Page 79 of Contingently Yours
“Oh, honey. What happened?”
Honey?Wh-what the hell is happening now? I can’t take any more weird today.
Terry being nice to me is officially weirder than Dad having a one-night stand with Uncle Lou. Maybe even weirder than the thought of Aunt Vera lighting one of the candles I gave her for a threesome. The woman bakes me cookies and knits.
Except now Shaw is looking at me, too, like he’s invested.
“I don’t know.” I throw my hands up and swipe Terry’s beer back since apparently I’m off the hook for thievery right now. “He’s freaking out over planning his sisters’ double wedding and went off on me. Some bullshit about how this never would have worked, and he’ll just see me at the office where we can go back to trying not to kill each other because ‘that’s what would have happened anyway, right?’”I imitate his hurtful untruth. He once claimed that he was honest. Well, how does he know that’s what would have happened? “He didn’t even give me a chance,” I grumble.
“Sweetheart, planning a wedding is like being in a cage match. Double wedding? Forget it. You cannot fault the man for being stressed out.”
Hello, if anyone knows that Lucas can stress, it’s me. I don’t need Terry to tell me the obvious.
“I don’t! I said I’d help, but he said my suggestions weren’t helping.”
“Okay,talkinganddoingare two very different things. Men, I swear.” He sighs and rolls his eyes. “Take this one for example,” he adds, gesturing to Shaw.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shaw asks.
Terry folds his arms over his chest and bats a hand in the air, giving my cousin a knowing look. I don’t believe this. Does everyone in my family stop to think about their own problems when I tell them I’m in the middle of a crisis?
“Hello!” I wave my hand. “Emergency here!”
Lolling his head back toward me, Terry takes a breath like I’m boring him. “Look, if you love your man, you gotta show him the love. I’m talking white-knight shit. Mani, pedi, massages.” He rattles on, counting things off on his fingers.
We clearly have different opinions of the activities of white knights.
“If he’s stressed,” he continues, “destress that shit before something else does it for you, and you’re just the guy who stood by and watched the dumpster burn. You ride up in there in your best shining armor and serenade that damsel in distress.”
As I stare at the most obnoxious cousin-in-law on the planet, I have the urge to laugh. Maybe people are bound to give decent advice sooner or later.
“What are you doing?” Shaw asks as I pop up from my chair.
“I have to go. I know what to do.”
“Oh, my God. Did I just save the day?” Terry claps excitedly.
He looks so hopeful. His eyes, so full of visions of happily-ever-afters for me. That’s…really sweet. I never would’ve imagined him rooting for me.
“Fuck no. I’m the one who has to do the legwork.”
CHAPTER 30
Andrew
Walking out of Bob’s Emporium, I now not only have a plan, but I have appropriate apparel for a barn wedding. Country gentleman apparel, to be exact, at least according to the logo on the receipt for my new duds. The reception should have kicked off right about an hour ago, per the invitation that I drove to the office yesterday afternoon to steal off Lucas’ desk, since he still wouldn’t answer his phone. Hopefully, he at least got my message that he could stand down on the hunt for a band and that I got it covered. There is no point in my running myself ragged if he gives himself an ulcer. Smoothing out the fringe on my khaki western shirt, I hope I look the part of a hired musician more than in the white dress shirt and black slacks I left the house in. The last thing I want to do is stick out like a sore thumb in Lucas’ neck of the woods and embarrass him when I’m trying to win him over.
My keyboard is tucked safely in the trunk of my car, along with the amp and mic I had to go rent last night, since I have no idea what kind of setup I’m walking into at this hayloft extraordinaire. The things we do for love.
The peak of a giant barn, along with an array of cars in a parking lot, comes into view at the end of the lakeside road, letting me know my GPS was on track. I’ve found it.
No one starts dancing right away at these things. People always have to sit around and wait for the bridal party to arrive while they’re starving, then they eat and suffer through speeches. I wasn’t about to intrude in the middle of that and watch Lucas’ head spin around. Timing is key in this thing.
Parking, I get out and hoist all my gear over my shoulder, grateful that I never pursued a musical career as I slog it across the parking lot. I’m freaking sweating under this cowboy hat already and haven’t even reached the damn door. How sexy is that?
I have to say, though, that I look pretty fucking good in these boots. I swear they make my ass feel higher, perkier. That Bob knows what he’s doing. Maybe his lot was empty because everyone in town was at the wedding.
Stepping inside, I get a whiff of Beef Wellington and fried chicken as soon as the air conditioning hits me. White-linen-covered tables litter the refurbished space that you wouldn’t know was a barn unless you saw it from the outside or looked up at the rafters. Twinkle lights loop around them, casting an ethereal glow over the guests, who look to have just finished their meals, their attention now directed toward the bridal party table.
