Hitched (16 page)

"We won't," Tate says.

"I'm not walking in these heels," I tell him, but he just grins.

"Got it covered," he says.

When we walk outside, our taxi is waiting for us. We make it easy on ourselves and head downtown to hit up all the bars in one night. I can at least walk that far. And maybe drinking will help this time in hell pass more swiftly.

I don't know what I'm expecting when we arrive at the first hole-in-the-wall dive, but I realize I'm disappointed after we're there for a few minutes. Nothing looks or feels familiar. I don't recognize anyone from our past. I guess I wanted this to be an opportunity to, what? Show off to the poor people of Ohio? As soon as I think this, I realize what an asshole I am and feel ashamed.

When the bartender serves us another round of shots, I down mine quickly and eye the bathroom. "Be right back," I tell Tate, sliding off the barstool.

I'm washing my hands when someone comes in. No, it's not Sebastian. And no, I don't for a moment think (wish) it is. Okay? Just let it go. I'm not thinking of Sebastian Donovan.

Of course that's all a lie. I can't stop thinking of him, and I wish I'd taken him up on his offer to come with me. As much as I love Tate, when we're home like this, it all feels like some kind of time warp, and I feel eighteen again and under the thumb of my oppressive but well-intended parents. I need someone from outside all the insanity to give me some perspective, to ground me in the real world, not these memories of yesterday.

But I do a double-take at the blonde who saunters in, because I recognize her. When she sees me, she smiles wider. "Kacie? Kacie Michaels? Is that you?"

I dry my hands and walk over to her. "Leslie, hi. How are you?"

"I'm good, and look at you! So fancy. What are you doing here?"

I don't have a ton of memories of Leslie. She and I didn't hang in the same crowd, but we had enough classes together throughout high school that we were on a first name basis with each other.

"My grandmother died. Tate and I came for the funeral."

"Oh my God, Tate's here? Jill and the other girls are going to flip! I don't think any of us have stopped crushing on him since y'all left us for greener pastures."

I smile, ready for this conversation to be over. "He'll be delighted to hear it."

She links arms with me as I leave the bathroom. "You have got to tell us everything!"

"Didn't you need to use the bathroom?"

"Oh, I'm fine. Just came to freshen up. No biggie. This is way more important."

When Jill and the other “girls” see us coming out, they form a… what would a group of giggling girls who aren't really girls be? A gaggle? That sounds about right. They form a gaggle and surround me. I'm getting dizzy trying to keep track of who's talking to me, and I gesture for Tate to come rescue me. They're here to see him more than me, and as soon as they realize he's coming over, the gaggle moves as one beast towards my poor brother.

But he raises his arms and smiles big, and I know he'll survive the encounter with his typical Tate charm.

"Ladies, how lovely you all look tonight. What a great surprise seeing you here."

I can't help but smile at how well he can work a room. It's a skill, for sure. I take my drink before one of the gaggle girls grabs it and head outside for some fresh air. I text Tate, who's now surrounded and unapproachable, and let him know where I'm going.

You're lucky I love you so much.

Don't play that card, bro. I know you love the attention. And all the tits.

I can hear him laugh out loud at my text from inside, and I smile, sit down at an empty table and sip my drink, enjoying the chill in the air. It's nice being somewhere that doesn't feel like an inferno even at night. For once I'm not sweating through my clothing.

Over the next few hours, a couple of men try to chat me up, but I'm not interested in talking, and they leave me alone. When Tate finally emerges with a few new lipstick stains, I'm ready to go, and it looks like he is too.

The house is dark when we arrive home, and I feel like a teen again, sneaking in after curfew and skipping the third step on the stairs because it always squeaks.

That night I dream about proms and kisses under bleachers and shotgun weddings in Las Vegas.

***

My mother doesn't mention the night before, and neither do I. This is her day to mourn, and I vow to myself that I will be on my best behavior. I will bite my tongue even if it bleeds, to keep from mouthing off to her, no matter how asinine her comments are.

We are all quiet in the car over. I check my texts repeatedly, but Sebastian hasn't replied to my last few. I shouldn't be upset by this. I know he has work this weekend and can't text me 24/7, but I do hope I can talk to him today.

By the time we reach the graveside, the weight of the event begins to hit me.

It's not a large gathering, but there are enough people that I spend a good thirty minutes before the service saying hi to people who have known me since I was a child. I try not to look at the actual casket, but I'm eventually left no choice as the crowd moves me toward my seat, right in front of the casket and the oversized portrait of my grandmother.

When I see her picture there, her white hair perfectly coiffed, her lips smeared with that red lipstick that smelled funny, her blue eyes so sharp, I experience a surprising lump of emotion in my throat. She's in that coffin right now. Her body, lifeless and hollow, is just lying there. Dead.

My bottom lip quivers, and I look up, fighting tears, and stare straight into the eyes of Sebastian Donovan.

I stand there, slack-jawed, until he comes over to me and pulls me into his arms. "Hello darling. I hope you don't mind that I'm here."

I wrap my arms around him and breathe in the deliciousness of his scent. "No. Not at all. But… how?"

He kisses me on my head, and I'm aware that everyone around me is staring, but I don't care one bit.

"I felt bad, you coming here alone, and I wanted to surprise you."

"I'm definitely surprised. And really glad you're here! Thank you."

I see my sister and mother staring at me, and I groan. "Prepare for the Michaels interrogation, though. And I hope meeting my family doesn't scare you away."

He chuckles under his breathe. "Darling, for you I'd fight dragons. A few family members are no problem."

"You haven't met my mother," I say as she comes over, clutching my sister's hand in hers. Tate is still talking to other family members and hasn't noticed the arrival of Sebastian.

Once my mom is close enough, she gives us a half-smile watered down by the grief still evident on her face. "Kacie, who is this handsome gentleman?"

"Mom, this is Sebastian. Sebastian, my mom, Martha, and sister, Jessica."

He shakes each of their hands. "Nice to meet you both."

My mom is clearly waiting for more information, but the priest arrives and is ready to start the service, so she returns to her seat, her focus back on the funeral.

Tate raises an eyebrow when he comes to sit next to me. "If I'd known you were bringing a date, I would have secured one for myself," he says.

"I didn't know. Now, hush, it's starting."

The service isn't long, but it does bring a tear or two to my eyes as friends of my grandmother speak about her charity work and how much she gave back to the community, especially in the last few years.

I realize that I didn't know the woman they're talking about. My memories of her are less than kind, but it seems she'd changed in her later years, and I feel a twinge of grief at the thought that now I'll never know the woman she chose to be toward the end of her life.

I steal a glance at my mother, who is dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. I've always viewed my mother through the lens of my own childhood, but we're both adults now. I wonder whom I will see in her if I change that lens. Surely she's more than what my memories have made her.

***

The post-funeral reception is at my parents' house, and I spend an hour introducing Sebastian to everyone as “my boyfriend,” which just sounds lame, but what else can I say? The guy I married in Vegas? The guy I'm fucking? There aren't any really great ways to introduce someone you're in a relationship with once you become an adult, unless you're engaged or married. Someone should do something about this.

My mom lays it on thick, asking how long we've been together, if we're serious, if we plan on getting married, when we plan on having kids.

I want to die.

I want the ground to open up and swallow me.

But Sebastian handles her with ease and doesn't seem the least bit put off by all the expectations and questions.

As guests start to leave, Sebastian offers to help clean up the kitchen, but my mom shoos him away. "The ladies can handle it."

Tate hands Sebastian a beer, and they retire to the couch in the living room, casting sympathetic glances at me as my mother pulls me into the kitchen to clean and do dishes.

Women's work, obviously.

Thing is, I don't mind helping out. I just hate it being an expectation of my gender. "Shouldn't Jessica be here helping too?" I ask.

"Billy got a bloody nose, so she's taking care of the babies."

Of course, the one way to get out of helping in the kitchen is taking by care of the kids. Her husband is probably on the sofa drinking with the rest of the men.

But this kitchen duty doesn't go as I expect. As soon as we close the door, my mother turns to me with tears in her eyes and hugs me. "I'm so glad you're here, honey. I can't tell you how much I've missed you."

I hug her back, and we hold the embrace longer than normal. I relax, letting myself enjoy the feeling of my mother's arms around me, offering her whatever comfort I can through my own touch.

She sniffles, pulls away, and wipes a falling tear. "I'm sorry. I'm a bit emotional today."

I kick myself again for being such a bitch. "You have every right to be. I can't imagine what you're going through."

She waves her handkerchief at me. "Oh, you'd be glad to see me go. I know I'm just an old woman meddling in affairs that no longer concern me."

Ouch. "You're my mother. It's part of your job description." I try for a lighthearted tone, matched by a smile, and her lips crack into a small grin for just a moment.

"You know, when you were little, I knew you'd grow up to be something great."

I cast my eyes down. "I'm sorry I disappointed you."

She reaches for my hands. "Oh, honey, that's not what I meant. You haven't. I'm so proud of you. Working your way through school, starting a successful business, making your way in the world. I think you're amazing. I just… "

She wipes her eyes again, her mascara smudging. "I just don't want you to grow up and find yourself lonely. I know women these days don't need men to make them happy, and that's probably a good thing. And being married isn't always ice cream and roses, that's for sure. But there's comfort in knowing that you have someone by your side, come what may, who sees you and shares in the many memories you'll make together over the course of a lifetime. There's a certain beauty to that, and I want so badly for you to have that someday."

"Mom, I—"

"But I see now that I didn't need to worry. I can see clear as the nose on my face that you've already found it." She smiles so big her face stretches with the effort. "I don't know why you wanted to keep him a surprise, but you have sure made this day a happy one despite the sadness."

She pulls me into another hug as I try to swallow the lump in my throat.

"I know you two are going to be so very happy," she says in my ear. "And a doctor, no less. What a perfect match!"

Tate and Sebastian bond during our trip home. I guess that's good. Maybe. I can't decide. I mean, if things last with Sebastian, then yes, I want my brother to like the man I end up with, obviously. But this leads to other questions of whether I'm ready for that or not, and I don't want to answer those just yet.

Still, it's a pleasant trip home, and I'm even happy to step into the arid Las Vegas heat. Mostly.

I think I did the right thing—not telling my mom about my doubts regarding my relationship. She seemed so happy, and it had been such a hard weekend for her. Sometimes it's better not to fight, to just walk away and let the other person think they've won.

Sebastian and I fall into our familiar routine once home. We finish each other's sentences, do cross word puzzles together in the morning paper, and cuddle on the couch at night, reading in silence.

I know Tate misses me, and I do pop home to spend time with him, and to work, but my nights are all Sebastian's.