Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
I can feel her lipstick smudge on my cheek, and I wait for her to look back at the bar before I wipe it off.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” I question them, not hiding the surprise and wariness. My eyes flicker to the entrance again, and this time it’s a different kind of anxiety running through me. They saw her picture. If she walks through that door, I’m fucked.
“We just wanted to see you,” my mother says in a sweet voice, but I don’t buy her southern charm for a second. Setting her purse in front of her, both palms on the bright floral fabric, she adds. “Can’t a mom just want to see her son?”
“You just saw me, Ma.”
My mom smacks my hand playfully, “You know what I mean.”
“Did you get your suit fitted?” my sister asks me, a real sense of urgency in her voice. Maybe this is just for the wedding. They aren’t trying to worm their way into whatever Grace and I have going on. It’s just the wedding, I convince myself and I would relax but… no, I did not get my suit fitted.
I nod my head once, but I can’t look her in the eye as my mouth opens. Fucking hell. I scratch the back of my head, looking toward the door again and letting out a sigh.
“Charles Theodore,” my mother scolds me, “you need to get your tux fitted!” She smacks me on the arm, yet again, but this time with the tall menu on the table. Her lips are pressed into a thin line, but luckily I don’t have to respond.
“It’s a suit,” Ali says as she yanks the menu from Ma’s hands. “I don’t want tuxes.” She says the last line as if she’s said it a million times to our mother before and I know she has.
“I don’t understand you, girl,” Ma shakes her head, but there’s a playfulness to her tone.
“Can I get y’all anything to drink?” I hear James over my shoulder, and I turn to take him in. He shouldn’t have left the bar, but a quick look shows that it’s just the regulars. And it’s not like Maggie is going to come over here. Everyone knows Ma and Ali… and the rest of my family.
“No, no thank you,” Ma says and pushes off the table, “we’re having a late dinner down at Iron Grill.” An immediate sense of relief comes over me as I realize they’re leaving. “I just wanted to stop in and say hi to my baby boy.”
I can’t help the flaming blush rising to my cheeks. I’ll be sixty years old and she’ll still be calling me her baby boy, I know it. Ma and Ali stand first, Ali lamenting how she’s starving with all this stress and that I need to get my suit fitted. Immediately.
Thank the good Lord they’re leaving; standing up to give them both a quick farewell hug I finally feel relieved. And that’s when I see Grace walk in from the corner of my eye.
Fuck.
My heart hammers in my chest, and it beats even faster when Ali follows my line of sight and squeals.
“No way! Grace!” A wide smile accompanies Ali as she practically runs to greet a wide-eyed and surprised Grace a few feet from the entrance. Every red alarm bell goes off in my head. Ali’s got her in a hug before Grace knows what hit her.
With Ma in tow, I scold Ali, “Let the woman breathe Ali?”
“So-” my sister lets a now-catching-on Grace go when I stop beside them, feeling caught in a trap. It was a coup. I know it and I stare at both of them, my mother and my sister, letting them know as much, but neither looks at me, all of their attention is on my poor sweetheart. Shit.
“Hi there, Grace,” Ma’s voice is lower than usual as she takes Grace in. Her eyes travel down the blush-colored blouse Grace is wearing, and a smile finally ticks up on Ma’s face.
Damn right. There’s not a single reason Ma shouldn’t like Grace. She’s smart and sweet from head to toe. And looking to really settle down.
Ma should like that, even if I don’t.
“Hi,” Grace looks between the two of them, visibly swallowing as she moves the clutch in her hands back and forth and then stares at me with a pleading look.
“Just go along with it, sweetheart,” I whisper in her ear as I give her a small peck on the cheek, followed by a hug. All for show for my family. Just go along with it. Please. That little peck though. It does something to me. Something that lights up every nerve ending in me.
“Ali,” I say, looking at my sister and then Ma, “Ma, this is Grace.”
“It’s lovely to meet you.” Ma and Ali say almost at the same time before Grace can get a word out. The nervousness is coming off her in waves.