Chapter 17
“You sure you’re happy with a city hall wedding?” Millie checks again, hopping down from the ladder and admiring her handiwork. I didn’t even want a reception, but Greaser insisted, and we compromised on having something lowkey back here, once the paperwork is done.
“I just want all this over before the baby gets here,” I remind her, staring across the barroom and wishing Vike were here. I should hate him for leaving me with no explanation, but I can’t bring myself to do that. I’ve been in love with him for far too long.
“There’s my girl!” Greaser steps in from outside, looking pleased to see me.
‘How was work?” I ask, knowing he’s been working really hard at the new garage. He wants so much to make the place a success, not just to impress Raze, but to provide for us. No wonder he’s been a little more stressed lately.
“We’re just making the final touches to this place, ready for tomorrow,” Freya tells him excitedly.
“You girls should go into business.” Greaser smiles as he looks at the white fabric draped over the ceiling and walls. Even all the chairs have perfectly constructed bows tied around them.
“Mom’s gonna love this; which reminds me, she’s arriving first thing in the morning. We'd better get Vike’s old room cleared out when we get home.” Greaser grabs my face and kisses me as he sits beside me and rests his hand on top of my bump.
The idea of boxing up Vike’s things makes me even madder at the man for leaving without a goodbye or an explanation.
“Ahhh, is she staying for the wedding?” Eden asks, pulling the thread through her needle and making another adjustment to her bridesmaid dress. She’s really starting to show now and, unlike me, she seems to be glowing.
“Yep, and for the birth,” he answers, taking me completely by surprise.
“And the birth?” I repeat, hoping I heard him wrong.
“There's no point in her going home in between, not when you're so close. This last month is gonna fly by.” He shakes his hand excitedly.
“I didn’t know she was planning on staying with us when the baby comes.” I try not to let the disappointment come out in my voice.
“Alicia, this is her first grandchild; where else would she be? Besides, we’re gonna need her help.
You're great with Rory, but you have no idea how to take care of a newborn.” He reaches across to kiss my cheek, and I notice the look that passes between Freya and Millie.
“Did Alicia show you the blanket she’s made?
” he asks them. “Mom’s spent the last few months sewing and knitting; our girl’s gonna be completely spoilt.
” He looks down at the hand that's still caressing my bump and smiles, and before they can answer, the door opens and a girl none of us have seen before steps inside, carrying a huge bouquet of flowers.
“Is there an Alicia here?” she calls out softly, looking nervous to be here and totally out of place in the cute dungarees she’s wearing, along with the two innocent braids she has on each side of her head.
We all turn our heads to the bar when Saint goes to stand up and loses the barstool from under him.
He smiles at the girl awkwardly as he picks it back up and places it on its feet.
“That’s me.” I go to stand up, but Greaser forces me back down, stepping up to the girl himself and taking the flowers from her hand.
“Thanks.” He smiles at the girl, admiring them before handing them to me. “We can’t have a bride without a bouquet.” He winks, and when I look awkwardly at Millie, I hate how nervous I feel at the fact I’m going to have to say something.
“Greaser, these are beautiful, but me and the girl’s ordered the wedding flowers weeks ago.
The colors in my bouquet match the color of the dresses the girls will be wearing.
” I may have made it clear that I wanted no fuss with this wedding, but they were never gonna let me take away their chance to be bridesmaids again.
“These are white roses and lily of the valley; the same that Mom had in her bouquet. She asked me to organize it for you as a surprise.” Greaser is looking disappointed, which I guess is better than mad.
I’ve been wary around him ever since he lost his temper the other night, which I can hardly blame him for; the man is sexually frustrated and run off his feet at the garage.
“Maybe, when the flowers arrive in the morning, we can add some color from the bouquet you ordered to this one?” Freya suggests.
“Mom never had any blue in her bouquet; she hates that color.” Greaser shuts her down, then turns his head to me. “You already refused to wear the dress she gave you. Do you want to upset her some more by not carrying her bouquet, too?” he questions me, with a hint of that rage in his pupils.
“I don’t want to upset anyone, Greaser. I thought we both agreed that that dress— even if I did want to wear it, there’s no way I could fit in it anymore. The thing was tight on me two months ago.” I smile, hoping it will eliminate some of the tension that's building.
“The dress was Mom’s way to make you feel welcome in our family. The bouquet was the same, but it's your day, you have it how you want.” He snatches the bouquet from my hands and tosses it, flowers headfirst, into the trash can by the bar.
“Greaser, I never said I wouldn’t carry the bouquet.” I use the table to help me get on my feet, making my way across the room so I can drag them back out. When I realize the girl who delivered them is still here, I smile at her, embarrassed.
“I hope you enjoy your day,” she tells me before making her exit.
“Hey, wait up.” Saint quickly chases her out the door, almost tripping on his feet, while I carry the flowers back over toward Greaser.
“They’re beautiful; I love them,” I tell him softly, reaching up on my toes to kiss his bearded jaw.
“They’re ruined,” he growls back, still looking displeased.
“It's nothing we can’t fix. We should take them home and put them in some water.” I look back over my shoulder to the girls, who are all looking concerned.
I don’t want them to start questioning my decisions.
Greaser’s under a lot of stress; they’d be wrong to judge him on how he’s behaved in front of them.
“Fine.” He takes the bouquet from my hands and presses his palm into the base of my spine, starting to guide me to the door before I even have a chance to say goodbye and thank them for all their hard work today.
“See you in the morning; I’ll be the pregnant one in the white dress,” I call back at them over my shoulder, trying my best to sound excited.
“Have you got a problem with my mom?” Greasers asks me as we walk through the door at home.
“No, not at all; I think your mom is lovely. I just worry that she can be a little overbearing at times.” I reach under the sink to get a vase, filling it with water to stand the bouquet in, so I can rearrange some of the crushed flowers.
“I guess I just figured it would be you and me alone when the baby arrives. I want some time to myself so I can bond with her,” I explain, really hoping he changes his mind about her staying here with us after the wedding.
I don’t think a month with Iris here would fly by at all.
“Baby, you’ve carried her for nine months; how much more bonded do you wanna be?
” He smothers me again, taking my head in his oily hands and filling my mouth with his tongue.
“Perhaps you should be focusing more on our bond. We’re gonna be husband and wife, tomorrow,” he reminds me, and puts that heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach when I think about what he’s going to be expecting from me tomorrow night.
“Well, don't you think it’s going to be awkward with your mother right across the hall?” I try using what I can to my advantage.
“You planning on being loud for me, darlin’?
” He laughs against my mouth, and I manage to smile like the idea doesn’t make me queasy.
“Mom being with us is a good thing. I want the two of you to get along,” he tells me, dragging himself away to get a beer from the fridge.
“Especially since you don’t have a good relationship with your own mom.
That ain’t the kinda example you wanna set for our little girl, is it?
” he checks before twisting the cap on his bottle.
“Before you start drinking, I was hoping we could practise those breathing exercises again. We haven’t done it in a while, and like you said, the time is getting closer.” I’ll do anything to get off the subject of mothers, right now. Even sit and go through those ridiculous YouTube videos again.
“You don’t need any more practise, you were perfect at it last time,” he tells me, lifting the bottle to his mouth as he heads for the couch.
“Well... do you really think you should be drinking at all? What if I go into labor? Am I supposed to drive myself to the hospital?” I question him, wondering where this change has suddenly come from. He’s gone from borderline obsession to completely uninterested.
“And here was me thinking the woman turned into a nag after the wedding.” He laughs at me.
“Baby, you need to relax, our girl’s still got another month of growing to do.
Maybe I should start making you fewer pancakes.
” He pinches some of my belly skin and winks before laughing some more, and it makes me look down at my ever-expanding body and feel self-conscious about it.
I know that I’ve gotten a lot bigger over the past few weeks, but the doctor said that’s perfectly normal.
“Come here, darlin’, you know I don’t mind it. I just keep thinkin’ how much hotter you’ll look when you're carrying the child I put inside you.” He takes another swig from his beer and wraps his arm around my shoulder, holding me tight against him and making me feel imprisoned.
I stay quiet and still, my head screaming at me to stop being stupid and to set myself free, and my heart pines for a man who’s miles away and doesn’t want me.