“That you, Tumbles?” Landon calls from the room.
“Yep!”
“Come check out the costume I got.”
My mom shuts the door behind her and takes off her jacket. “Tumbles?”
“Long story,” I say, setting my keys down. “Give me a second to warn him you’re here?”
Her head moves, but she stops mid-nod. Eyes wide, she stares over my shoulder as booming “Old Time Rock and Roll” plays from down the hall. Landon bursts from the bedroom, landing feet apart, arm pointing straight at me. He’s in nothing but a white button-down, briefs, and sunglasses. His lips sync the words for about two seconds, until he sees my mom.
He shoots upright, hands covering his crotch and red splashing all up and down his neck.
“Uh…,” he mutters, completely dumbfounded. I can feel my mom shaking with laughter.
“Mom, Landon. Landon, Mom.”
Landon’s jaw drops slightly. He quickly takes his sunglasses off, sort of waddles down the hall, and awkwardly reaches around me for Mom’s hand.
“Well, this is just how I wanted to meet you,” he jokes. I’m so embarrassed for him I want to hide my face, but Mom laughs and shakes his hand.
“Nice legs.”
“Nice hands. Very soft.” He pulls back with a smile. “I’m gonna go put on some pants.”
His face is still red as he walks backward into the room and shuts the door. I turn to apologize to my mom, wondering who wins the parental meet and greet fail, but when I lock eyes with her, she’s grinning from ear to ear.
“I like him.”
Chapter 17
“What’s this from?” Mom asks, taking the painted shoelace of Landon’s between her fingers. She’s been admiring our collage wall since Landon left for the party. He didn’t want to go, but I wanted some alone time with Mom to go over wedding details.
“My engagement party.”
“You dipped your shoelaces in pink paint?”
“Those are actually Landon’s. Paint war. Whatever he says…I won.”
She laughs and lets her fingertips trail over the pictures, movie ticket stubs, and the bowling score sheet from our first date. She pauses at one of me and Theresa backstage at the first play Landon directed. Well…assistant directed. Alec got the lead because it was a musical, but Jace probably would’ve snagged it if it hadn’t been.
“Your hair looks really pretty in this one,” she says. “Maybe we could do that for the wedding.”
A hopeful smile twitches my lips. Maybe we can plan this thing without her reminding me how young I am and without any “Are you sure you aren’t pregnant?” speeches.
“I was thinking we could put red flowers in it,” I say. “Maybe some jewels to make it look like snowflakes?”
“That would be pretty, too.” She takes one last glance at the wall before easing on the couch and patting her leg. I instantly plop my butt on the cushion and lay my head in her lap, squeezing her knee.
“Have you picked a hall?” she asks. “We want to make sure it’s available for the weekend you want.”
“On top of it. Put down a deposit and nearly wiped my savings clean.”
“Completely clean? Or it’s just not as big as you’d like it?”
I wrinkle my nose at her, and she starts stroking my hair. “I’m worried we won’t have enough. I looked online and the average wedding costs are—”
“Do you think that you’re paying for the entire wedding?”
“Well, yeah. I didn’t want to assume…”
“Your father and I have been saving for your wedding since you were a baby. We could’ve used more time,” she teases, tugging on my earlobe. I wiggle away from her. “But here’s what I want you and Landon to worry about.”
She brings up her fingers, and I know she’s going into planning mode. Something I definitely picked up from her. I sit up and get ready to make a new wedding budget plan.
“Your honeymoon.”
I wait for her to tick off more, but she doesn’t. “And…?”
She pulls me back to her lap with a laugh. “And nothing.”
“So the hall?”
“We’ll pay for the rest of it.”
“The cake? The reception? The food? What about decorations? My bouquet? Invitations?”
“Yes, all of that.”
I twist so I’m looking right up at her. “My…my dress?”
She tucks a blond lock behind my ear and nods.
“Mom,” I say, letting my eyes fall closed. “That’s so expensive. I can’t let you and Dad…”
“Well, we’re hoping Landon’s family will take care of the flowers and tuxes. Do you think they’re in a position to help out?”
What did she just ask? I’m temporarily thoughtless as warmth cocoons me in a sense of relief and love and such overwhelming gratitude that I’m left completely speechless. I’m trying to think, trying to figure out what else there is that I need to save up for. Theresa is paying for her dress. Landon’s already paid off the ring on my hand—he piggy-banked that cash for a year without me knowing. Kudos for him being able to keep that a secret—and now the hall, the reception…all of it…how can my parents take care of all of it?
“Lizzie?”
“This isn’t going to bankrupt you, is it?”
She laughs. “No. We’re doing this sensibly, okay? I need you to be mindful of our budget. You won’t get everything on that Pinterest board of yours, and we can’t buy everything for you on New York’s prices, but I promise we’ll make this a good day for you and Lando—oof!”
My arms swing around Mom’s shoulders, and I know I’m squeezing too hard, but I can’t stop myself. The reality of Landon’s cut-back hours, my minimum-wage job, our overworking and paycheck-to-paycheck way of living hits me hard, and I realize that there is no way I could’ve afforded this on my own, and Mom and Dad are offering me a wedding.
There is something to be said about chanting.
“Thank you,” I say, knowing the words do not do my feelings justice. Mom taps on my shoulders to get me to ease up, and when I do she lets out a long breath like the ability to breathe has finally returned.
“After your shift tomorrow we’ll shop. Dresses, cakes, decorations, invitations, you name it.”
“I’ve already found the perfect dress,” I say, settling back in her lap. “I’m waiting for it to go on sale.”
“You can show me tomorrow, then.” She starts lazily stroking my head again. “And you never answered me.”
“About what?”
“Landon’s family. Do you think they’re able to help out with the flowers and tuxedos?”
“Oh…um…I don’t know.” I drum my fingers along her knee. “I suppose I could…I could ask.”
That conversation is bound to go smoothly. “Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Wangford, I know I completely ran my mouth at you, but let’s let bygones be bygones and give me some money.”
Mom tugs on my chin, eyebrows meeting in the middle of her forehead. And my frown that follows is completely involuntary.
“Landon’s mom hates me.”
Mom’s brows relax and she pinches my lip. “Of course she does. That’s what mother-in-laws do.”
“So you hate Landon? Peachy.”
She chuckles, smoothing my lengthy blond hair. “Why do you think she hates you?”
“I drank too much wine and I don’t know what I said to her, but it pissed her off enough to basically kick us out the next morning.”
“Oh, Lizzie…”
“First impressions are not my forte.”
“Something you and Landon have in common?”
She gets a snort out of me. “One of many things.”
“What else?”
“We’re both pretty competitive.”
“You found someone to butt heads with.” She pinches my nose. “Just what you need.”
“We like the theater. Broadway would be our weekly date if it weren’t so expensive. We’re both Leos. He
has a great work ethic. He can’t cook, but he can sure order a mean takeout. We both have tattoos we’re not very proud of. Our favorite TV shows are The Walking Dead, The Big Bang Theory, and Survivor. He’s well-rounded, exciting, fun…And, of course, we’re both hilarious.”
I twist around since Mom’s stopped her soothing strokes. There’s a slight glisten in her eyes.
“You have a tattoo? New York Lizzie is different from Georgia Lizzie.”
“Not really. I’m still picky about my vegetables. I still keep everything in Rubbermaid bins, my toes are always painted, and I have a Hurdle List for every life-changing event.”
She smiles, taps my arm so I move from her lap, and she pulls out her tablet.
The Hurdles for Planning Your Daughter’s Wedding
I pull my feet up on the couch and cuddle closer. The first one on the list gives my heart a warm squeeze.
1. Learn to let my Lizzie go…again.
“I don’t know why I put the biggest Hurdle first.” She laughs, squeezing me into her side. “I’ll never be able to get to the other ones.”
I bite my lip and push into her hold for a second, then reach to my laptop and pull up my own Hurdle List. I meant for her to see the one about telling her about the engagement, and how nervous I was, but she points to the top one on the list and raises an amused eyebrow.
“Operation Great Sex, huh?”
“That is not the one you’re supposed to be looking at.”
She flicks a loose curl out of her eyes. “Did you convince him?”
“I did. That one was easier than I thought. It’s the…execution that’s the hard part.”
I explain to her the no-sex deal, what’s at stake, and then I’m suddenly babbling about how we’re both trying to get each other to give in. Mom’s equal parts laughing and blushing.
“That explains Mr. Risky Business.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“I have a question, though.”
“Okay.”
“Why cut yourselves off in the first place?”
“You really want to hear this?” I twist my fingers in my lap, wondering how open I should be here. Mom’ll probably have some good insight on making that part of the relationship continually hot over the course of several years. I had to block memories of banging headboards from when I was a kid.
Mom puts her tablet down next to my computer and smiles. “You can talk to me about anything. I’m sure we’ll talk about a lot more when you get pregnant and your body starts doing things you never thought it would.”
“Okay…Landon’s good at, um, satisfying me…?” Lawdy, I’m talking satisfied sex with my mother. She gives an encouraging nod, so I let my chest sort of unknot and keep going. “But, well, the night we got engaged was kind of…meh.”
“So you cut him off sex till the wedding? Seems a bit harsh.” Her shoulders shake with silent laughter. I push on her leg.
“No. It was a weird day that day. My mind was elsewhere and it would’ve taken me a long time to…anyway, I just…my wedding night…it should be perfect. So even after the long day, tired feet and tired minds, I want to be able to…I want to…”
“Orgasm?”
I put my hands over my fiery red cheeks. My mom just said orgasm.
“Was that night the first time you didn’t orgasm? Because I’d say, lucky you!”
“No…but ugh, I don’t want to make Landon sound lame, Mom.” But I find it equally mortifying to talk about what a good lover he is too.,
“I’m not going to think that. In fact, I’ll probably try not to think about it at all.”
I let out a sigh and drop my hands. “The first couple times we had sex were a little awkward, but we found out more about each other’s, you know, desires and it was wow. For a long time, wow. But then our lives got…for lack of a better word, busy. And so our hot sessions sort of morphed into…”
“Commercial break sex?”
My eyes widen. “Yes, exactly.”
“That happens to every relationship. It’s okay. When you two are together it’s still intimate and nice, right?”
I slowly nod. “I mean, it’s good between us, mainly because we know what’s what on who and what makes who go ‘OH!’ Even the times I don’t orgasm, it’s been…fun.” Just short.
“That’s good. It should always be fun.”
It is always fun. I like fun. I like when he teases me while kissing my neck. I love the smile on his face and the playful bites he gives to my shoulders. The way he always makes me laugh first, then turns those laughs into something else entirely. I miss it…but not nearly as much as something new, exciting, and for our wedding night, the first time with him as my husband, I crave something different. No…not different…more.
“I want passionate.”
“It should be that, too. You love him, right?”
I roll my eyes. “Of course.”
“Then, when it comes to making love, just…love him.” She pats my leg. “That being said, I completely understand wanting to wait. It could help bring back the spark you want.”
“You think?”
“To paraphrase, absence makes the clitoris grow fonder.”
I jolt back. “What did you just say?”
She starts laughing, making me laugh and cover my cheeks again. If my right-winged, conservative mother spouts off any more medically correct words I’m going to have to surgically hinge my jaw back on.
Then again, I’d rather hear “clitoris” than “pussy.” Let’s leave that word only in Landon’s vocabulary.
Chapter 18
NOVEMBER
It’s been three months to the day since Landon’s proposal. Mom went back to Georgia, I’ve been working like a dog, and Landon’s been editing every night when I get home. So even though it’s 9:30, we’re both immobile in our bed.
“Liz, you still awake?” Landon asks.
“Mihimiflagon.”
“Do you remember when I…when it…slipped?”
“Hrmmmh?”
“You know, that time we got a little rough and I came out and accidentally thrust back into your—”
“What in the world…?” I mumble in my half-sleep. We haven’t talked about the accidental slip since its occurrence. It hurt like hell, for one, and for two, it was embarrassing. We’d only been intimate a few times, but that time it was humphumphumphumphump, shit, ouch, holy mother of pearl, sorrysorrysorry, then we slept on polar opposites of the mattress.
“Well…” I hear him scratch something. “We were pretty cautious after that. For a while. But then we fell back into our rhythm.”
He’s right. It was probably two months of slow hump…hump…hump. But it’s the dead of night, and I actually want to sleep and not toss and turn with thought of any humping.
“Do you have a point, Landon?”
“I just thought it was interesting.”
“Hmm…” I’m so tired. Lack of rest and too much work equals automatic sleep. I curl into the sheets, ignoring the cold and the bizarre “slip” question, and start to drift away. Landon’s breathing turns heavy and sleepy not ten minutes in.
I’m cold. November’s temperature is quickly dropping, and nights are the worst because Landon’s next to me, warm and comforting, and he’s even warmer when his shirt rises above his abs and I can press against his skin. So I turn around in the bed and give him the butt. Landon’s hand plops on my hip. Funny…I thought he finally fell asleep. And I don’t have the energy to push it off, so I let him keep it there.
Then it moves to my stomach and pulls me flush against him.
“Mmmm…” I involuntarily moan. He presses a kiss under my ear.
“I love you,” he whispers, and it sends chills up and down my entire body, making me shiver against him in a way that makes him want to spin me around. He kisses me hard, then soft, then hard again. He’s warm. So warm. I feel a sweat coming on as he lifts on his arms and rains kisses up and down, down and up, all over my neck and che
st. I arch my back, wanting to press against him, feel his heat and my heat and our heat.
“Landon…” I whimper, nearly at the point of begging. This is torture. He’s revving me up, only to leave me dry.
“I’m not teasing you, Tumbles,” he says, and when I open my eyes I see that he means it.
“You’re…you’re going to…”
His hand rakes up my ribs and purposely rests on my breast. There’s the slightest smile in the corner of his mouth, and I let out a deep groan as he massages my nipple, pulls and tweaks and sends hyperactive beads to Miss Liz. She’s swimming in Chocolateville, waving a plane ticket to the Bahamas. We have won! And I didn’t even have to pretend to work out this time.
Landon reaches up with his other hand so neither breast is forgotten. His lips capture mine, swallowing my moans. I start rocking my hips, needing relief, but I can’t quite get it enough to satisfy. I rub harder, push harder, but it’s not working.
“Landon…”
“Yeah, baby?”
“I need…I want you to…”
I’m so deep in chocolate that I don’t notice that his kisses feel weird. The tongue that traces the valley of my lips is too soft. Squishy. Actually, his whole body is. I open my eyes and it’s Landon. It’s him, but it doesn’t feel like him.
“Come here,” he says, flipping me over. His hands grab my ass, igniting a fire low in my belly as he guides me on top of him. He feels harder now. He’s much harder now that I’m on top. I grind into him, finally relieving some of the pleasure pains.
“Oh my—”
“Liz…”
“Yes. Yes!”
“Liz…”
“Landon…”
“Liz…you need to wake up.”
I am awake. Oh my, am I awake.
“Damn it, Liz!”
My eyes snap open. The room is dark, the bedspread a crumpled heap between my legs. Once my eyes adjust I notice the way I’m wrapped around Landon, clutching at his shirt, breathing hard into the crook of his neck.
He gives me a strained grin. “Even your unconscious mind wants me.”
I drop my gaze to his boxers, a wet bead near the push of his erection against the material. Slowly, I shift my legs, gently peel my sweaty body away from his, and let out a large breath.