Not Quite A Bride (8 page)

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Authors: Kirsten Sawyer

BOOK: Not Quite A Bride
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13
The Linchpin
I
wake up the next morning with a good feeling. Despite being involved in the biggest lie I've ever told and losing my best friend, I have an overwhelming sense that all is right in the world. I roll over and look at the clock: 9:27. I smile to myself. Logan's plane landed seven minutes ago. I'm positive it landed safely and on-time because if it had been thirty seconds late my mother would have called, hysterical. She is a complete wreck if any of her children are not on the ground.
I am a complete bundle of nerves, energy, and excitement. I actually can't believe I slept as late as I did ... I think teachers' bodies know that they have to sleep in throughout the summer to make up for the lack of sleep during the school year.
Tonight's family dinner is really the linchpin of my whirlwind romance with Justin. My parents, Jamie, and Logan really have to love him completely tonight because we will be getting engaged very soon. It's hard to believe how fast time is flying.
I'm not worried about my mom—I had her at “kind soul.” And I'm definitely not worried about my sister— Justin had her at “hello,” and we probably could have gotten her blessing to marry right there on the spot when he agreed to teach her prenatal yoga to make the delivery easier. I swear, Jamie is always looking out for herself.
I feel like my dad and Logan will be a bit trickier. My dad is a typical dad ... overprotective of his firstborn. Plus, he and Justin don't really have that much in common. My dad loves sports and his family. Justin isn't too into sports, and as far as Dad knows, could be doing things to me that he wouldn't approve of. It does give me hope that Dad learned to like Bryan, though ... they have absolutely nothing in common. Bryan's whole life (besides Jamie and the baby on the way) is computers and Dad is convinced computers will be responsible for the end of human interaction. I don't admit it in front of Bryan, but sometimes I have the same fear. And at least I know that Justin and Bryan can bond over their fear of Dad. Logan is the wildest wild card. I haven't seen him in months and I'm kind of afraid that he'll have animosity toward Justin simply because he doesn't want to share my attention on his homecoming night. I guess there is nothing I can do ... just hope for the best.
I spend the day trying to distract myself and make the clock move until it's time to head home for the dinner. I do an exercise DVD ... well, part of it—the fun parts. I clean and collect enough fluffy white cat hair to make Tiffany a mini sidekick a la Mini Me in
Austin Powers
. It's gross. I paint my toenails and wear a face mask. I try to organize my underwear drawer ... I give up after a while and watch my soap opera.
It's a little embarrassing, but I adore soap operas. I'm not so addicted that during the school year I TiVo them or anything (okay, sometimes I do), but they are definitely one of my summer vacation indulgences. I mean, where else do you see a girl's father get shot to death at her own wedding, then her husband gets killed by his drug-lord mother, and then a year later the girl finds out that the murdered father wasn't her real father when she is an exact rare-blood match to save her true biological father's life? It's pure entertainment and it really helps the day fly by.
Plus I have one student to tutor in the afternoon, so that should help the day move along, too. The school I teach at is highly competitive, which leads parents to go to insane lengths to get their children admitted to the kindergarten. They even hire teachers, like me, to tutor their five-year-olds for the entrance exam ... which includes things like bouncing a ball, drawing pictures of your family, and tying your shoes. It's crazy, but it is definitely good money.
In the afternoon, Logan calls to tell me he's home, napped, fed (thanks to Mom), and eager to see me. I tell him that I am more excited and we argue over who is the most excited until I hear Mom in the background summoning him for another meal. Our mom loves to feed her offspring. Lucky for her, she got kids with never-ending bellies.
Then I call Jamie to tell her that Logan is home, napped, fed, and eager to see us. Then Jamie and I argue over who is more excited to see Logan. We're a close family and it was hard having an ocean separate us from our baby brother for so long.
The day moves surprisingly fast and before I know it, it's time to get ready. I'd laid my outfit on my bed first thing this morning after I made it. Yes, I'm one of those people who a) makes her bed every day, and b) lays out outfits.
Right on time (he's so awesome), Justin gets to my apartment. He looks great in khaki pants and leather flip-flop sandals with a short-sleeved, button-front shirt. It's so nice to have a boyfriend who isn't totally clueless about what to wear. I'm probably his worst nightmare because I have a clothing crisis practically every time I leave the house.
I am so excited to see Logan that I don't waste time with my usual “Oh my God I have to change three times before we go” routine, and Justin hardly steps foot in the apartment before we step out to pick up Jamie and Bryan. They don't live that far from me, so we walk to their apartment. As I'm hauling ass down the street, I hear Justin flip-flop-flipping and having a hell of a time keeping up with me. We finally get to Jamie and Bryan's, in record time with Justin slightly out of breath, and find them waiting outside.
“Hi, Molly,” Bryan says. “What time did you tell Jamie you would be here?”
“Five o'clock, on the dot,” I tell him.
“And what time is it now?”
I look at my watch: “4:59.”
“That's what I thought.”
“So, what's the problem?” I ask.
“I'm just wondering why I needed to stand out here on the street for fifteen minutes.”
I shrug and look at Jamie.
“In case she was early!” Jamie explains, “Come on ... let's go!”
Jamie might actually be more excited than I am. She's late more often than I am, and I don't think I've EVER known her to wait outside somewhere for anyone. If she's meeting you for coffee and you aren't there when she gets there, she'll go to a bookstore and browse long enough to be sure you get to the coffeehouse first.
The four of us hail a cab and pile in. Jamie takes the front since she claims to take up more room now (never mind that Justin is over six feet tall and Bryan isn't short, either, and she is
just
starting to show). It actually looks adorable, and, as I knew she would, she has the cutest maternity clothes.
We get dropped off at Grand Central Station just in time to jump on the train that heads up to our family home. Our parents bought our house when I was five and Jamie was two. It was a wonderful home to grow up in and a perfect place to come back and visit. It's only a short train ride out of the city, but once you get there it feels like it's thousands of miles away. The houses are spread out and there is foliage like you wouldn't believe. As I stare out the window, I watch the view change from city to country and I start to feel homesick. It's a funny thing—when I'm in the city, I never feel homesick for my parents or my childhood home, but when I'm on the train going home, I cannot wait. I am yearning to walk through the big front door and smell my mother's cooking. And having Logan there waiting for me is just icing on the cake.
I steal a glance at Jamie and I can tell by the way she's glued to her window that she feels the same way I do.
When the train finally pulls into the station we are like two little girls. We fly out of the train, leaving the men behind, and run down the platform and into our daddy's arms. Even though it hasn't been that long since we saw him at Brad and Claire's engagement party, there is something different about seeing him on home turf. His arms feel so good and he smells so familiar. Bryan and Justin make their way through the crowd that Jamie and I avoided by pushing to the front to be the first people off the train and they both shake hands, warmly, with Dad. We all pile into Dad's forest green Explorer and head the few miles to our house.
Jamie is, of course, in the front. I swear, she is hardly showing ... by the time she is nine months she's going to insist on having whole city blocks to herself. I'm in the back, sitting bitch between Justin and Bryan. I'm trying to point out things of interest to Justin as we speed along.
“There's my elementary school,” I point right, over him, nearly taking off his nose.
“There's the park where I lost my first tooth,” I point left, poking Bryan in the ear.
“Up there is the Dairy Queen I went to on my first date,” I point through the two front seats.
We ride along like that until we approach our house.
“And this,” I say proudly, “is our house.”
We excitedly pour out of the Explorer and I grab Justin's hand and drag him onto the porch. Our house has one of the greatest porches of all time. It spans the entire length of the house and has two big wooden hanging swings.
Jamie reaches the front door first and throws it open, yelling, “We're home!”
As soon as the door opens, the comforting smell of home explodes in our faces and we can't help but be drawn in. The house smells like a mixture of furniture polish, peach cobbler (our mom's summer specialty), homemade barbeque sauce, and our old dog, Skipper.
Skipper, even in her old age, is the first to bound out and greet us. My parents got her my senior year of college, so I never got to live full-time with her, but I can always tell that she loves me best by the way she greets me when I come home. Skipper is a yellow lab, named after Barbie's little sister, but she's starting to look like an old lady now. She's a little heavier than she used to be, and the fur on her face is turning white.
Jamie and I get down on the ground to greet her until Mom walks in, wiping her hands on her apron (I swear, she looks like a picture out of a country-living magazine), and we jump up to hug her. We're thrilled to see our dog, we're thrilled to see our mom, but really ... they aren't who we are there to see.
“Where is he!?!” I yell.
“He was jet-lagged, so he took a nap, but I woke him a little while ago and he was getting in the shower,” my mother explains in her patient-teacher voice.
Jamie and I groan ... we might be patient with our students, but with our family we immediately revert to our childhood ways.
“Oh well,” I moan. “Come on, Justin, I'll show you around the house.”
After Justin properly greets my mother and gives a satisfactory amount of attention to Skipper, I take him by the hand and lead him through the living room. I glance over my shoulder and can see my mother take my father's hand and beam at me with Justin. Another pang of guilt hits me ... I really do hate that they have to be involved in this whole lie.
Justin and I are standing on the back deck. To the unsuspecting person we are whispering sweet nothings to each other; in reality, we're having a run-down of the evening so far. We both agree that things are going really well. I hear someone open the French door behind us and I turn around to find Logan standing there. He is such a sight for sore eyes—honestly, my eyes tear when I see him. He looks amazing; months of backpacking through Europe, lugging all his belongings, have left him tan and buff. Logan, Jamie, and I all look very similar—dark hair and blue eyes, but unlike Jamie and I, who are, let's say vertically challenged, Logan is tall like our dad. Now, with some definition in his muscles, he looks so handsome.
I squeal with delight and run into his open arms. He grabs me and whirls me around in a hug. I cannot believe how strong he has gotten. Once he sets me down, I turn back to Justin.
“Logan,” I say, “this is Justin.”
Justin smiles warmly. “It's about time I met you, man—your ears must be burning morning, noon, and night.”
“I could say the same thing to you,” Logan replies.
Oh, yippee! They seem to be hitting it off.
The rest of the evening goes spectacularly well. We sit on the patio in the warm sunset eating tons of my dad's amazing barbeque and corn, and then my mom's amazing peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream and caramel sauce. Logan shows pictures and shares stories from his trip, and Justin fits in like a member of the family. It doesn't even feel like an effort to pretend that he is my boyfriend because in a lot of ways, he is. Actually, in every way but the bedroom way he is. He shares my life, we've become wonderful friends, I can count on him to be there for me, and I feel like it works both ways. It definitely stopped feeling like a business arrangement some time ago.
After we're all stuffed and nearing food comas, Bryan reminds us that some people have to get up and go to work in the morning. Jamie and I groan, but we take the cue to say our good-byes.
First Skipper, who I now see is fat because Mom and Dad have completely lifted the “no people food” rule. As kids, if we fed any animal from the dinner table we were at risk of receiving the death penalty. Now, Skipper sits between Mom and Dad, cleaning up mounds of “accidentally dropped” food. Next we hug Mom and collect our Tupperwares of leftovers to take back to the city. Finally we say good-bye to Logan. I can tell by the way he sends Justin off that he definitely likes him and it makes me so happy. Even though Justin isn't really going to be my husband, he will be around for at least a year and hopefully we'll be able to stay friends after that, so I want my brother to like him. We then pile back in the Explorer and do our journey in reverse ... including the cab to Jamie and Bryan's, leaving them out front and walking back to my apartment. It has gotten really late and we are both beyond exhausted.

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