Page 95 of Sex. Love. Marriage.
Aunt Dee chuckles. “At least we got his first time out of the way.”
(The best man doesn’t always win. Ask Jonas.)
WITH PUDDLES OFwater on tablecloths, dresses and tuxes drenched in water, you’d think this wedding is done for, right? Nope. We’re in Texas. Rules don’t apply. I have a feeling it’s just getting started. The preacher is talking with Aunt Dee, hopefully not eating her cake pops, and the bride’s dad is fuming. He also happens to be my father-in-law and hasn’t said a word to me yet.
Don’t be so surprised. He still hates me.
“I can’t believe this bullshit. I paid for a wedding,” he grumbles, drinking straight from a bottle of whiskey. “She’d better marry someone tonight.”
In the midst of Kelly and I putting our drunk ten-year-old to bed to sleep it off, guess who comes out of hiding? Justice and Kelsey. After three hours. I have no idea what they were doing in there, but if I had to guess, fighting. And maybe fucking, because in my experience, they usually go hand in hand.
Speaking of fucking, I wish Kelly and I were alone because do you know what’s better than sex?
Make-up sex.
It’s a proven fact.
So I tell her my thoughts with my hand on her bare thigh. “Would it be frowned upon if we snuck upstairs?” Wrapping my arm around her chair, I peek down the front of her dress. “I think I need to see these hangy-down tits in my face.”
“Stop.” Smiling, she pushes me away playfully. “We can’t just sneak off. Oliver is drunk, Sevi is licking himself next to a dog, Fin spit on the preacher, and Hazel is twerking.”
I whip my head to the dance floor to see that my five-year-old daughter is in fact twerking. “Jesus Christ.” For some reason, I watch for a moment. Probably because I can’t look away. It’s like driving by a car accident, and you can’t help but look. “Make her stop,” I groan, covering my eyes.
Thankfully, Kelly grabs her and shows her how to line dance instead.
“Oh my God.” Kelsey flops down in the chair next to me, her dress puffing up like a balloon wrapped around her waist. “I’m freaking out.”
Not knowing what else to do, I hand her a cake pop. “Here. This might calm you down.”
Like a savage, she rips it from my hand and shoves the entire thing in her mouth at once, mumbling around the piece flying out her mouth and onto the table and my arm, “Kiss pulps.” In mouth-full translation, which I’m good at because I have kids, that translates to, “This helps.”
With a hard swallow, she finishes it and then stares at me, her blue eyes bloodshot and tired. “Is there rum in those?”
I nod. “Yep. Where the hell have you been for the last three hours?”
She looks through me; her attention is focused solely on the one leaning against the bar, drinking his problems away. “Detained.”
With a bottle of water in hand, believe me, I don’t need any more alcohol, I take a look at Kelsey’s appearance. Her hair’s all over the place, her mascara streaking down her cheeks and she’s shaking. “Are you okay?”
“Noah, tell me what to do.”
“Me?”
She kicks my leg with hers. “Yes, you.”
I practically choke on my water. No, actually I do choke on it. Clearing my throat, I set the water on the table. “What the hell would make you think I would know what to do?”
Her teary eyes slide to mine, her bubble-gum-colored lips frowning. “Because you and Kelly followed your hearts.”
She’s right, we did. I glance up at my wife currently line dancing with our daughters, her smile as radiant as the day we said “I do.” Which, given the night, or hell, last two years we’ve had, is hard to believe she can still smile like that. Kelly motions me forward with a crook of her finger when the song changes to a slower one. Standing, I pat Kelsey on the shoulder. “What does your heart say?”
Her tears don’t stop. “My heart tells me not to hurt him.”
I think she’s talking about Jonas, but I don’t know for sure. “Then you have your answer.”
Stepping toward the dance floor, you would think I’m going to dance with Kelly, right? Well, I intend to but guess who stands before me with her arms out? She’s about two feet tall and spits on people.
Yep. Our little camel is actually holding her hands out to me. “Tit?” she says, wide-eyed and waiting. Maybe that’s code for up? She knows one word so why not make it universal, right? Unless she’s thinking I’m going to feed her. If that’s the case, she’s going to be sorely disappointed by my hairy nipples.
