18. Weland
Chapter eighteen
Weland
T he first thing I do when I wake up and realize it’s a) super early and b) Sterling is asleep in bed beside me is suppress the urge to haul myself up against him and kiss him awake. He needs his sleep. I also clearly needed mine. It turns out the best cure for insomnia and an overactive brain is a good orgasm. Sterling proved that to me last night. Then I passed out on him.
I clearly owe him.
Not in the form of waking him up since who knows when he fell asleep. Judging by his deep breathing, he’s pretty out of it right now. No matter what kind of thoughts my addled brain is producing, I’m not letting my ovaries dictate the terms.
What I am going to do is slide out of bed, get dressed, walk Beans, jump in the shower, feed Beans, and make some coffee and breakfast for us.
Still, as I slide out of bed and pull on leggings and a vintage T-shirt that has sunshine and clouds holding hands and dancing on the front of it, I can’t help a last, lingering look at my bed. My heart kicks up, and I feel like there are strings Sterling has wrapped around his hands that connect to every part of me. I really want to get back into bed and join him, even if it’s just to close my eyes and listen to his deep, steady breathing. I could just run my finger over the ridges of his shoulders that are defined even under his T-shirt. I could just study his face and memorize the beautiful details.
God, what’s happening to me?
My lower belly does a clenching thing that says I know very well what’s happening.
I head downstairs and make good on my agenda until I’m in the middle of putting on coffee, and someone knocks softly at the front door.
This isn’t a Greedy Gretchens kind of a knock. I imagine if they knocked, they’d bang the door down, though I don’t think they’d get that far. Beefy Security Dude out there would take them down. All three of them. Even though he’s just one person, I have zero doubt he’d find a way. I’m pretty sure Lethal Exterminator is his first language.
In fact, I recognize that knock. It sounds a lot like the way my dad puts his knuckles to a door when he’s kind of unsure about whether he should be doing it or not. That’s the way he used to wake me up for school every single morning. I’d always have my bedroom door closed to block out the noise of my mom getting up darn early and puttering around downstairs, and I’d also just about always shut my alarm off and fall back asleep, and he’d have to come and wake me up.
I can tell my hormones are riding high when I open it because on seeing my mom, my dad, and my brother on my doorstep, my eyes fill with happy tears.
“Come in,” I whisper. I glance up toward the ceiling and lock the door after them. “Sterling’s still asleep.”
Beans comes running, wagging his stumpy tail all the way to the door. Bryan bends down and scratches his one ear. “Hey, dude. Looking good.”
“He is,” Mom says. “Yes, he is. I think those probiotics are agreeing with him.”
“That’s good love,” Dad responds, slipping his arm around Mom’s waist but looking me up and down like he’s trying to see if good love agrees with me.
I have to turn and fly back to the kitchen because, nope, I’m not giving away secrets here. Not the secrets of my heart. I mean, there’s never been anything I haven’t discussed with my family before, but this feels…this feels private. It feels like it’s something I need to keep just for myself for a little bit longer. Maybe it’s because I don’t really know what that secret actually is. I haven’t decoded what’s going on. I had an orgasm last night. It doesn’t mean I’m falling in love. I might be married, but it doesn’t mean my husband is going to be my husband forever. That’s still undecided. I don’t have any answers for them, and I can tell they’ve come for answers.
Mom takes over in the kitchen for me, bustling around like she lives here and owns the place. She’s been here often enough, so she absolutely knows where everything is. I don’t protest when she starts whipping up a batch of waffles. I just take over with the bacon and eggs. Dad and Bryan sit down at the table.
“Have you figured out what to do about the cousins?” Bryan asks in the most brittle tone. I can practically feel the frost of his anger coming across the kitchen. Yeah, my family doesn’t just love me. They’re protective of me. No one messes with any of us because the rest of us won’t stand for it. We’re here for each other in all ways. I knew my family wouldn’t let this rest.
I now realize they didn’t come to ask me questions about my love life and check up on my relationship status. They’re here because they’ve thought of something. My dad is squirming in his chair and glancing at my mom like he either really needs the bathroom or he’s bursting to tell me what it is.
She gives a slight nod, and he’s off. “We’ve come up with an idea. A great one. We’ve researched it a little. I’m no lawyer, but I think it could work. I have no idea how complicated it would be to carry all of it off and out and everything else, but I think if Sterling knows the right people, he could make it happen.”
“What could I make happen?” a voice suddenly says.
And there he is, filling up the doorway to the kitchen. A little bit sleepy and bleary-eyed, a little bit rumpled. He looks like he was pulled right from bed, heard voices, and then came down here to see what the heck was going on and if I needed saving. And he did it all with zero hesitation.
I want to race across the kitchen, throw my arms around his neck, and kiss him.
But I don’t want to do any of it just for show.
So I stay where I am, holding two eggs in one hand over the stainless steel bowl I was going to crack them into. But my eyes sweep over him, and his eyes sweep back to meet mine. For just a split second, I feel like one part of a twin flame, and then Sterling’s gaze wanders back to the table where my dad and brother are plotting.
In a good way. They’re plotting to try and save not just me but us. Even if they haven’t truly accepted that I’m part of an us.
“Does this involve nefarious plans and deeds?” I have to ask. Just because I’m not sure we really need to be putting any more negative energy out into the world.
“Not at all,” my dad answers.
My table only has two chairs, but there are two folding chairs over in the corner. Sterling grabs one, pops it open a few feet over, and plops down.
Mom goes back to whipping up the batter with a little bit extra whipping, which tells me this was actually all her idea. Dad must have done the research, and Bryan is here for moral support. We stick together in this family. Good or bad ideas, we talk about them and do them together.
I grasp those eggs a little bit tighter without even realizing I’m doing it. Crackage is imminent whether I want it to be or not, so it's a good thing I have the bowl ready.
“It was your mother’s idea,” Dad says, confirming my suspicions. The waffle mix gets a little bit mixier. “From what Weland has told us—” He’s referencing the quick conversation I had with my family after meeting the trio of cousins to the power of awful the other day. “We understand your cousins want your company, and you want to protect it and everyone there. I know this is going to be an oversimplification, but we both took the day off work because we know it’s important, and we think this could be something that could actually have a chance at succeeding.”
Right, work. I’m losing track of the days. My parents don’t just take time off work. I feel beyond honored that they’re here right now. They don’t just have my back anymore. They have Sterling’s too. As I said earlier, it makes me feel like we’re a team.
“Alright,” I say cautiously. “Tell us.”
“Just make a different company,” Bryan blurts, clearly ruining the surprise and careful planning my dad has put into explaining this. “As in keep it the same company, but just move everyone over. All your artists, all your employees. Make the old one with those shares not worth anything. That way, your cousins can have it, and you’ll have something brand new that they can’t touch.”
I have never gaped so hard in my life, and my jaw has never creaked up so creakily. This is beyond the pale. It’s beyond all the colors. It’s beyond anything I’ve ever known. It’s all the colors. All the pales. All the things that should and shouldn’t be.
I whip my gaze back and forth between my mom and dad, then to my brother and Sterling. Everyone has a different expression on their face, ranging from hope to skepticism. I can tell Sterling doesn’t know what to think. He’s not used to family meetings, and it’s still early in the morning. His cousins showed up out of nowhere, and we just did things last night. There’s a lot going on, and now this. But he looks cautiously optimistic. The lights are working their way on in his dark eyes, which are back to being that lovely dark roast coffee with just the right amount of cream hue.
I crack the eggs in my hands and go for two more before anyone can notice how my body is lighting up just looking at this man. I don’t know if I’m large enough to contain emotions like this. I might be one of those containers that say, “Do Not Tip Over” and “Handle with Care.” Do not shake, stir, and for the love of all things holy, do not get close to fire. And he’s fire. We’re not supposed to mix, but here we are. Flirting with the most dangerous of dangers.
We’re also thinking about flirting with disaster because that’s what this plan feels like. It feels like fucking over three people who very much aren’t going to stand for tricks like this.
“Make a different company,” Sterling muses thoughtfully. I crack two more eggs and reach for another two. I’m all about the double cracking. Two eggs. Smack together. Then, into the bowl. That’s how I’ve always done it. “Gosh darn it, I think it could work.”
“Oh, it could work,” Bryan says with all the confidence of youth. “I’ve never been a glass half full type of person, but even I think it could work. It beats them at their own game because they’re definitely playing it. Plus, it untangles my sister from all this.”
At those words, my world wrenches to a grinding halt. I drop one egg onto the counter, and it splats there noisily. Everyone is looking at me now. “Is…this what this is really about? You all getting me away from Sterling?” I suddenly feel betrayed by my family. And it’s not a feeling I’m used to. I don’t like this pain. It’s like a hot knife slicing through my body, which is suddenly made of butter. As in whip me up and spread me onto bread, make toast of me, and dip garlic sticks in me kind of butter.
I guess there only is that kind of butter.
No, wait, there’s body butter, but I think it’s a similar concept.
“That’s not it.” Mom is quick with the paper towel, wiping up the broken egg mess. “I mean, it’s part of it. We just want you to be free to make your own decisions. We’ll support whatever it is, but no one should be forced to get married.” She looks to Sterling right after me. “That goes for you too. Neither of you should have had to enter into an agreement like that. This will free you both. If you want to pursue something together after that, then we’re not going to stop you. You’re an adult, and you know your own feelings.”
That’s legit. My mom doesn’t lie to me. I’m the one who kept this from my family, but they’re not mad at me. They’re not mad at Sterling. They’re not trying to separate us. I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. I don’t usually do that—not realize I’m not breathing.
This offer isn’t conditional. My family’s love isn’t conditional. Their idea to help us isn’t conditional on me never seeing Sterling again. There are always conditions on everything, but not on the hand that my mom puts on my shoulder. Not on the way she squeezes, assuring me with a single look that she loves me and always will love me, even if I’ve hidden a marriage for the past four years.
“I’d prefer if you left and never saw my sister again,” Bryan says. He yelps a second later and jumps up, and no, it’s not because Sterling has booted him under the table. Sterling’s not even sitting at the table. He hasn’t even moved. He also doesn’t have bionic eye skills. “Your dog just rubbed his anus on me!”
Bryan is wearing shorts and a T-shirt. I crouch down, and Beans wags his tail. He’s under the table, just standing there.
“He backed up and leaned his hot anus on me!” Bryan grumbles.
“Hmm, sounds like he was trying to give you a hug.” My mom is trying very hard not to laugh.
But my dad does it for her. He bellows his signature dad laugh that sounds a little bit like a donkey’s mating call. Heee-hawwwwww. Heeeeeeeee-haw. He-he-heeeeee.
“Dad!” Bryan huffs, his face turning red. “I fail to see how that’s a hug. And it’s not funny.” He’s embarrassed. My little brother, who hardly ever gets embarrassed about anything, is totally turning red. This coming from a guy who can let one rip in a totally silent room, and everyone knows it’s him, and he won’t even deny it, or he’ll just straight up confess to it.
“He could have been giving you a dog CPR. We were getting awfully excited in here,” Mom goes on. She’s getting on a roll now. She gets like this when we play those board games with words. You will never, ever beat my mom at one of those. Peeing your pants is also a high risk when undergoing those kinds of activities with her. “Anyway, these waffles are ready to be made.” She reaches for the waffle maker and, within a minute, has it plugged in and greased with the cooking spray from the cupboard. “Sit back down, Bryan. The dog just loves you, that’s all. Give him some nice pets and we’ll talk about how to outsmart these cousins from you know where.”
“The moon?” Dad suggests, genuinely confused.
I bite back my own laughter. I may have inherited a little bit of that braying call from him, and I don’t dare let it loose.
“I think she was talking about hell ,” Bryan states dryly. He reluctantly starts scratching Beans’ head. I can see the movement from above the table.
I finish cracking eggs, and once I have the whole pack in the bowl, I get a whisk, add some milk, and start scrambling. Everyone thinks it’s for the pan, and it is, but it’s also for the bowl. That’s the secret to good scrambled eggs. Well, that, along with cheese and tons of hot sauce.
“I did some research,” Dad goes back to saying while I heat up the frying pan and Mom gets her waffle-making game face on. “It would take a lot of work and probably some good lawyers and some time. I’m not saying it would be cheap, but I think you can pull the rug right out from under them, clichéically speaking.”
“Clichéically isn’t a word,” Bryan interjects.
Beans woofs from under the table. My brother reluctantly goes back to petting him with a sigh. “Your dog’s butthole is way too warm. I think he should see a doctor for that.”
“How warm?” I can’t help myself. I’m rising to it. “I think they’re supposed to be pretty hot. That’s where they take their temperature, you know.”
“Ears,” my brother throws back at me with a shudder. “They take it in the ears.”
I pour the mixed-up eggs into the hot pan and listen to them sizzling. Speaking of hot things, I think I got the perfect temperature. “I think they do sometimes stick it…uh…where the sun doesn’t shine.”
“Well, I think it’s hot. You should get it checked,” Bryan says stubbornly.
“Fair enough. But tell me more about this plot. I mean plan.”
At last, my brother perks back up. “It’s a plan to save you from the evil butt crack butthole-faced cousins.”
“You’ve never seen them,” I protest, just to be fair. “You don’t know what they look like.”
“Well, they act like buttholes.”
“Fair enough.” Dad’s using his serious tone, and he’s getting his game face on. His business game face. His no one messes with my family and survives to tell the tale, especially not butthole cousins game face on. Suddenly, I’m blinking back tears. I’ve never been prouder of my family or felt more loved. They’re here because we need them. They’re here without even being asked. Heck, they don’t even like Sterling, yet they still showed up in the biggest way. “This is how I think we could do it…”