Time to Control (15 page)

“No giggling,” he told me, bringing
his hands under my t-shirt to tickle me.
 
Of course, that had the opposite reaction, and I squirmed to make him
stop.
 
He enjoyed the squirming,
which I think was the point of the tickling.

I started kissing him again to
distract him and keep him from tickling me more.
 
It worked.

Eddie kept his hands under my
shirt, and I didn't mind.
 
My
position on top of him wasn't great to give me much to do with my hands, so I
just kept them where they were.

Eddie found something else to do
with his hands.
 
He brought his
right hand down to tease my waistband, and slid under it.
 
I groaned in pleasure, but didn't stop
him; I was getting lost in the sensations.
 
Eddie moved his hand around in between us, and touched me, and I
immediately spasmed, losing control.

Chapter Six

Eddie had not only bought his own
ticket for the trip to visit my parents, but upgraded my ticket so we could sit
together in first class.
 
“Dad never
gets me first class,” I gushed, settling back in the larger seat.

“Do you not buy your own tickets?”
He asked with a chuckle.

“Rarely,” I answered honestly.
 
“The only place I ever fly is back to Atlanta
to visit them, and they are usually so desperate to see me that they pay for
the ticket.
 
Besides, Dad travels a
lot for his job, so he gets a fair amount of frequent flier miles.
 
And besides, who pays for First Class?”

“I do.”
 
He kissed my forehead, and I wondered if
the bathrooms were bigger in first class.
 
I was always fascinated by the concept of joining the Mile High club,
but always wondered about the logistics.

“Peanut!” My dad came to give me a
hug.
 
“I'm glad you're all
right.”
 
I hugged him back, then
stepped back to introduce him.

“Eddie, this is my dad, Will
Kelly.
 
Dad, this is Edward
Valenti-Kirby.”
 
Dad looked at Eddie
appraisingly.

“It's good to meet you, sir,” Eddie
said, holding out his hand.
 
After a
minute, in which Eddie didn't flinch or pull back his hand, Dad shook it.

“Call me Will.”

“Eddie.”

Chests all thumped, Eddie tossed
the bags into the open trunk of the sedan, and climbed into the backseat.
 
I contemplated getting into the back
with him, but didn't think that would fly.
 
I got in the front instead.

“So what do you do for a living?”
Dad challenged Eddie, glancing back in the rear view.

“Technology consulting.
 
I investigate how an IT department
works, is run by management, examine their code, make sure their security is in
place, and make sure the personnel are qualified.
 
What specifically I look for depends on
why I was called in.
 
Usually I'm
called in as part of a merger or acquisition.”

“Remember how I told you why I was
going to New York?
 
That's what
Eddie does.”

“That pay well?”

“I am extremely well compensated
for my time, sir.”

Dad grunted, satisfied.
 

I managed to keep my parents
distracted until dinner, when I couldn't put off telling them the news any
longer.
 
We had gone out to eat at
an expensive local restaurant, Dad wanting to impress Eddie.
 
When everyone had a glass of wine, I met
Eddie's eyes across the table, and he nodded.
 
I took a deep breath.

“Mom, Dad, we have something to
tell you.
 
Eddie and I eloped.”
 
Dad immediately turned to glare at Eddie
for not asking him first.
 
Mom
immediately burst into tears.

“My baby got married and I didn't
see it!”

“Oh, Mom!” I sighed.
 
To distract my mother from the tears, I
held out my left hand for the requisite ring inspection.
 
Mom gasped, forgetting that she was
crying.
 
At times, dealing with her
like she was a child or animal worked well – saved me on grief and
drama.
 
Dad even was impressed when
he got a look at the ring.

“That must of cost a pretty penny.”

“Your daughter is worth every
cent,” Eddie responded smoothly.
 
I
smiled at him.

“Schroeder, you never told us you
were seeing anyone seriously,” Mom finally figured out.
 
“I didn't realize that you were dating
again after Roger.”

Eddie mouthed the name across the
table to me, but I shook my head.
 
That was a discussion better left until much, much later.
 
Like maybe never.

“How long have you known each
other?” Dad asked, suspicious.

I crossed my fingers under the
table, and told the story we concocted.
 
Dad wasn't happy, but Mom was nodding approval.
 
Good, maybe she could convince Dad it's
okay.

“So when's the post-wedding
reception party?” Mom said, getting into the wedding planning mentality as the
salads came.

“Um.”
 
I hadn't thought about that.
 
Of course they would want to throw a
party to show Eddie off to all of their friends.
 
I threw out a number.
 
“How about in two months?
 
That'd get us past some big projects at
work.”
 
Dad approved on this one,
but Mom didn't.

“There's no way I can have it
planned by then!”

“Mom, I can take care of the
planning,” I assured her.

“But we need to get the reception
hall, and caterers, and a dress, and a cake, and --”

“Lizzie, back off.
 
Women,” Dad said to Eddie as an aside.

“But it'll be easier for me to plan
since I'm here.”

I looked at Eddie in a panic.
 
“Mom, you just brought this up.
 
We haven't had time to talk, much less
choose a location yet.”

“Well of course you'll have it
here, it's home.”

“We're looking into a bunch of
options,” Eddie interjected, trying to diffuse the situation.
 
“There's here, Dallas, New York, my
parents home in Connecticut, and there's also exotic locations as well.” I
looked at him in surprise.
 
We
hadn't talked about it at all, but it sounded like he had thought of throwing a
party for our family and friends to celebrate with us.
 
Even though most couples in our
situation threw their reception at home, now that he mentioned it, having it
overseas was something he could afford, and I would love every minute of that.

“Exotic?” Dad asked.

“Sure.
 
A castle in Spain, a village in Ireland,
a villa in Italy.
 
There's lots of
options.”

“How would you expect everyone to
get there?” Dad challenged.
 
“That's
awful expensive, and rather rude to your guests.”

“Dad--”

“Sir, it is more than within my
budget to fly the guests over.”

That seemed to irk my father even
more.
 
“She's our daughter, and
we'll pay for her
 
reception
ourselves.
 
Since you've already
denied me the opportunity to pay for her wedding, or give her away.”

“Dad, you're making a scene,” I
clenched my teeth.
 
“Eddie and I
appreciate the gesture, but we are willing and able to pay for it.
 
A great wedding present from you would
be understanding that.”
 
I stared
him down, trying not to flinch.
 
Dad
finally backed down.

“We'll talk about it later.”

With him, later was never.
 
That was his way of ending arguments
with my mother and me growing up.
 
He'd say we'd finish the discussion at another time, but would never get
around to it.
 
Whatever the last
decision on the issue was, that would win.
 
I was glad Eddie and I had won this one.

“So this is your room, huh?”
 
Eddie chuckled as he put my bag down and
looked around.

“Hey, it could be worse,” I
protested.
 
Sure, the four poster
iron twin bed still had the white lace canopy on it.
 
And the dresser and matching desk had
daisies painted on them.
 
But at
least the pictures tore out of Tiger Beat no longer hung on the walls.
 
The faded off-white paint was still
marked from the years of tape though.
 

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make
fun of you,” Eddie apologized, taking me in his arms for a kiss.

“Mmm.
 
Not quite ready to forgive you yet.”

He pushed me, and I fell back on
the bed, giggling.
 
He landed on top
of me, continuing to kiss me.

A throat cleared in the open
doorway, and Eddie and I separated like caught teenagers.
 
“Towels are in the bathroom, and the
guest bed is made for Eddie,” Mom said, making it clear that we would not be
sleeping together under her roof, married or not.

“Absolutely, Mom,” I promised,
giving my mother a kiss goodnight.
 

Mom trapped me in a hug.
 
“Don't be pressured into a marriage if
you're not ready,” she whispered.

“I'm not, Mom.
 
I love him, and can't wait to spend the
rest of my life with him.”

“As long as you're happy.”

“I am,” I assured her.

I closed the door behind my
mother's retreating back, and locked it.
 
“Now where were we?”

The next morning, before sitting down to breakfast with my parents (another
meal I was dreading, but not as much as dinner the night before), Eddie and I
did our now normal trip to Elizabethan London.
 
It was a good thing my parents didn't
look in our suitcases – I had no clue how to explain our vintage garb.
We materialized into our usual alleyway, and went to our spot across the street
from Henry's flat.
 
We were there
for about ten minutes when the shopkeeper came out of the store and address
Eddie (apparently, I didn't exist).

“Can I help you with
something?”
 
He crossed his arms,
burly from swinging a hammer against an anvil all day.

“We're looking for a house,” Eddie
lied smoothly.
 
“We wanted to check
out the street, see if it would work for us.”
 
I didn't know if the man would buy that
excuse, much less understand what Eddie said.

To my surprise, the shopkeeper
nodded.
 
“I know a spot
available.
 
The cottage down next to
Matthew's tavern.”
 
We looked in the
general direction he pointed, and pretended to see what he meant.
 
There were no signs in front of the
shops and bars, so it was a guessing game to us as to what each store was from
the outside.

“Who do we talk to about it?” I
asked.

Eddie had to repeat the question
before the man answered.
 
I really
hated being female in this time period.
 

We were told to speak to Matthew,
and the shopkeeper went back inside.
 
Henry choose this time to head to work, so we followed, talking as we
went.

“Renting a house here isn't a bad
idea,” I admitted.
 
I'd technically
have three houses – my townhome in Dallas, Eddie's apartment in New York,
and one in London.
 
Granted, one was
separated by time and space, but the concept was quite lovely.
 
I wouldn't have to feel so tired; yes,
we could see the sights, but we could sleep in a bed for a while.
 
And 'sleep' together in the bed..
 
Hmmm.
 
I'd want a new mattress, without any
bedbugs or other vermin that probably infested every bed in London.
 
I didn't want creepy-crawlies crawling
around on me.

“Agreed.
 
I didn't mean it as I said it, but the
concept is growing on me.
 
We've
been lucky so far that it hasn't rained, but this is England.
 
It'll come soon.
 
We can watch from the house easier and
more comfortable than the street.
 
If it has a good view, that is,” he amended.
 

“Hey-ho!” A voice shouted in front
of us.
 
Crap – did we miss
Henry getting killed?

We shoved our away through the
crowd to the scene.
 
A horse had
gotten skiddish and reared, handing on an onion cart, sending onions flying onto
the street.
 
Urchins appeared out of
nowhere to grab the vegetables, not above stealing in a chaotic situation like
this.
 
I spied Henry on the far side
of the mess; safe and sound.
 
I let
out a sigh of relief, pointed him out to Eddie, and we made our way through the
mess to resume our following.

“We need to stay closer,” Eddie
leaned down to tell me, and I agreed.
 
If this had been when Henry was killed, we wouldn't have been able to
save him.
 
We trailed him, almost
right on his heels, for the rest of the journey to the theater.

When we were sure Henry was safe,
we high-tailed it back to Ironmonger's Lane.
 
The third tavern we went in was
Matthew's, and a serving wench directed us to find the landlord in the back
room.

Matthew took us over to the cottage
next door, and had to kick the door to get it unstuck.
 
“Tight fit,” he grunted, and threw open
the shutters from the inside to let some light in.

The simple building was just that
– simple.
 
The floor was dirt,
un-rushed.
 
A chimney took
center-stage on the back wall, but no cook stove existed (I wasn't even sure
they were invented yet).
 
There was
no beds, chairs, or furniture.
 
The
thatched roof was thick, and no sunlight streamed through.
 
The cottage would work to keep the rain
off our heads, and give us a safe place to travel to and from.