatum goads.

“Is that
him
?” Ashley rushes to her side, whispering.

“Leni, who’s this?” Mom’s oblivious.
Thank God.
I’d like to keep her that way, too.

It’s my turn to be the deer in headlights. I’m momentarily speechless until I notice the bouquet of daisies in Lane’s hands. “Um, everyone. This is my friend, Lane. Lane why don’t you come in. They were just heading out. Let me say my goodbyes and I’ll be right with you.”

The poor man simply nods and makes his way past every curious bystander to this very awkward greeting.

One by one, I usher my now unwanted company out into the hallway. Questions fly and giggles ensue, but this has been one long ass day and I have a—I have a
Lane
waiting for me. Inside
my
apartment. “You all need to leave. Now. Thank you for taking care of me today, but if you don’t scram—like right now—I’m disowning every last one of you.”

I don’t give them time to object or intercede. Instead, I squeeze past a baffled Dad, Mom, Reynold, Ashley, and Tatum and slam the door behind me. Once back inside, I lean against the door and let out the longest sigh known to womankind. Lane’s spellbinding smile–dimples and all—is what infuses the air back into my lungs.