And One Last Thing... (20 page)

“You are just not giving up on this, are you?”

As he shook his head and kissed my neck, I slid my hand in the bathroom drawer, searching around for condoms. He lifted my butt, securing my legs around his hips. I braced my hands against the counter and thought that this was something I would never have done before meeting Monroe.

“You are a very bad influence on me,” I whispered as he slipped into me, inch by inch.

******

Monroe went out to smooth things over with his family while I showered. I reeked of spilled coffee and hurried, quiet sex, and that just wasn’t the way I wanted to spend the morning. By the time I emerged from the bedroom, fully clothed in a very modest turtleneck, Monroe’s mother was sliding cinnamon rolls out of the oven and reminding her youngest son, Andy, that setting the breakfast table didn’t mean tossing the dishes in the middle of the table and walking away. Monroe’s father was looking through the bookshelves for titles he hadn’t read yet. And Monroe and his oldest brother, Matt, were arguing over the most efficient way to get kindling started in the fireplace, which sounded remarkably like a scene from The Great Outdoors.

I walked into the kitchen and handed Janice Monroe a trivet for the hot pan and dragged a bunch of mismatched juice glasses out of the cabinet. “I’m so sorry about earlier, Mrs. Monroe. Or I guess, it’s Dr. Monroe, isn’t it?”

“Call me Janice, sweetheart,” she said, patting my shoulder. “We’re all Dr. Monroe, so it could get confusing otherwise. And don’t worry about earlier. I raised three boys. There’s not much you can do to shock me.”

“Oh, good. But, for the sake of my conscience, I should probably say I’m sorry I flipped out and cursed in front of you. Not the best first impression, I know. I just never imagined meeting Monroe’s parents.”

“You didn’t think he had any?”

I pursed my lips. “I’d imagined some sort of hatching scenario.”

She laughed. “Someday I’ll tell you about the time I came into Franny’s room early one morning to find his homecoming date -”

“That’s not a story we need to share,” Monroe said, striding into the room and giving his mother a warning glance. Janice glared right back and pushed a carton of juice into his hands.

“So early-morning raids are habit with you?” I asked. “Wait, did you just call him Franny?”

Monroe groaned. “Mom, we’ve talked about this. I’m not Franny, especially in front of other people.”

“Well, his father was already Frank. He refused to go with Francis or Bernard,” Janice said, turning her attention back to the stove, where she was heating a pan for eggs. “It’s a perfectly acceptable nickname.”

“Did people call you Franny in high school?” I asked. He scowled at me. “So much of your personality makes sense now.”

“Do you see why I went with Lefty, even if it took getting shot in the ass?” he asked as his mother swatted at him with a dish towel.

“You get out of here so we can talk about you,” she said.

“Actually, I think I’m going to head on home, give you guys some space. I don’t want to intrude on a family thing,” I said.

“Don’t be silly!” she exclaimed while Monroe practically barred my escape route with his body. “I’ve seen you half-naked. You know about my son’s embarrassing, effeminate nickname. Franny likes you enough to declare an embargo on certain stories from his adolescence. You’re practically family now, anyway.”

“You have strange standards for family membership,” I told her.

She grinned, her eyes twinkling just like her son’s, and handed me a mixing bowl and a carton of eggs. Monroe hesitated for a total of two seconds, shot me an apologetic look over his shoulder, and then abandoned me like a rat running from a sinking ship.

Coward.

“I should apologize to you, Lacey,” she said in a softer, more serious tone. “Franny didn’t tell us he was seeing anyone. Otherwise, we would have had the sense to call. Don’t take that personally, he doesn’t tell us about anyone he’s dating. Ever since Sarah, he hasn’t made a habit of…”

“Making friends with ladies?” I suggested helpfully.

“Yes, thank you,” she said, chuckling. “It’s obvious my son likes you very much if he lets you invade his inner sanctum. I don’t remember the last time someone besides family was allowed in his home. So I want you to know -”

“Mom?” Monroe called from the living room. “Don’t forget that it’s Matt that likes fried eggs. The rest of us like scrambled.”

“Like I could forget something like that!” she called back.

She smiled at me. “Ten minutes together and it’s like the boys are kids again. Lacey, I want you to know -”

“Hey, Mom?” Monroe called again. “Are you making toast? Because I have a new jar of strawberry jelly in the cabinet.”

Janice frowned. I rolled my eyes and said, “I’ll get the toast.”

“Anyway, Lacey,” Janice started again just as Monroe yelled, “Hey, Mom! There’s grape jelly, too, in the fridge.”

“I know exactly what you’re doing, Francis Bernard Monroe!” she said, storming into the living room, hands on hips. “Don’t for one second think you can keep Lacey and me from having a civilized conversation.”

I laughed as Monroe insisted it was worth a shot and tried to convince his mother to declare a moratorium on all stories about him that did not extend from events of the past year. His mother ignored him and turned back toward the kitchen.

“It was a little ham-handed, son,” Monroe’s father told him, shaking his silver head in disdain. “You should know by now the best way to distract your mother is by breaking something semi-valuable in another room.”

“Or pushing one of your brothers down the stairs,” Matt muttered in a resentful tone that labeled him as a “pushee.”

“Or hiding the incriminating wrappers from her secret chocolate stash in your brother’s room,” Andy suggested.

“I knew that was you, you little bastard,” Monroe griped.

“I don’t know whose children they are,” Janice told me. “They’re the product of terrible parenting, obviously. They just showed up on our doorstep one day and we took them in.”

By this time I was leaned against the counter, laughing so hard I had a stitch in my side.

******

We finally got breakfast on the table, after Janice insisted her sons and husband “get off their chauvinistic asses and help.” I suddenly understood where Monroe got his unique grasp of the English language. There was quite a bit of plate shuffling, tossing of cinnamon rolls across the table, and fights over the “good” strips of bacon, but eventually everyone was leaning back in their chairs and moaning about eating too much.

“So what exactly do you do when your family comes to visit?” I asked Monroe quietly as his brothers loudly argued over the last cinnamon roll.

“Well, my dad comes up with a big itinerary for the day. Hiking, renting a pontoon boat, visiting that apple orchard off County Line Road. He usually ends up falling asleep right after breakfast and napping through lunch. My brothers watch basketball games. I spend most of the day fighting Mom off of my laundry hamper. We play a couple of board games while my dad snores. Mom makes a big dinner, we eat, and they all go back to their motel room, leaving me to appreciate the silence of my little home.”

“Wow,” I marveled. “Still sounds like more fun than Christmas with the Terwilligers.”

He snickered and tugged gently on my hair. I looked up and found that Matt was staring at me.

“Do I have jelly on my face?” I asked.

“No, it’s just you look really familiar. Where do I know you from?” Matt asked.

“I just have one of those faces,” I said, shooting a covert glance at Monroe.

“No, I saw you somewhere, like on TV or something. Were you on one of those reality dating shows?”

I tried to play it off with a laugh, while the blood drained out of my face. “Yes, I must confess, I was that girl who threw up while making out with Bret Michaels on Rock of Love.”

“No, that girl was a redhead,” Andy said. “But now that you mention it, Lacey does look familiar.”

“Drop it, guys,” Monroe warned.

“Oh, my God, you’re that crazy e-mail chick!” Andy exclaimed.

I froze, with an expression akin to Bambi caught in headlights.

“Andrew, the family policy is that we don’t call people crazy until we’ve known them at least twenty-four hours,” Janice said sternly.

“What is he talking about?” Frank asked.

“Nothing,” Monroe growled, shooting his brothers a face-melting death glare. “They have Lacey mixed up with someone else.”

“No, crazy e-mail chick’s name was Lacey, too. I remember now,” Matt said. “You know, the nurses at my office printed that out and taped it to the refrigerator in the break room? You’re like a role model to them. I can’t wait to tell them I met you. I will admit that while the actual letter scared the crap out of me and my Y chromosome, I thought it was pretty awesome that you nailed your husband like that. He sounded like a scumbag.”

“What are you talking about?” Janice demanded.

When Monroe opened his mouth to protest again, I put my hand on his arm. “It’s not like they can’t go home and google me,” I said. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “A few months back, I found out my husband was cheating on me -”

“And she sent everybody he knew an e-mail busting him out as a ‘spineless, dickless wonder’!” Matt exclaimed. “It was hilarious!”

“Actually, it was ‘spineless, shiftless, useless, dickless wonder,” I mumbled, unable to look up at the elder Monroes’ faces.

Andy picked up my hand and pressed it to his chest. “You made me laugh until coffee came out of my nose; therefore, I pledge my undying loyalty to you. In fact, if you and Franny break up, I’d be glad to be your shoulder to cry on -”

Monroe cuffed Andy on the back of the head. “Keep your shoulders, and all your other parts, away from my girlfriend.”

At the use of the word “girlfriend,” I stiffened, particularly given Andy’s big announcement. Monroe’s parents probably weren’t going to be thrilled that his new… “special lady friend” had recently been featured on David Letterman’s Top Ten Women Who Make Your Wife Look Better list.

“I remember reading something about that. Your husband cheated on you?” Monroe’s father asked. “Left you for another woman?”

I nodded, mentally calculating exactly how much time I would allow to pass before succumbing to embarrassment and bolting for the door.

“Well, he’s obviously an idiot,” Frank said dismissively, before sipping his coffee. “Now, I’m going lie down for a minute to rest my eyes, and then we are going to take that scenic trail around Cosgrove Point.”

“Right,” Matt snorted.

“We’ll see you around dinnertime, Dad,” Monroe said.

“Not this time!” Frank said. “This time I’ve set the alarm on my watch.”

“You don’t have an alarm on your watch, honey,” Janice said as Monroe’s dad made himself comfortable on the couch.

“Scrabble or Trivial Pursuit?” Andy said.

“Surprise me,” Matt responded.

“Not Trivial Pursuit, guys. You always end up fighting over obscure Civil War trivia and then my coffee table ends up broken,” Monroe moaned.

“Wait, that’s it?” I asked, as Matt and Andy took their plates to the sink. Janice picked up the dirty cutlery and started loading the dishwater. “That’s the sum total of your parents’ reaction?”

Monroe shrugged. “Yeah. My dad worked in an ER for thirty years before going into family practice. Mom works in a state run psychiatric hospital. Short of bloodshed, not much you can do will shock them. Also, you may have noticed that my family places a lot of value on an effective insult. In fact, your stock has probably just gone up, as far as they’re concerned.”

“Then why did you keep telling your brothers to shut up?”

“I didn’t want them to embarrass you. I know you don’t like talking about the newsletter. I figure today’s been uncomfortable enough for you.”

“This feels like a trick,” I told him. I pursed my lips. “Your mom isn’t going to ambush me in the kitchen and tell me my crazy, damaged ass has no business near her baby boy?”

He shook his head. “She may ask you to do a reading of your newsletter, but other than that, no.”

“I wouldn’t mind reading it if you have a copy,” Janice said as she came back to the table. “Andy only shoots coffee out of his nose for high comedy.”

“Oh, no.” I gave an uncomfortable little laugh. “It’s not that funny. Andy’s just exaggerating.”

I looked up to find Monroe silently mouthing, “It’s on my desk,” and poked his shoulder. “You’re no help at all.”

Janice leveled me with those sharp, hazel eyes. “You know, I see a lot of desperate, damaged women in my work. Women who let the hurts and disappointments push them down until they can’t find the will to go on living, much less stand up for themselves. As a psychiatrist, I’m supposed to say that indulging a desire for revenge isn’t healthy, that it would be better to focus on healing and rebuilding your own life. As a woman, I say that well-executed payback is an important ingredient in healing and closure is required before you can rebuild anything. If you managed to do that without slandering or hospitalizing anyone, I say good for you.”

The approval in her tone had me blushing - a pleasant, warm sensation spreading through my chest that suddenly flushed cold. I wasn’t ready for this. I wasn’t ready for family breakfasts and inappropriate stories from Monroe’s adolescence. I didn’t want to have to work to get another mother’s approval, to make sure her expectations were met and her birthday gifts had appropriately sappy cards attached.

I felt a panic akin to claustrophobia. I wasn’t ready to be anyone’s girlfriend. Even though I was having the tender, green beginnings of those feelings toward Monroe, I wasn’t ready to love someone else. I couldn’t think about him in the long-term, whether it was a month from now or a year from now. I just wanted a simple, uncomplicated relationship with my companionable, sexy neighbor. And if he became more than that, a sweet guy with smartass brothers and a tragically feminine first name, I wouldn’t be able to manage it. I recognized that these were selfish, shallow thoughts, but I also recognized that they were true. And I wasn’t going to be getting around them any time soon.