51. June
51
JUNE
T oday, I married the man that I love. I also discovered that his parents were sexual freaks in their youth, and I never, ever needed to know that. Okay, maybe not freaks. Maybe they were just free with their bodies, and oh God, I never, ever needed to know that. As horrified as I am to learn these things, I'm sure that Anderson feels worse. He looks a little green.
“Sweetie, are the oysters not settling for you?”
“No, the oysters are fine,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Kitty smirks at him. “I thought I raised you to be less judgmental than this, young man.”
He laughs once. “Then you thought wrong, Mom.”
Elliott rolls his eyes. “Here, I thought you were the evolved one.”
“I both need to know, and I need to never know what I’m about to ask you. How many of our family friends have you two slept with?”
They both shrug innocently enough. Kitty says, “Well, that all stopped once your father put a ring on my finger.”
Elliot nods. “We've been monogamous ever since.”
I wonder how true that is, but I don't voice my question. Anderson forges ahead. “But before there was a ring on your finger?”
“It was a long time ago, Anderson,” his mother begins. “Truth be told, I'm not entirely certain. But not that many.”
His father says, “Not that it's any of your business.”
“It is my business when it's people that we actually do business with.”
But his father waves his hand in the air dismissively. “It's nothing for you to concern yourself with.”
He gives me such a helpless look that I have to laugh. The dinner has been uncomfortable, fun, and a little weird. If his parents had yelled at us or something, I might have felt less guilty about eloping. But they've been perfectly pleasant about it, and somehow, that makes me feel worse.
We finish with dessert, and Elliot insists on picking up the check. He tells Anderson, “I won't hear another word about it. We didn't have the chance to pay for any sort of reception, so let us cover this.”
Anderson holds out his hands in a helpless gesture. “I'll consider it payment toward my therapist.”
Elliott smiles, shaking his head. He looks so much like Anderson when he does that. It wouldn't bother me as much if I didn't hate the guy. “Whatever you like, son.”
When we're outside at the valet, Kitty says, “We absolutely must host a reception for you. I'll take care of all the details. You don't have to do anything but show up. That'll give our friends and family a chance to celebrate the two of you. Please, you must say yes.”
How can I possibly say no to that? And I try to figure out exactly how to say no for as long as I can hold out before decorum says I have to answer. I come up with nothing. “That sounds wonderful, Kitty. Thank you.”
“Wonderful.” She pulls me into a hug. “June, you are absolutely welcome in our family. I am so glad to have you.”
It's odd, but I get choked up at the thought. The truth is, with my messed up family, it's sort of nice to join a family that's big and welcoming and warm. Elliot aside, of course. Even though his parents only have two sons, the rest of the family is big and they're quite social with one another. I've always wanted that and never thought I’d have it.
Now I do.
Their car comes first, and we say our goodbyes. Once in our car, I sort of expect conversation to erupt, but there's not a lot left to say. Or maybe today has been so emotional that we're both exhausted. But my nerves are having a go at me.
I don't mention it until we're inside of our apartment. “Should I have pushed back when your mom offered the reception?”
Anderson pops a bottle of champagne, pouring two glasses. “Why would you do that?”
“I thought we weren't doing a reception or a big wedding party or whatever. When she brought it up, I thought you might say something. When you didn't, I felt like I was sort of forced into saying yes.”
He delivers the glass of champagne and I down it fast. “I didn't say anything because I wanted this to be your choice.”
“Like I could tell your mom no after stealing her son away to marry him?”
“So Mom is going to get her way on everything from here on out?”
“Well, no, but I'm thinking that she gets some leeway today.”
He lifts a shoulder in a casual shrug. “That seems fair. You did steal her son, after all.”
I smack his chest. “I'm being serious. Your family, your family's friends, everybody's gonna be at this thing. I won't have anyone. It's kind of intimidating.”
He pulls me close. “You'll have me.”
“You know what I mean.”
“So invite some people. You have parents. You have friends. I'm sure Mom would love to get to know all of them.”
“Oh, my hell.” I slipped past him and grabbed the bottle to chug from.
“What is it?”
“The thought of my friends and family meeting your friends and family feels like two worlds colliding that were never supposed to.”
He smiles, then turns me and wraps me in his arms from behind. His heat flows through me. “We're married. Of course, they were going to meet. It was just a matter of time.”
“I know, I know.”
“Better sooner rather than later. You know, rip the old Band-Aid off.”
“Gee, you make it sound romantic.”
He laughs and moves my hair over my shoulder to kiss my bare neck. It sends a shiver down my spine. “There is no mountain we cannot climb together, Mrs. West.”
“Yeah, about that,” I start, turning to face him. “I’m not sure I want to change my name.”
“We talked about it before. I remember.” His hands slide to my ass for a less-than-sneaky grab. “But I like calling you Mrs. West. Even if you don’t change it, allow me that.”
I loop his neck with my arms. “You don’t mind?”
“You’re not my property, June. You’re my equal. Hell, if you want to come up with a new last name for us, I’d be down for that, too. Although, I do think it might behoove you professionally since Dad had you blackballed.”
“I was thinking the same thing about my professional reputation.”
He kisses the tip of my nose. “See? Great minds and all that.”
I take a breath, happy to be in his arms again. “So, you think the reception will be a good thing?”
“Absolutely not.”
I laugh. “What?”
“It’ll be some overwrought production put on by my mother to impress her friends and our family. You heard about George’s wedding at dinner—what makes you think it will be any better than that?”
“Oh god?—"
“But, you will be there. I will be there. And by our powers combined, we will make things as tolerable as possible.” He pulls me in tight against him. “I have faith that you and I can survive anything this world will throw at us. Including Mom’s choices of canape. And what the hell is a tablescape anyway?”
I snort a laugh and lean against his shoulder. “It’s how you decorate a table for an event.”
“Isn’t that just the decorations?”
“No—there are decorations that can go places other than the tables.”
“I am the luckiest man alive.”
“How’s that?”
His smile is so mischievous that I feel it in my bones. “Because my wife is the smartest woman alive. She knows what a tablescape is.”
“Thank god you set all your standards nice and low. That should make for a wonderful marriage.”
He laughs and kisses me. It’s gentle at first, but gradually, he backs me against the kitchen island. I’m trapped between it and him, and I haven’t felt this good in a while. Maybe ever.
I’m kissing my husband. That realization keeps hitting me. I’m not sure if the thrill of being married to Anderson will ever go away, but for now, I’m happy to be under this spell.
He pulls back and presses his forehead to mine. At this angle, though, that’s not the only part of him pressing on me. His voice is raw with need as he says, “All the reception stuff is just background noise. We can worry about it later. It is my sincere hope, Mrs. West, that you can put that aside and focus on what’s important tonight.”
I lick my lips, hoping this is going where I think it’s going. “And what’s that, Mr. West?”
“Tonight is our wedding night, and I need to make my wife come with my name on her lips.”
I take another sip of the champagne bottle, trying to slow things down. I want tonight to last forever. “Your goals are agreeable upon one condition.”
He grinds his erection against my hip. “Are we negotiating?”
I want to jump him right here and now. But if he can drag this out, so can I. “We are in deep negotiations. I dare say we could be at this all night.”
There’s a look in his eyes that tells me he is barely hanging on by a thread. “What would that condition be, councilor?”
“That you say my name when you come, too.”
Lust fills his eyes as he growls, “I find your terms agreeable.”