Page 87 of The One I Need
I hold up my ring and flash it to her. “I’m already there.”
She lets out a small laugh, the first one she’s had since yesterday. “If anyone asks, we didn’t get married in Vegas. Small ceremony in Nashville will be just fine.”
“Whatever you say, my dear.”
She looks toward the bed and breakfast then back to me. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this.”
I take her hand, the one that now has a ring on it. I want to revel in the fact that I’m feeling the metal against my skin. I want to kiss her hand, knowing it’s wearing the companion piece to mine. But I don’t. Not now. Izzy needs me to be her rock. And dammit, that’s what I’m going to be.
“We need a sign,” I say.
“A sign?”
“Yeah. Or a code word. If for some reason I get pulled away from you and you need to be saved, or if the conversation is getting to be too much and you need an escape, a sign that I know to take over and remove you from the situation.”
“That could work,” she says. “Except what if I do it by accident?”
“Well, what’s something you’d never do or say in front of the people you’re about to be around?”
“Probably swear. I might want to, but it’s easier if I don’t.”
“Then that’s it. Give me a really loud fuck or shit or your classic for fuck’s sake and you’ll be as good as removed from the situation.”
“Now I kind of want that to happen just to see their faces when I drop any of those words.”
“Honestly? Me too.”
* * *
“You ready?”
I look over to Izzy, who looks like she’s psyching herself up to go twelve rounds in an MMA cage. “As I’ll ever be.”
I turn off the car and walk around to help her out. She gives me her hand, which I don’t let go of as we start walking toward Izzy’s childhood home.
“You know you don’t have to hold my hand,” she says.
“If we’re going to be real husband and wife, I have to look the part. We’re not going to get called out as fakes or frauds because I’m not playing my part.”
“You’re ridiculous,” she says as she turns and smiles at me. “Thank you.”
I lean in and kiss her temple. “Anytime.”
She takes a deep breath and squeezes my hand for good measure before opening the door. Now, I had a feeling a lot of people were over paying their respects, as the driveway, and street, are full of cars. But I wasn’t expecting this kind of crowd. The second we step through the door, the room goes quiet and all attention turns to us. Izzy flinches, immediately pulling into me, as it seems like every pair of eyes in the room is staring at her. Which by my rough estimate right now is no less than fifty people.
“I got you,” I whisper. “I’m right here.”
“Elizabeth, it’s nice to see you.”
The woman, who I’m going to assume is Izzy’s mother—simply based on their same color red hair and taller stature—doesn’t reach out for a hug. I don’t even think she blinks.
“Hello, Mom. This is Oliver.”
“Hello, Mrs. McCall. I’m Oliver Price.”
I reach out to shake her hand, but I’m not met with a return gesture. I’m only met with her grabbing my hand, staring at the ring, before she turns her eyes back to Izzy.
“Married?”
