Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 14151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 71(@200wpm)___ 57(@250wpm)___ 47(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 14151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 71(@200wpm)___ 57(@250wpm)___ 47(@300wpm)
His mom, Clarice, is taking over our wedding plans with the help of Karen, an impossibly tall and beautiful wedding planner she had brought along. On the other hand, his father, also named Lincoln, is reserved and quiet. He rarely speaks unless directly spoken to. I can already feel the tension and awkwardness hanging in the air, and we haven’t even ordered our food yet. At this point, keeping the peace is my main goal, but as the night wears on, what I want for my wedding is becoming less and less heard, and Lincoln, my Lincoln, says nothing.
It's too late to back out now, I remind myself, forcing a smile as my future mother-in-law asks me yet another question I have no desire to answer. I have to make this work. I have to fit into this family. But deep down, I know this dinner is just the beginning of the challenges ahead.
As soon as we walk in the front door, I wheel on him. I held my tongue all night, but no more.
“What the hell was that?” I ask.
“What do you mean?” he asks, clueless.
“Your mother and the woman she brought to our family dinner.”
“The wedding planner?” he questions.
“I’ve already planned the wedding I want, and she’s taken over. I have no say in anything, and my poor mother, don’t get me started on that.”
“What do you want me to do about it?” he asks, and that phrase pisses me off like no phrase ever has before. I storm into the living room, head straight for the coffee table, gathering all my wedding magazines and the binder my best friend Trudy and I started making when we were in sixth grade. Trudy had her dream wedding to her dream guy last summer. He plays football for New England, so I still see her often, but she’s living her dream.
“Vegas!” I shout.
“Vegas?” he questions, sitting down on a bar stool.
“Yeah, Vegas. We should go to Vegas because I am not doing this,” I say, dramatically throwing my wedding books in the trash can. There’s no way I can do this, not like this. I’ll go insane.
CHAPTER 2
LINCOLN HUGHES
“Yeah, Vegas. We should go to Vegas because I am not doing this,” she declares, throwing her wedding books in the recycling bin. I continue to sit on the stool, waiting to see if she will either tell me what the hell is going on or take back what she just said, but when she does neither, instead is leaning against the wall in defiance. So it’s going to be one of those nights, huh?
Slowly, I get up and unbutton the top and bottom of my shirt. Unbuttoning the sleeves, I roll them up, never losing eyesight with my paramour. For a moment, I go back to the moment I saw her, and everything is as vivid as it was back then. I remember the moment I saw my petite Asian princess. It was like the air had been sucked from my lungs. I thought I was hallucinating for a moment because I fell asleep watching Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, and perhaps I haven’t awakened from that slumber. But no, she was real then and with her eyes getting bigger and bigger because she knows she has pushed me too far, she is more real now.
Her momentary doubt lasts a second, but then, to her credit, she steels, and the defiance is back. I admire that about her, but it is earning her a spanking right now. When I am close enough, I crowd her into the wall. “Vegas huh? That better be a fucking joke, baby. Or is that what you are reducing our union to? All because you are being a brat right now?” Her nostrils flare at my use of the word brat. Her hand pushes against my chest, which is like a bug zapper going straight to my cock any time any part of her touches me. Her cute little scrunched-up face frowns at me.
“You’re being an insensitive jerk.” That momentarily stops me. It's not the jerk part. She’s used to that. But the word insensitive is what makes me stumble. I never want her to think I don’t care. Not for the first time since we left my parents have I wondered what I missed tonight that led us right here. But she also knows I cannot fix it if she doesn’t talk to me and tell me when something bothers her. Like I have told her before, I am not a mind reader nor a psychic and have no desire to be one.
“Be careful, baby. You don’t want to poke the bear.” I warn her, holding her hand to my chest while leaning further into her.
“No. I want to poke your mom in her big fat snooty mouth.” Well, shit. What the hell happened?