Chapter 10 #2
“Sometimes.” I shrugged and handed her a couple of warm tortillas. “If it’s somethin’ specific.”
“Oh,” she breathed.
She followed me through the kitchen and eventually to the table where my family had kindly left us a couple of seats. I pulled her chair out for her and she’d barely sat down before she started to pop back up again.
“We forgot drinks,” she murmured apologetically.
I set my hand on her shoulder to stop her. “I’ll get ’em. You want some ice water?”
“Yes, please.”
“You all set for the big day?” my dad asked her as I walked back to the fridge.
“I think so,” Esther replied hesitantly.
“We’re set,” my mom confirmed. “Now we just need to deal with the food. We’ll pick up flowers the night before.”
“Oh yeah? From where?”
“That little stand down the road,” my mom replied proudly. “We talked to Brandon and he said he has everything we’ll need. We can just go over and he’ll cut it right then and we can assemble the bouquets.”
“He was surprisingly nice about it,” Emilia said dryly. “Considering Heather knocked on his front door out of nowhere.”
“Well, I’d rather pay him for it than some big store,” Mom said defensively. “He was happy for the business.”
“Here you go,” I said quietly, setting down Esther’s glass of water before dropping into my seat. I dug in, glancing to make sure that Esther was eating, too. I wasn’t sure what kind of food she liked, but she must not have minded the tacos because she was slowly making her way through it.
“Myla, Esther’s going to stay in the extra bedroom, so after dinner, I want you to remake the bed with clean sheets,” my mom ordered, pointing at her.
“Say what?” I mumbled around the food in my mouth.
“Esther’s staying here until the wedding.”
“The hell she is,” I argued.
“Otto,” Esther chided softly.
“You wanna stay here?” I asked in confusion.
I’d been counting down the minutes in the back of my head until I could get her alone.
We had about a thousand things to talk about and she hadn’t even seen where we’d be living.
How the hell were we going to be ready to get married if she was staying with my parents?
How were we supposed to get to know each other when we were constantly surrounded by my family, for fucks sake?
“Just until we’re married.”
“You’re kiddin’, right?” I asked, staring at her.
“We shouldn’t be staying together before we’re married,” she replied stubbornly.
“I think it’s probably a little late for that worry, don’t you?” I barked, looking down at her stomach.
“Otto,” my dad growled. “Knock it off.”
Esther set her taco carefully onto her plate and dropped her hands onto her lap, her face bright red. She didn’t say a word.
“No,” I announced, going back to my food. “You’re stayin’ with me.”
Everyone stared at us, and the table was abnormally quiet while everyone finished their meal. The tension was so high that even Rhett sat quietly.
“I’m home,” Titus called from the front door, slamming it behind him. “Where is everyone?”
“Kitchen,” my dad yelled back. “Where the hell you been? I called you twice.”
“My phone died,” he said, his eyes widening as he noticed all of us at the table. “Did I miss the memo?” His mouth dropped open in shock when he saw Esther. “What the fuck?”
“Language,” I barked.
Rumi laughed, and Nova elbowed him in the side, hissing at him to be quiet.
“You know Esther from school, right?” my mom said dryly. “Her and Otto are getting married.”
“What?” His eyes looked like they were about to bulge out of his head.
“Hi Titus,” Esther said calmly. “It’s nice to see you again.”
He just stood there, dumbly staring at Esther.
“For fuck’s sake,” my dad grumbled, getting up from his seat. He walked over to my little brother and shoved him toward the kitchen. “Get some food.”
The last half of dinner passed quickly. The tension from Esther and I arguing forgotten, and before long, the women were clearing the table and doing the dishes while the rest of us made our way into the living room.
“How the hell is she here?” Titus hissed, glancing over his shoulder. “What the fuck is going on?”
“You seem to care an awful lot about your brother’s fiancée,” my dad commented easily, staring at Titus.
“I just spent the last hour with her little sister cryin’ on my shoulder because she thought Esther had died in a car accident this morning,” Titus blurted incredulously.
“So that’s the story they’re usin’?” Micky muttered, shaking his head. “Why am I not surprised?”
“How do you know her sister?” Rumi asked, leaning back on the couch with his feet crossed. He looked amused.
“We’re friends,” Titus replied defensively.
“You’re friends?” My dad was not amused.
“She’s younger than me, but we had a class together,” Titus mumbled, scrubbing his hands over his face. “They think Esther is dead. Noel’s going to lose it when she finds out Esther’s okay.”
I grit my teeth and inhaled slowly through my nose.
“You can’t tell her.” I reached out and squeezed Titus’ shoulder. “Not a word.”
“What?” His eyes widened in shock as he looked at each of us. “Why the hell not? That’s her sister!”
“Doesn’t matter,” Dad replied. “You keep your mouth shut.”
“No fuckin’ way!”
Dad’s hand shot out like a python and gripped Titus’s chin, jerking his face up. “This is nonnegotiable, Titus. You fuckin’ say anythin’ to her sister, you’ll be drinkin’ your cheeseburgers through a straw, got me?”
Titus made a noise in his throat, angrily staring at my dad, but after a moment gave a short nod. When my dad let go of his face, he took a step backward and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Do I get to know what the hell is goin’ on?” he muttered angrily.
I met my dad’s gaze and nodded. While we didn’t usually clue Titus in on club shit, this time we needed to make a bit of an exception.
He was clearly connected to what was going on, even if it was a loose connection, and if we were going to ask him to keep his mouth shut, he needed a reason.
By the look on his face, Titus was contemplating if telling Noel that her sister was alive might be worth the broken jaw my dad had threatened.
“Esther’s pop is in the Sons of Calgary,” Dad said, watching Titus’s face for any sign of recognition.
“What, the church they go to?” Titus asked, relaxing fractionally.
“Connected to it,” I confirmed. “But the members—”
“The men,” Rumi clarified.
“It’s not just a church, yeah?” I said, nodding at Rumi. “They’re a fuckin’ militia group.”
“No fuckin’ way,” Titus muttered.
“Long story short,” I said, ignoring him. “They stole some shit from the club. Followed some leads and found it out in a cabin in the middle of nowhere.”
“That doesn’t explain,” Titus said, jerking his head toward the kitchen where Esther was helping the women.
“Esther was there. At the cabin.”
“Okay,” he said, drawing out the word.
“They rigged the shit so when she called for help, the entire cabin would explode,” my dad spat.
Titus choked and jerked his head back in horror.
“So,” I continued. “We’re gonna let them think that their little plan worked. For now.”
Titus was quiet for a long moment, letting the revelations sink in. Then he opened his mouth, closed it again, and finally spoke. “That doesn’t explain why you’re marrying her.”
Esther chose that moment to walk into the living room looking for me.
“Oh,” Titus said in understanding, his eyes on her waistline.
“Am I interrupting?” Esther asked, pausing.
“Not at all,” I assured her. “What’s up, sugar?”
Rumi snorted quietly. I ignored him.
“I thought you might want to see what we bought today?” she murmured shyly with a shrug.
“The dress?” I teased, heading toward her. My dad could deal with Titus.
“I told you,” she said as I led her toward the spare bedroom. “You can see that on our wedding day.”
“It’s awful, huh?” I joked. “Afraid I’ll change my mind once I see what you picked out?”
Esther huffed and looked at me over her shoulder, rolling her eyes. “Nice try.”
I shrugged.
“It’s really pretty,” she assured me as we reached the guest room. “A little more revealing than I’m used to.”
“Ooh,” I murmured, closing the door behind us as I imagined Esther in a cleavage-baring dress. I immediately shot that image down. I doubted she meant something that revealing. She’d spend our entire wedding blushing the color of a tomato.
My parents had gotten rid of our old bunk bed and replaced it with a queen, and the entire bed was covered in bags.
“We got tablecloths,” Esther said, reaching into a bag. “But they’re just rentals—did you know you could rent tablecloths?”
“I didn’t,” I replied in amusement.
“We got napkins, too. Your mom said that the club has plenty of dishes and silverware and all of that stuff.”
“They do,” I confirmed, leaning back against the door.
She’d been nervous when they left that morning. Scared, even. But the day with my mom and the girls seemed to have settled her. I thought it might be a stretch to say that she was excited, but she seemed calmer at least.
“We’re going to put these in the middle of the tables,” she said, pulling a little glass vase out of one of the bags and dropping a tiny candle into it. “Pretty, right?”
“Very.”
She stopped, the vase in her hand, and looked at me. “You don’t care about any of this, do you?”
I laughed. “Not really.”
Her shoulders slumped.
“If you like it, I like it,” I assured her, stepping further into the room. “You like it?”
“Your mom’s really good at making things look pretty,” she replied, gesturing at the room around us. “I think it’s going to look really nice.”
“As long as you’re there, I doubt I’ll notice any of it,” I confessed, reaching out to pull her toward me. The vase dropped onto the bed with a quiet thunk. “How are you doin’?”
“I don’t know,” she said, leaning against me, her head tilted back to look at my face. “It feels like we’re in some alternate universe.”
“It’s fast,” I agreed. “That’s why I want you comin’ home with me tonight. Give us a couple of days to get used to each other, yeah?”
“No.” She shook her head, her chin jutting out stubbornly. “Not until we’re married.”
“You don’t want to fuck until we’re married,” I said, reasonably, I thought. “We won’t.”
She scowled and pushed out of my arms.
“What?”
“We’ve already—” She threw her arms out in frustration. “I don’t want to live with you before we’re married, too.”
“It’s four days.”
“Exactly.” She crossed her arms and glared. “We can wait four days.”
“That doesn’t make any fuckin’ sense.”
“Could you stop swearing at me, please?”
“I’m not swearing at you.”
Esther let out a small screech, barely a sound, and my eyes widened. I waited for her to stomp her foot like a little kid and was surprised when she just glared at me.
“We’ve already done this completely backward,” she said through clenched teeth. “And we’re getting married in four days, and I barely know you and—I just—I just want the rest of it to be right, okay?”
“Okay,” I said softly as her eyes grew glassy. “Alright. Stay here.”
“Thank you.” Her shoulders slumped.
“But I’m pickin’ you up in the mornin’,” I said firmly. “And we’re gonna go over to the house so you can at least get familiar with shit over there.”
“I’m sure it’s fine.”
“It’s fuckin’ awesome,” I replied, making her smile faintly. “But you’re gonna be livin’ there. I want you to see it before you move in.”
“You can still change your mind. We can bring this stuff back and get a refund,” she said as I reached out to pull her into my arms again.
“You’re not bringin’ anythin’ back,” I replied.
Once the decision had been made, I’d spent the entire day coming to terms with it, and now I couldn’t imagine not marrying Esther.
It was going to be like living in the twilight zone for a while and I was sure that shit was going to come up that neither of us was prepared for—but I wanted her with me.
“Even if I poop my pants?” she asked with mock seriousness.
“Please don’t.”
Esther laughed and dropped her head against my chest. After a moment, she popped back up again. “What is your favorite color?”
“Blue.”
“I got it right,” she said happily, letting out a sigh.
“So smart,” I murmured, leaning down to kiss her.