The Other F-Word (3 page)

Adam just stared back, scratching his head until Rick sighed.

“Oh, sorry,” Adam said, taking something from the table next to him.

“Until I saw you holding this, baby.” Rick held up a frame containing a coffee-stained piece of paper they had both told us about during a dish session. It was the makeshift sign she’d held up at the airport when they’d first met. Rick was sentimental so it made sense he’d kept it. I wasn’t prepared to see paper with the words ‘R U RANDY’, written in Marley’s large scrawl, penned with pink lipstick.

Marley cupped her hands to her face as everyone else either gasped in confusion or sighed in awe—I was among the awe crowd.

Rick handed the sign back to Adam then took her hands in his. “You didn’t know I had it. I took it that day. You see, that’s how sure I was of us, even when you weren’t. Marley, I am not your better. I am not your hero. I am just yours…in every way. You’ve always owned my heart.”

It surprised me how quickly he was able to adapt his vows, since neither of them had told the other what they were going to say. Then again, Rick had always been eloquent. “So, Miss Marley Reba Mason, soon to be Randy”—he arched his brow—“wow, that takes on a different meaning now that I say it aloud.”

Marley’s carefree laugh was the loudest, followed by all the guests.

He took her wrist and kissed the underside. “You’re a hard woman to know, but I thank God every day you let me know you, and I vow to break down any walls between us. Today as we say the words that will merge us as one, I want you to know I am committed to you in every way, my love. I promise to make you laugh when you’re sad, help you heal when you’re in pain and battle any fear beside you. I promise to give you all that I am and everything I will ever be.”

Damn…there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. His passion was infectious and the love he had for Marley palpable.

The second kiss was quick, and he didn’t even let her walk down the aisle. He carried her, moving with quick steps like he was in a footrace while she giggled in his arms. I knew why—a mother always knows.

Forty-five minutes later, everyone was starting to question where the hell they were.

“They said they were going to have some German chocolate cake in the room,” Dillon said.

“What? We have a huge wedding cake down here,” Stevie quipped, hands on her hip. “We’re running behind schedule.”

“They’re not talking about dessert, babe,” Adam said, kissing the top of his son’s head as he lay asleep in the baby sling against his chest.

“Oh.” Stevie flushed slightly.

“Someone needs to be changed,” Adam said, giving Stevie that hopeful look.

“Let’s go together.” She took his hand.

“Can we get some German chocolate cake too?” He followed behind her. “You know, when the babysitter gets here?”

I chuckled, watching them walk off.

I was a biased woman, but hell if I hadn’t made some damn good-looking children, who had married some handsome young men. My grandchildren were all going to be breathtaking like little Bobby—he already had a smile that could dazzle any woman in the room.

Marley and Rick emerged at the entrance then. I muffled my laugh at their appearance. Her gown was crinkled, his tie was crooked and both of them looked as if they had travelled through a windstorm.

“Shit, I knew she’d mess up her hair,” Dillon said, running over to her. He dragged her to the bathroom before anyone could see her.

Rick walked over to me, running his hands through his hair to comb it out, not hiding the wide smirk on his face.

“Congratulations, Rick. I would say welcome to the family, but as far as I’m concerned, you belonged to us the first time Marley brought you home.”

“Thank you, Emmie. It’s an honour to be a part of this close-knit clan.”

“You have earned your place, young man. I know it hasn’t been an easy road.”

“We still have some walls. We’ll work through them together.” He didn’t have to explain—he was talking about Marley’s hesitation to have children. It was because she couldn’t take her medication while pregnant. Her night terrors continued, but they were manageable. She worried what would happen if she didn’t have the control of those routines. She worried for him. She worried for their future children. She agreed she wanted them, but not right away. He agreed to wait for her.

“Rick, you know everything she does comes from a place of selflessness, even if it doesn’t seem like it.”

“I am aware of that, and that’s why I love her so much. She’s one of a kind.”

I took his hand. “I know it was difficult losing your parents at such a young age, even though they are here in spirit. Let me say what they cannot. They would be so proud of the successful and kind man they raised. You’re one of a kind as well. My daughter’s very lucky.”

He bowed slightly. “Thank you. That means a great deal to me.”

I wanted to say more, but Adam approached us before I could.

“C’mon, Magic Man, let’s do a shot,” Adam said, handing Bobby to me. I kissed Bobby’s fragile head and inhaled the scent of him. There was nothing as fresh as a baby…well, most of the time anyway.

“Hiya, handsome, can you say ‘grandma’?”

Four-month-old Bobby replied with a squeal, blinking his huge blue eyes that were all Stevie, and that crooked smile that belonged to his father. It melted my heart.

“Clara’s here, Mom,” Stevie said, pointing to the babysitter.

Marley wanted photos with Bobby, but Stevie and Adam wanted to have a fun night. They’d settled somewhere in between, bringing the baby for the first part of the wedding. I wasn’t quite ready to let go.

It was for the best though, because the rest of the night passed in a blur. It was definitely no place for a baby. There were mixed cocktails with my daughters and shots with my sons. Feasting, laughing, clinking our silverware against expensive goblets, encouraging the happy couple to kiss—not that they needed much prodding. The dancing was my favourite though. There is nothing that binds a family quite like doing the chicken dance as a cohesive unit. Rick smashed cake into Marley’s mouth. Marley stood on his feet while they moved slowly to every song, even the fast ones. Before I knew it, Marley stood on the stage with that beautiful rose-less bouquet in her hands, ready to toss it to the sea of eligible women, vying for it as if she was actually throwing a single man over her shoulder. She turned and stared at the crowd one more time.

“Where’s my mother?” she yelled.

I shrank down in my seat, wondering what the hell she was doing. I had no intention of catching the bouquet. That ship had sailed and I never wanted to set anchor again. Despite my protests, Rick and Adam pulled me to the stage and placed me front and centre.

Single Ladies
by Beyoncé started playing. My face was flushed with drink, dance and embarrassment…my hips didn’t care and sashayed to the music. What the hell? It was Beyoncé and who could refrain from dancing to Sasha Fierce? Marley pointed to me with that damn bouquet in some sort of Babe Ruth gesture, alerting everyone to her target. In fact, Dillon made sure all the other women held back so I’d catch the damn thing.

She stared at me intently before turning around. I was pretty sure she was calculating the distance, velocity and aim. She tossed it with perfect precision, just like she did when she pitched a softball. It flew through the air in slow motion, symbolising all the things I’d put behind me. Promises for a future of fidelity and faith…something I’d never put stock in, not for myself. So what’s a girl to do when all those frightening concepts were coming for her in the form of artfully arranged flowers, beads and lace? What I did.

I froze.

The damn thing smacked me in the face before skidding against the marble floor, making a journey towards the outstretched hands of the hopeful girls who deserved it. Dillon had other plans though. He dived for it like he was rounding home plate. He side-stepped two of Marley’s friends, dropping to his knees and sliding across the floor to grasp the fallen object. He grinned, standing apart from the desperate cloud of women, holding up the blossoms like a trophy. I clapped for him and everyone followed suit. He did a debonair bow in response. I gave Marley an admonishing glance, which she mirrored right back at me.

I headed back to the bar. I needed another drink.

“You Mason girls need to learn how to catch these damn things,” Dillon said, breathing heavily and setting the bouquet in front of me.

“You caught it and quite heroically. It’s yours.”

He leaned in close, and I couldn’t resist tousling his gorgeous brown curls. They all sprang right back in place. Dillon was such a perfectionist that even his hair wouldn’t dare misbehave. “It’s not meant for me. It was supposed to be yours. I’m too busy to make sachets this time, so just take it.” I laughed, remembering how he had made them for Marley out of Stevie’s bouquet.

“It won’t do any good. I don’t believe in such things anyway.”

“It’s not a prerequisite to believe in magic for it to work,” he said, bumping my shoulder. “Can I have a dozen creamers, please?” he requested of the bartender. The man looked at him curiously before leaving to fetch them. Oh crap.

His OCD was acting up, as he liked to say. The only thing that would help was arranging something. Anything. And now that Marley’s hair was in tip top shape, he needed to keep his hands busy.

I rubbed his arm. “I’ll count, you build. Okay?” Usually my counting helped him get through it a bit faster. The frustration set in when he lost count.

“I’m such a freak. I can’t even enjoy my best friend’s wedding.”

I took his face in my hands and turned him towards me. “There is nothing wrong with you. Your mind works differently than others, and that doesn’t make you strange…it makes you special. I’m so glad you came into Marley’s life because you’ve been such a good friend to her. More than a friend…a brother. As far as I’m concerned, you’re family and you always will be. So I say, let’s make some towers.”

He started lining them up. “Thank you for counting, Emmie.”

“Thank you for catching my bouquet, son. The next one belongs to you though.”

“I love you, Mom.”

I felt the solid lump in my throat get bigger. He’d never called me mom. The title touched me. If I could, I would solve all his problems, like I’d tried with Marley. A mother may never accept it, but she can understand that her children have to figure it out for themselves. “I love you too,” I said, kissing his head.

Chapter Two

I walked out of the hotel with aching feet and that perfect level of drunkenness—stumbling and happy, but not stupid and queasy. Thank God Rick had had the foresight to have several limos waiting for us so we could drink freely. And boy had I. Rick and Marley were staying at the hotel then leaving for the airport in the morning for Jamaica. I wasn’t looking forward to the empty house. They’d got their own place and moved out a few weeks ago. The charming bungalow they’d chosen in Edison Park would be perfect for my future grandchildren. Stevie and Adam had their own place in Chicago Heights not too far from me. Billie would be going back to school tomorrow. For the first time in my life, I was an empty nester. I sat in the limo, pushing those thoughts away and focusing on the memories of my daughter walking down the aisle. Dillon slid next to me. I leaned my head against his shoulder.

“Wasn’t it an amazing night?”

“Not yet, but I think it could be,” a deep, gravelly voice answered, causing my throat to go dry despite the copious amounts of liquor I’d consumed.

Shit. This was a huge hotel with multiple functions. Why hadn’t I checked before hopping into the car like I owned it?

“I’m in the wrong limo,” I said, scooting towards the door.

He clasped my arm. “Or maybe you’re in the right one.”

My flesh broke out into goosebumps from the contact of his skin against mine. What was going on? This was the reaction of a shy school girl, not a confident woman like myself. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

“Wait.” There was a command in that voice that I didn’t question. I halted right away.

“I believe this is yours,” he said, handing me the bouquet. I cursed the flowers because their sweet scent masked his masculine, intoxicating one.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Tell me I’m not too late.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Are you the bride or did you catch this?”

“Neither. It sort of slapped me in the face.”

He chuckled—a deep and hearty laugh. “Maybe it’s fate’s way of telling you something.”

“Or maybe I just have bad reflexes,” I said, realising my ragged breathing and shaky hands gave away my feelings. I pulled the door handle several times. It wouldn’t release.

Then I heard the click.

“I’ll let you escape, if that’s what you want.”

I almost toppled out of the door, but managed to catch myself.

The overhead lights came on and I paused, much longer than acceptable, drinking in the sight of him. His deep voice turned me on, but his face was the stuff of orgasmic fantasies. He looked familiar, like maybe he’d already trespassed into my dreams, although I couldn’t place him. He nodded, looking completely composed in a dark, tailored suit and with a wry smile. He had all the ingredients for a delicious recipe—Ashton Kutcher’s sultry lips, Robert Pattison’s thick eyebrows, Mario Lopez’s jet black hair and Jason Statham’s broad chest. His hazel eyes were all his own though. They were so unique, the colour falling somewhere between golden sun and forest floor. I was grateful for the bouquet for the first time that night, because I needed it to fan myself.

“Good bye,” I said.

“Or maybe it’s hello…again,” he whispered, before I closed the door.

Again?

* * * *

Billie and I walked into the house. It felt empty already.

I scanned the room, unable to shed the memories that clung to every surface. The large mahogany table, scarred with cracks and scratches, that had served us so well. It accommodated additional chairs with no issue, serving honourably as the host of our family dish sessions. The cheap white bookcases against the far wall held our family photos, acting as a historical museum chronicling our lives. The antique technology that was our stereo, represented a great source of communication for our family. The corner with the pencilled lines, showing each girl’s growth every year since Marley was five and we’d moved here. This house had been above my pay grade on all sane levels, but I’d wanted it for my girls. It had been love at first sight since the moment I saw it, when I’d brought Marley trick or treating in the neighbourhood.