“Let me see that ring!” Sophia yelled.
“Why is she crying?” Simon asked, panicked.
“Her mother scared her half to death!” Neil yelled, also frantic.
“Everyone calm down,” I soothed, trying to move over toward the couch, but unable to do so because Sophia had a vicelike grip on my hand. I expected her to pull a jeweler’s loupe out of her nightgown.
“How do we make her stop?”
“Just walk her, Simon!”
“I don’t know how to stand up with her!”
“Is this two-point-five karats?”
“Call the nurse, she won’t stop crying!”
“Babies cry, Neil.”
“Someone help us!”
“Go get my baby from the Keystone Cops, would you?”
“Oh, for pity’s sake,” I said, snatching my hand away and crossing to the couch. “Hey, little miss, it’s okay,” I soothed, plucking Mary Jane neatly from Simon’s arms and cuddling her close. “Shh, shh, it’s okay. No more screaming, I promise. Everyone your parents know just happens to be crazy, okay? Shh, shh . . .” I brought her to Sophia, who began to lower the front of her gown.
“Oh, I, uh . . . I should step out, I, uh . . .” Simon said, getting up from the couch.
“They’re just boobs, Simon,” Sophia scolded, reaching up for Mary Jane and bringing her to her breast. It was surprising just how natural it all was. Here we all were, four best friends, one of whom had her tits out. And this was just how it was now. Except for Simon’s eyeballs, which were currently staring everywhere but where the action was.
Neil came over to stand by the bed, and he finally saw what Sophia had been screaming about.
“Hey, what’s that on your finger there?” he asked, looking down at my ring.
“What does it look like?” I teased, holding it up for him to see. He looked back and forth between me, the ring, and finally Simon.
“Dude?”
“Dude.”
“Dude!” Neil exclaimed, and picked Simon up off the couch in a giant bear hug. Which he was still doing when Mimi and Ryan peeked around the corner like a totem pole.
“We came to see Mary Jane and bring presents—what the hell is going on?” Mimi asked, staring at this weird tableau.
“Ask the bride,” Sophia said, nodding toward me.
Turns out they frown on screeching in the maternity ward. We were asked, very politely, to leave.
Once more, I found myself in a hospital waiting room with Mimi, Ryan, and Simon, although this time it was a very different subject from the night before.
“I can’t believe you’re engaged! This is so perfect. I was just beginning to feel my wedding planning blues. I had nothing new to plan! Now I can get started on yours! First things first, have you set a date? Do you know the venue? Evening? Afternoon? Black tie? White tie? I—”
“Slow your roll there, peanut,” I cautioned, holding up my hands in the international sigh for stop it, stop it now. “We have literally nothing planned, this whole thing isn’t even a day old. We haven’t planned a thing, and likely won’t just yet,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Seriously. Settle.”
“Settle. I’ll give you settle,” Mimi said under her breath, shaking her head. “Okay, but, can I just ask one tiny thing?”
“One.”
“What do you think your colors are going to be?” she burst forth, excitement coming off of her in waves.
“Oh boy. I’m going to send you to my mother’s, and you two can plan yourselves into oblivion together,” I said, laughing when I saw how excited that made her.
“Best idea ever! Oh, Caroline, this is going to be so much fun! I’ll call her tonight, see what she’s thinking. Oh, there’s so much to do, I—”
“Mimi. Sweetie. I was kidding. Just slow down, okay? Let me be engaged for a minute without all this wedding stuff, okay?”
Her face collapsed, but she shut it. For his part, Ryan merely said dude a few times, Simon said dude a few times, and they clapped each other on the back. Damn them . . .
By the time we got home that night, I had thirteen emails from my mother riddled with suggestions about venues all over Northern California, and seventeen emails from Mimi with links to dresses, shoes, bridesmaids’ dresses, and cake vendors. I looked up from the desk in the kitchen where I was going through all of these when Simon came up behind me to rub my shoulders.
“That one’s pretty,” he said, pointing to a dress on the screen.
“I can’t believe these two, Mimi and my mother. They’re already starting,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief.
“What, taking over?” he asked, chuckling and digging in with his thumbs and making my head roll back with a groan. I gazed up at him.
“Totally. It’s going to be a shitshow.”
“How can a wedding be a shitshow?”
“I’d let you read these emails, but I think I’m incapable of moving my head right now. Do you know how cute you are when you’re upside down?” I murmured, groaning once more as his hands moved down along my arms, hooking around my elbows and bringing them up to rest on his shoulders.
“I like you upside down,” he murmured right back, leaning down to dust my forehead with the tiniest of kisses.
“How does my ring look upside down?” I teased, holding my hand out in front of me to gaze at it once more.
“Sexy.” Kiss. “Impossibly sexy.” Kiss. Kiss. “Ludicrously sexy.” Kiss. Grope. Grope.
“Ludicrously sexy?” I asked, my eyes fluttering shut as his fingertips danced inside the edge of my bra.
“It’s a word.”
“So is howfastcanyoubenotsodressed?”
“That’s . . . let’s see . . . one, two, three—”
“You’re counting?”
“—four, five—”
“Simon?”
“Hmm?”
“You should stop the counting and go back to touching.”
“Oh. Babe. I’m getting back to it.”
And he really just was. His hands were sure, specific, practiced on my body. We’d been together long enough to know what each other liked, and what each other loved. The night before was full of love and passion. Tonight? Would be full of frantic, frenzied, crazy stupid, straight-up fucking.
His hands went from sure and specific to wild and wanton in an instant, pulling me out of the chair suddenly and spinning me suddenly, tugging at my shirt hard enough that the buttons popped. He pressed me into the wall, my face turned slightly, cheek into the herringbone wallpaper I’d agonized over, but never examined this close up. “Oh,” was all I managed to get out as his mouth closed around the tendon on the right side of my neck, nipping and tugging as he snapped my pants open and guided them roughly down my thighs.
“Why is she crying?” Simon asked, panicked.
“Her mother scared her half to death!” Neil yelled, also frantic.
“Everyone calm down,” I soothed, trying to move over toward the couch, but unable to do so because Sophia had a vicelike grip on my hand. I expected her to pull a jeweler’s loupe out of her nightgown.
“How do we make her stop?”
“Just walk her, Simon!”
“I don’t know how to stand up with her!”
“Is this two-point-five karats?”
“Call the nurse, she won’t stop crying!”
“Babies cry, Neil.”
“Someone help us!”
“Go get my baby from the Keystone Cops, would you?”
“Oh, for pity’s sake,” I said, snatching my hand away and crossing to the couch. “Hey, little miss, it’s okay,” I soothed, plucking Mary Jane neatly from Simon’s arms and cuddling her close. “Shh, shh, it’s okay. No more screaming, I promise. Everyone your parents know just happens to be crazy, okay? Shh, shh . . .” I brought her to Sophia, who began to lower the front of her gown.
“Oh, I, uh . . . I should step out, I, uh . . .” Simon said, getting up from the couch.
“They’re just boobs, Simon,” Sophia scolded, reaching up for Mary Jane and bringing her to her breast. It was surprising just how natural it all was. Here we all were, four best friends, one of whom had her tits out. And this was just how it was now. Except for Simon’s eyeballs, which were currently staring everywhere but where the action was.
Neil came over to stand by the bed, and he finally saw what Sophia had been screaming about.
“Hey, what’s that on your finger there?” he asked, looking down at my ring.
“What does it look like?” I teased, holding it up for him to see. He looked back and forth between me, the ring, and finally Simon.
“Dude?”
“Dude.”
“Dude!” Neil exclaimed, and picked Simon up off the couch in a giant bear hug. Which he was still doing when Mimi and Ryan peeked around the corner like a totem pole.
“We came to see Mary Jane and bring presents—what the hell is going on?” Mimi asked, staring at this weird tableau.
“Ask the bride,” Sophia said, nodding toward me.
Turns out they frown on screeching in the maternity ward. We were asked, very politely, to leave.
Once more, I found myself in a hospital waiting room with Mimi, Ryan, and Simon, although this time it was a very different subject from the night before.
“I can’t believe you’re engaged! This is so perfect. I was just beginning to feel my wedding planning blues. I had nothing new to plan! Now I can get started on yours! First things first, have you set a date? Do you know the venue? Evening? Afternoon? Black tie? White tie? I—”
“Slow your roll there, peanut,” I cautioned, holding up my hands in the international sigh for stop it, stop it now. “We have literally nothing planned, this whole thing isn’t even a day old. We haven’t planned a thing, and likely won’t just yet,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Seriously. Settle.”
“Settle. I’ll give you settle,” Mimi said under her breath, shaking her head. “Okay, but, can I just ask one tiny thing?”
“One.”
“What do you think your colors are going to be?” she burst forth, excitement coming off of her in waves.
“Oh boy. I’m going to send you to my mother’s, and you two can plan yourselves into oblivion together,” I said, laughing when I saw how excited that made her.
“Best idea ever! Oh, Caroline, this is going to be so much fun! I’ll call her tonight, see what she’s thinking. Oh, there’s so much to do, I—”
“Mimi. Sweetie. I was kidding. Just slow down, okay? Let me be engaged for a minute without all this wedding stuff, okay?”
Her face collapsed, but she shut it. For his part, Ryan merely said dude a few times, Simon said dude a few times, and they clapped each other on the back. Damn them . . .
By the time we got home that night, I had thirteen emails from my mother riddled with suggestions about venues all over Northern California, and seventeen emails from Mimi with links to dresses, shoes, bridesmaids’ dresses, and cake vendors. I looked up from the desk in the kitchen where I was going through all of these when Simon came up behind me to rub my shoulders.
“That one’s pretty,” he said, pointing to a dress on the screen.
“I can’t believe these two, Mimi and my mother. They’re already starting,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief.
“What, taking over?” he asked, chuckling and digging in with his thumbs and making my head roll back with a groan. I gazed up at him.
“Totally. It’s going to be a shitshow.”
“How can a wedding be a shitshow?”
“I’d let you read these emails, but I think I’m incapable of moving my head right now. Do you know how cute you are when you’re upside down?” I murmured, groaning once more as his hands moved down along my arms, hooking around my elbows and bringing them up to rest on his shoulders.
“I like you upside down,” he murmured right back, leaning down to dust my forehead with the tiniest of kisses.
“How does my ring look upside down?” I teased, holding my hand out in front of me to gaze at it once more.
“Sexy.” Kiss. “Impossibly sexy.” Kiss. Kiss. “Ludicrously sexy.” Kiss. Grope. Grope.
“Ludicrously sexy?” I asked, my eyes fluttering shut as his fingertips danced inside the edge of my bra.
“It’s a word.”
“So is howfastcanyoubenotsodressed?”
“That’s . . . let’s see . . . one, two, three—”
“You’re counting?”
“—four, five—”
“Simon?”
“Hmm?”
“You should stop the counting and go back to touching.”
“Oh. Babe. I’m getting back to it.”
And he really just was. His hands were sure, specific, practiced on my body. We’d been together long enough to know what each other liked, and what each other loved. The night before was full of love and passion. Tonight? Would be full of frantic, frenzied, crazy stupid, straight-up fucking.
His hands went from sure and specific to wild and wanton in an instant, pulling me out of the chair suddenly and spinning me suddenly, tugging at my shirt hard enough that the buttons popped. He pressed me into the wall, my face turned slightly, cheek into the herringbone wallpaper I’d agonized over, but never examined this close up. “Oh,” was all I managed to get out as his mouth closed around the tendon on the right side of my neck, nipping and tugging as he snapped my pants open and guided them roughly down my thighs.
