Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
WREN
B ending over, I greet Keanu with coos and praise as I unclip his bow tie from his swanky little shirt. “Yes, you are. You’re a good boy, the very best one I know. Now go, go on. Back to Starling and Kyle. You can do it.”
“Come on, Keanu. I have a carrot treat for you,” Starling calls from just outside the door to the party room. With a final clattering bark, Keanu dashes back toward my sister, while I open the hidden pocket at the back of the bow tie.
Turning back to Barrett, I pull the ring from inside and hold it up between us, my heart soaring as his lips part in wonder.
I was worried he’d feel like I stole his thunder, or ruined the moment, but judging from the shine in his eyes, he’s loving the surprise. “Barrett McGuire, you are everything I’ve ever wanted in a husband and more. You are my best friend and my teammate and the only person I ever want to make out in a bathroom with. You bring so much joy and comfort and fun to my life and I don’t ever want to wake up to a day without you in it. Will you do me the honor of being my husband forever and ever, no take backs?”
“It would make me the happiest man on earth,” he says, his voice rough with emotion as he holds out his left hand. He laughs softly as I slide the ring on his finger. “I was so nervous I forgot everything I was going to say.”
“Why were you nervous?” I ask, holding his big hand in both of mine, admiring how perfect my ring looks on his finger. “You knew I was going to say yes.”
“I hoped,” he says softly. “I didn’t know. I don’t like to take anything about you for granted.” Pulling one hand away, he reaches into his inner tuxedo coat pocket and pulls out a jewelry box, but it’s longer and flatter than a typical ring box.
Accepting it, I arch a brow his way. “What is it?”
He nods toward the box. “Open it.”
Heart fluttering with excitement, I creak it open to reveal a gorgeous (and huge) diamond solitaire that had to have cost him a small fortune and what looks like a lapel pin. Plucking the pin from the cotton with shaking hands, I glance at the bird with the stethoscope and ask, “Does this mean what I think it does?”
“Dr. Wren,” he says. “You’re going to be a great one. And when you’re finished with your residency, we can practice together.”
Tears filling my eyes, I whisper, “But I don’t even know if I’m going to get into a med school in Minnesota. If I don’t, I’m not going to go, Barrett. I don’t want to leave home or you or our families.”
“You’ll get in,” he says without missing a beat. “Your MCAT score left mine in the dust. You’ll be able to take your pick of schools. And when it’s time for your residency, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. If I have to hand the practice off to another doctor for a few years and move somewhere with you, I can. We’ll make it work. I want to make all your dreams come true. Not just the ones that involve me being your very sexy and devoted husband.”
Swiping at the wetness on my cheeks, I beam up at him. “How did I get so lucky?”
“I’m the lucky one,” he says, taking the ring from the box. “Mind if I slip this on? I’ve been dying to see it on your finger.”
I hold out my hand, nodding and smiling and tearing up all over again. It glides on easily and instantly flops upside down. Barrett curses, and I laugh.
“It’s too big,” he says, frowning. “How could I have thought your finger was that large?”
“It’s perfect,” I say, spinning it face up to look at the gorgeous stone. “I’ll get it sized first thing next week.”
“I should have taken one of your other rings in with me,” he says, his forehead still bunched.
I reach up, smoothing the ridges from his brow. “No, you shouldn’t have. This is great. Better too big than too little. And it gives me an excuse to look at wedding rings while I’m in the store. We’ll be getting married soon, right? I don’t want to plan a big wedding. I just want to be Mrs. McGuire as soon as possible.”
Gathering me into his arms, he hugs me close. “That sounds like my kind of wedding.”
“So, we’ll elope over Christmas break?” I ask, figuring I’m pushing it, but so past ready to be his wife, I can’t help myself.
“Or next weekend,” he says. “I only have one patient due to deliver and I can get Dr. Graham to be on call.”
Jaw dropping, I nod, bounce a little on my toes, and let out a soft squeal.
He laughs. “That was a very Keanu sound.”
“He’s a happy dog who makes happy sounds and so do I,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Yes, let’s do it! Let’s elope to Niagara Falls and dress in old-fashioned clothes and pose for wedding pictures at one of those going-over-the-falls-in-a-barrel photo places.”
Barrett grins and murmurs, “Ridiculous,” but the word doesn’t bother me anymore. Because now I know he has a secret love for “ridiculous” things nearly as big as his love for me.
A nd so, just one week later, I find myself in the honeymoon suite of a cheesy Niagara Falls hotel, newly married and in possession of more old-timey, sepia-tinted photos than any reasonable woman should possess.
“We’re adorable if I do say so myself.” I lift a picture of Barrett scowling stiffly in a barrel with me on his back. “This one’s my favorite.”
“You’re my favorite,” he says, tackling me back onto our giant, pink, heart-shaped wedding bed, where he proves it.
Starling
T he wedding photos start popping up in my messages around four o’clock.
“It’s time!” I shout.
“Got it!” Nora, Barrett’s neighbor, who’s helping me watch Keanu and Kyle at Barrett’s house in the name of overcoming her fear of animals, dashes into the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of tequila, salt, and lime slices we prepared earlier. As she settles back beside me at the table on the back porch, she asks, “So what are the rules? You take a shot if Barrett’s scowling and I take a shot if Wren’s laughing?”
“No, the opposite,” I say, swiping my tongue across the skin between my pointer finger and thumb and shaking a bit of salt onto the damp spot. “If we did it that way, we’d be wasted in five minutes.”
Nora laughs. “Good point. Though Barrett does smile a lot more now that Wren’s around. They’re so good together. Is it okay I’m a little sad that we didn’t get to watch them say their vows? I bet they would have been so romantic.”
“They’ll be romantic at the reception they’re throwing next weekend,” I say. “And I sort of love that they’re doing this their way. No worries about pleasing the families or putting on a big event or being the center of attention. They just want to make their promises to each other in private.”
“With a few sweet Canadians around to bear witness,” Nora says with a nod. “You’re right. That is nice.” She lifts her tequila shot glass. “To Wren and Barrett. Long may they live, laugh, and love.”
I clink my glass to hers. “To Barrett and Wren, my sweet sister who deserves the most beautiful happily ever after, with the grump of her dreams.”
Nora laughs and nods toward my phone. “Wren’s frowning in that shot! Do I drink?”
I glance down at the screen and grin. “That’s the fakest scowl I’ve ever seen.” Wren is next to Barrett in a fake wooden barrel, wagging a chastising finger at him as they prepare to “go over the falls” in the painted background behind them. “But we should count it. We might not get another frown from her today. She said they’re having an amazing time.”
Nora winces as she swallows her shot. “Woof. That’s stronger than I remember. Oh, and there’s a smile from Barrett! Your turn.”
In the next pic, Barrett is smiling down at Wren in front of a backdrop that reads “Loose Slots and Looser Women.” He’s wearing a vintage suit costume with a tall black hat and my sister is dressed like the owner of a Victorian brothel, complete with boob-squishing corset. I’m not sure if he’s smiling at her face or at her cleavage, but either way it counts.
So does the picture of the two of them laughing their heads off inside a haunted mansion and a shot of Barrett holding Wren upside down in front of an upside-down house. By the time we get to the last shot—a close-up portrait of the two of them smiling into each other’s shining eyes in front of the man who married them—I’m too tipsy to keep going.
“Gotta stop, no more shots,” I say, my words slurring a little. “I have to get up early tomorrow with the fur and feather babies. I can’t afford a hangover.” I sniff and point to my phone. “But I still love you guys. You’re going to have a beautiful life together.”
I text Wren as much. She texts back that she and Barrett are getting ready to head to dinner after their afternoon “nap,” and that she’ll check in on Sunday morning before they fly home. “I love love,” I say, lifting my water glass to the backyard, now drenched in sunset light that makes the first fall leaves glow red and yellow above the still green grass.
“Me, too.” Nora sighs, gazing wistfully out to where Keanu and Kyle are playing in the sandbox I set up for them not far from Barrett’s grill station. “I guess I should try to date. There just never seems to be time.”
“I hear you,” I say. “I’ve been killing myself at my new job. I don’t want them to have any doubts that picking me to be Christian’s boss instead of vice versa was the right call.”
Nora hums beneath her breath. “Yeah, I can see why you’d worry. He’s older and a guy and has been with the organization longer, even if it was just in a volunteer capacity.” She shrugs. “But you won’t have to worry about that soon, so that’s good.”
I glance her way, my brows pinching together. “What?”
Nora blinks her slightly hazy-looking blue eyes. “He’s going to work for Warm Hearts, the emergency shelter for unhoused women non-profit over in Minneapolis.”
I lean forward, bracing my arms on the patio table as my eyes go wide. “What?”
“You didn’t know?” Nora tugs at the neck of her fluffy black sweater. “Oh no, maybe I wasn’t supposed to say anything. My friend Katia told me when I was over there donating a bunch of socks that didn’t sell last quarter. Turns out my clients don’t want socks. Or sock caps. Basically, anything sock or sock adjacent isn’t going to fly. Though they did really like the berets so I’m bringing those back for my winter collection this year.”
“When?” I ask, not doubting her intelligence for a minute. I’m not friends with Katia, the woman who founded Warm Hearts, but I know she’s the head of the board. If she says Christian is in, he’s in. “When does he start?”
“November, I think?” Nora says, clearly uncomfortable. “But I could be wrong. Ugh, I feel awful. I should have kept my mouth shut. I didn’t mean to spill Christian’s secrets. But Katia is very excited to have him and then he’ll be out of your hair, too. So that’s probably a good thing, right?”
I huff, waving a dismissive hand as I sag back into my chair. “Totally. It’s a great thing. Who cares where Christian goes next as long as it’s far away from me?”
I care, that’s who.
Christian and I have actually been getting along really well the past couple months. He even offered to teach me how to ride a motorcycle and was really helpful when Kyle tried to jump into the cake at the wedding. In fact, for a few seconds there, as we were locked in a janitor’s closet with a pouting, gargling Kyle pacing the floor between us, waiting it out until the cake was cut and safely tucked away in the marina’s kitchen again, I thought he might kiss me.
The way he was looking at me…
The way his head bent closer to mine…
The way my lips tingled every time his gaze dropped to my mouth…
But he didn’t kiss me. He didn’t make a move and neither did I.
I’m his boss, after all, and that’s something I take seriously. I don’t want to abuse my power or make one of my employees feel like they can’t say no to my amorous advances. And then there’s the added hiccup of Christian being my brand-new brother-in-law’s brother. If we had a failed romance, Thanksgiving dinner could get real awkward, real quick.
“It’s already going to be awkward because I refuse to let anyone eat turkey in Kyle’s presence,” I murmur, prompting Nora to ask, “What was that?”
“I was just thinking about Thanksgiving,” I say, pushing Christian to the back of my thoughts. “It will be here before you know it and Wren and I are going to Barrett’s parents’ house this year. I should start talking the McGuires into serving tofu turkey now. While I still have time. I can’t let Kyle see something like that. Everyone thinks turkeys are stupid, but they’re really not. He’ll see that carcass and know something heinous went down in the kitchen. It could scar him for life.”
Nora shoots me a pitying glance. “Yeah, or you could save your breath and leave Kyle with me for the day. Gram and I are going to do our usual ice cream and popcorn for Thanksgiving dinner tradition. She can’t eat turkey or potatoes or cranberries, so we do our own thing. Probably a safer bet than trying to sway the McGuires over to the soy side.”
“Probably,” I agree. “But are you sure? You’re not scared of Kyle? He can be a lot, especially when he’s in a new place.”
“We’ll let him run around in my backyard,” she says. “And I’ll leave the shed open with the space heater running in case he gets cold. Our fence is higher than Barrett’s so there’s no danger of him getting out, and you can just come to the gate and grab him when you’re ready.”
“Sounds good, thanks,” I say, even though I haven’t completely given up on swaying the McGuires. I’m more stubborn than Nora knows.
I’m also more intoxicated than I realized.
When I stand to walk her to the front door twenty minutes later, my legs feel significantly wobblier than they did before. And when I look in the mirror by the entryway table, my cheeks are flushed a bright pink. My lips are a little swollen—probably from the salt—and my eyes glitter with irritation.
Or is that…determination?
After all, it looks like Christian is on his way out as my employee. And he’ll be moving a good distance from Bad Dog. If things went hideously awry between us, I wouldn’t have to worry about running into him at the grocery store and it’s not like I want love and romance or anything a serial monogamist like Christian can’t give.
I just want sex. Full-on sex. Not the piddly, pawing, almost-but-not-quite-the-real-deal stuff I got from Tyson for the last full year of our relationship. My college boyfriend pretended to be the typical, sex-crazed, beer-loving frat boy, but deep down he was terrified of my vagina.
And my vagina is very clean and lovely and welcoming and does not have any secret hidden teeth or anything. He was clearly just a big scaredy cat.
Or maybe he was gay and afraid to come out of the closet to his very traditional family? Or maybe I’m just the un-sexiest human ever to don a lace teddy on Valentine’s Day.
The memory still makes me cringe. Instead of horny, Tyson had looked horrified to find me half-naked on the bed in his single dorm room. He couldn’t cover me up or hustle me out to get ice cream fast enough.
“But I didn’t want ice cream,” I tell my reflection, “I wanted dick.”
And I still want dick. I’m tired of not knowing what all the sex fuss is about! I’m twenty-three and just generally over being a virgin. No shade to those who aren’t, but for me, personally, it’s time to take the bull by the horns.
Or the peen by the balls?
Hell, if I know. I’ve seen as much porn as the next sex-starved twenty-something, but do men really like it if you fondle their berries while you’re doing other things to their twig? Color me clueless. Tyson didn’t seem to like much of anything I did to him when we were semi-naked, no matter how hard I tried. (Though he did manage to cheat on me with another woman, which only adds to my fears that there’s something wrong with me .)
But Christian would be different. I know he would.
The way he looked at me in that janitor’s closet…
I’m willing to bet my right pinkie finger that Christian would relish anything I wanted to do with his twig and definitely wouldn’t kick me out of bed for wearing sexy lingerie. And with only a month or so to go before he switches jobs, even if he did reject me, I wouldn’t have to deal with the shame of it for long.
I just have to think of the perfect way to approach him.
Or, I could make a drunken phone call and leave a message on his voicemail saying, “Hey, I heard you were leaving town. Should we get naked and have some fun before you do, or what? Just low-key, you and me, blowing off some steam. I don’t know. Sounds like it could be a good time. Let me know. This is Starling, by the way. And I am currently wearing panties, but that’s a situation that could be changed pretty quickly if you wanted to come over. I’m housesitting at Barrett’s for the weekend.”
I end the phone call, my heart racing but feeling pretty good about my flirty tone.
Chest still fluttering with nerves, I make myself a grilled cheese and a side salad and eat before going out to fetch Kyle and Keanu. I give them their dinner, turn on America’s Funniest Home Videos—their favorite show—and head into the guest bathroom to take a shower, drinking a big glass of water before I get into the spray.
By the time I emerge half an hour later, my excited flutters have transformed to dread. Another glass of water and a few sobering gulps of hot tea and I’m rapidly sinking in shame quicksand, pretty sure I’ll never live down the mortification of that phone call.
Especially considering he hasn’t texted or called me back.
That’s when I remember it’s Friday night. Christian bowls with his friends on Friday nights and he doesn’t seem like the type to be checking his phone every few minutes while he’s having a good time with his buddies. Which means there’s a chance he hasn’t heard the voice message yet.
So, if a girl could get to that phone and say, submerge it in a pitcher of bowling alley beer before it was too late…
“Be good, you two,” I say, throwing on a light jacket over my sweatpants and t-shirt and racing for the door. “I’ll be back in no more than an hour.”
I grab my keys and race out to my car, praying I’ll get to Christian’s phone in time to save myself further shame and humiliation. But even as I drive quickly, but carefully and soberly, through the back streets toward the bowling alley, I have a feeling this genie isn’t going back in its bottle.
At least not without turning my life upside down first.