Page 29 of Kiss, Kill, Thrill Me, Daddy

She lifts a hand, stopping me. “You had me at eye-candy. Let’s roll.”

Ten minutes later, we’re in the St. James family’s living room. I’m sitting on a loveseat while Tatum helps his mother with coffees. Across from me, Brody’s on the sofa with Scotty in his lap. Fiona is wedged between Brody and Tatum’s father on the sofa, slowly darting her gaze between Mr. St. James and myself, one eyebrow arched, as if silently questioning my judgment for insinuating the man is attractive. I suppose taste is subjective, but Mr. St. James is a beautiful man in my book. Sure, he dresses like a librarian from the nineteen-fifties, but it adds to the overall aesthetic.

The living room is quite lovely; the walls are a soft pink with white trim. Their sofa is white with pink buttons on the cushions. A glossy pink coffee table is the only thing separating Brody and Scotty from me. I’m still trying to understand why Scotty would tell Tatum’s mother we’re engaged. Though, a few of his recent admissions make sense now. Telling Tatum to avoid his mother’s calls. Suggesting we skip visiting them altogether. His apprehension to plan the wedding—a wedding meant to take place in a little over a week.

Scotty’s got his pink suitcase in front of him, and he keeps nervously darting his eyes at Tatum through the kitchen archway. Neither Scotty nor Brody have made eye contact with me since we exited the car earlier, but Scotty’s got a guilty expression on his face, and he’s clinging to Brody like a buoy in the middle of the sea. Brody, for his part, doesn’t look as if he feels guilty in the slightest. If anything, he looks aroused. His hand is cupping Scotty’s ass, and he’s leaned in, whispering what I canonly assume are filthy, lascivious words, because each time he says something, Scotty’s face grows redder.

“Alrighty-rooty,” Mrs. St. James says as she enters the room. She’s carrying a tray of coffee cups, and when she reaches the sofa, she hands a cup to each of the men and Fiona, barely paying them much notice. Her eyes are locked on Scotty, affection pouring out endlessly. She bends down and kisses Scotty’s forehead. “I fixed yours just the way you like it, baby. Cinnamon sugar, butterscotch syrup, and fresh cherries.”

Brody winces like the words pain him. “You put cherries in your coffee?”

“I’ve got a cherry for you, Daddy,” Scotty says in a seductive tone.

Mrs. St. James smiles cheerfully and turns around, setting the tray and coffees on the pink table before taking one for herself. Once she’s seated in the rocking chair across from me, she sips slowly, eyeing me up and down. “You know, you’re not someone I would have pictured Tatum with, but I can kind of see it now.” Before I can ask what that means, her eyes widen when she really looks at Fee for the first time. Her cheeks flush the longer she stares, and it almost seems like her motherly aura has faded, making way for a look I can’t quite read. “Aren’t you just adorable?” She points at Fee’s crop top. It’s a pink shirt with a Powerpuff Girl in the center, and the wordsSugar, spice, and everything naughtywritten in a chunky font. “That’s so cute! Tatum used to have dolls just like that.”

Fee snorts a laugh. “Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.” She stands and reaches across the coffee table, shaking Mrs. St. James’s hand. “I’m Fiona.”

Mrs. St. James studies Fee for a moment, a question half-formed on her lips. Whatever she wants to ask falls by the wayside when Tatum shuffles into the living room, carrying a cup of coffee and a scowl aimed right at me. I sigh, because even though I know he needs someone to funnel his anger at, of all the men in the room, I deserve his wrath the least.

It does not matter. I will allow it, because I know he’s worried right now. There’s an empty seat beside me, but he doesn’t take it. Instead, he crosses the living room and sits in an old recliner, the leather well-worn from time.

“So,” Tatum’s father says as he slowly sips his coffee. “Tell me everything. How did you meet? How long have you been seeing each other?”

Mrs. St. James smiles coyly at Scotty. “Scotty’s been awfully secretive during our nightly phone calls.”

“Nightly phone calls?” Tatum shrieks. “Nightly phone calls, Scotty?”

Scotty cuddles closer to Brody for protection. “My mom is dead, Tatum. You don’t get to be angry at me for wanting a relationship with yours.”

Tatum closes his eyes and nods. “I’m not mad you want a relationship with her, I’m angry that you told her Abi and I—” He snaps his mouth shut, and the corners of his mouth curl into a smirk. He stares right at his biffle, mouthing, “This means war.” Taking in a deep breath, he holds on to it for a beat before letting it out slowly. When it’s done, he forces a smile that doesn’t seem genuine in the slightest. “Forget I said anything.” He places his coffee cup on the end table nearest his chair before hopping up and heading toward me. I’m barely able to set my own coffee cup on the table before he plops down into my lap and wraps an arm around my shoulder, cuddling close.

Tatum’s mother makes a squeaking sound, and when I look over at her, tears are fresh in her eyes. “You two are just so precious together. Alright, start from the beginning. How did you meet?”

Tatum rolls his eyes. “Abi is Brody’s best friend. When Brody and Scotty ran away without telling any of us, Abi and Fee turned up at his apartment, trying to figure out why Brody left without so much as a word. I was there looking for Scotty and we just bumped into each other. Cue chemistry,” he says, twinkling his fingers like he’s attempting jazz hands. “Cue connection.Cue our undying love.” He looks over his shoulder at me and winks. “Right, babes?”

“Correct,” I say with a grin. “At first sight, sweetheart.”

He turns to Scotty, aiming his words at his mother. “Of course, Fiona was distraught, considering she’d just lost her husband.”

Tatum’s mother’s eyes widen as she stares at Fee. “I am so sorry for your loss. If it makes you feel any better, I’m sure he’s in a better place.”

Fee snorts, giving the woman a smile she’s never given me. “Hardly.” She flicks her thumb to the side, motioning at Brody. “He’s far closer than I’d like him to be at the moment.”

Mrs. St. James stares at Fee, then at Brody, looking confused. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m following.”

“Brody,” Fee says. “He’s my ex-husband.”

“Scotty stole him,” Tatum adds smugly. “While she was on vacation, no less. Just barged right in and laid claim to a married man.” He glares at Scotty, mouthing, “Checkmate, motherfucker.”

I’m not sure what sort of reaction Tatum’s expecting from his mother, but her focus is solely on Fee. “That’s horrible.” She stands from her seat and heads to the sofa. Once she’s there, she points at the place she was just seated. “Would you boys mind swapping with me?” Brody just grunts and stands, carrying Scotty for the move. Once Tatum’s mother is seated next to Fee, she takes her hand and gives a supportive smile. “Trust me, I know all about marital woes. If you ever need to talk, I’d be happy to listen.”

Fee does not offer her usual snarky reply. Instead, she gives the woman a rare smile. “That’s really sweet of you. I was never all that torn up about it.” She stares down at their connected hand and smiles. “I’ll definitely take you up on late-night chats, though.”

As they stare at each other with strange expressions, the sound of papers shuffling pulls us out of the moment, and everyone stares at Scotty, now seated on the floor, across thecoffee table. The suitcase Scotty’s been carrying around for three months is open, and it’s filled with papers he and Mr. St. James are reading intently.

“I like what you’ve done here, son,” Mr. St. James says. “Pink and chocolate are beautiful color choices.” He flips through the papers before pulling out a hand-drawn sketch of what I can only assume is meant to be Scotty and Brody standing at the altar. It’s a bit difficult to tell, considering the pair on paper are simply two stick figures who appear to be having sex in the center of the aisle. “As for this,” he says, pointing at the stick figures. “I don’t know how well our friends and family would react to you riding Tatum down the aisle like a horsey.”

Scotty shakes his head emphatically, pointing at the doodle. “Oh, no. That’s not me and Tatum, that’s Tatum and Abi once the wedding is over. They’re having anal sex. They enjoy being watched. It’s their thing.”

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