Page 28 of Lock 'em Down

Over their heads, I glare at Cami.

Her eyes are wide, her lips parted, and she looks like she’s about to pass out. But I can’t shake my anger. I tried to get in touch with her. I called, I texted, hell, I even searched for her on U of M’s social media handles.

Which, after extensive hours of research, I’ve concluded she doesn’t have. Tell me that’s not a red flag? A recent graduate of U of M, in a sorority, with no socials?

I narrow my eyes and she swipes her tongue over her bottom lip, nervous.

“This is my son, Leif,” Mom introduces me to Cheryl.

I smile warmly and embrace my mother-in-law. “It’s great to meet you, Cheryl.”

Cheryl introduces Stella to me and Mom. Mom hugs Stella in greeting and I follow.

I lean closer, letting her light floral perfume wash over me. Her hair smells like coconuts and her skin is warm where I press my thumb into her bare shoulder.

“Leif.” My name on her lips is a whisper. A warning and a plea.

“Where’s your ring?” I mutter, too low for our mothers to hear. I flash her the one she fashioned me out of little rubber bands. Yep, I haven’t taken it off because even though she disappeared, I made vows.

When I accepted her proposal for marriage, I believed she was giving me stakes. I trusted that she saw me for me and understood things on a level no one else cared to see. And then, she fucking disappeared, and I haven’t been able to chill out since.

So much for being laid-back. Cami gave me exactly what I asked for and yet, I didn’t anticipate this version of it at all.

She stiffens at the question, and I pull away before our mothers pick up on the strange vibe between us.

The four of us sit down at the table.

I rub my hands together and quirk an eyebrow at Cami.

This just got interesting.

Our server comes by before the awkwardness has the opportunity to properly settle over our table. The server eyes me for a long moment, no doubt trying to place me, and I hide behind my menu before she can call me out. Now is not the time for Cami to learn I play hockey for the Thunderbolts.

Mom and Cheryl each order a glass of wine so I ask for a beer.

Cami—cool, confident, carefree Cami—looks like she wants to vomit. She’s sitting on her hands and her shoulders are bunched around her ears.

If I was really meeting her for the first time, I’d think she was nervous around new people. But I know better. I’ve seen her in action, dancing in clubs. I held her hand when she got a tattoo. I’ve heard the sweet moans that fall from her lips when she comes.

Shit. I drop my eyes to the table as Cami says, “I’ll take a margarita, thanks.”

“A margarita?” Cheryl questions—like everyone else at the table didn’t toss out an alcoholic beverage.

How else are we supposed to endure this lunch-turned-drinks-turned-shitshow?

“How are you settling in, Cami?” Mom interjects, smoothing things over the way she’s apt to do. Either that or shaking everything upside down like a snow globe and watching where the pieces land.

I frown. Is this what she did to King and Jakob and Jensen? Oh, shit. Realization dawns as horror sweeps through me. I glare at my mother’s profile.

She was setting me up with Cami—for real. Not just as a, “hey I’d appreciate it if you’d occasionally check in on my friend’s kid since she just moved to town” way. But a, “I’m desperate for all my children to find love and settle down so I’m going to orchestrate for you to fall in love with this stranger.”

And then, that stranger is already my fucking wife.

I choke on my laughter and slap myself on the chest. Cami gives me a look.

Dammit, we’ll have to tell them. The moms will need to know the truth so that Cami and I have a chance to work through this like adults without our mothers trying to play matchmaker behind the scenes.

I push away from the table abruptly and all eyes swing in my direction.

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