Sweet Possession
Page 20
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
Oh, that piece of shit. “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”
He motions with his head for us to start running, setting the pace as we make our way down the sidewalk. “Because I dealt with it. The last time was weeks ago, and I told him to stay the hell away from you. He hasn’t been back since.”
I jump over the jagged part of the sidewalk I’m sure to trip over one of these days. “I want to know if he comes in again, Joey. I’m not putting up with this.” That jerk has another thing coming if he thinks I’m okay with him coming into my shop. I don’t care if it’s for treats or not. He can get his baked goods elsewhere. He probably wouldn’t even eat my decadent creations anyway. He’d probably just use them to taunt children or something; lure them into his creepy van with cookies and non-existent puppies.
I’m not sure when Bryce became a pedophile in my mind, but right now, that’s how I’m picturing him.
Joey huffs loudly as we make our way up the hill. “Can you get a restraining order on somebody for just being a creeper? My cousin tried to get one a few years ago on this guy who kept asking her out but the cops said because he hadn’t threatened her in any way, she couldn’t get one.”
I shake my head and push myself harder, picking up speed. “I don’t know. Slapping that asshead with a restraining order isn’t exactly the kind of violence I have in mind. I was thinking more along the lines of shoving his dumb ass into oncoming traffic.”
“Preach,” Joey says through a laugh. He turns around, jogging backwards as I slow down a bit. “Let’s talk about something else. You’re getting all worked up, and this week needs to be relaxing for you.” He spins back around and blows out a loud breath. “What time is the fitting tonight?”
I smile over at him, letting go of the anger causing me to clench my teeth. “6:30 p.m. Are you coming?”
“Of course. The Man of Honor wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
We both chuckle at the title I gave Joey when I asked him to be in my wedding six months ago. I couldn’t pick between him and Juls for the highly-coveted Maid of Honor spot. They are both so special to me, so I decided to make Juls my Matron, since she’s married, and Joey my Man. It works out perfectly, and Joey couldn’t be happier about it. He even tossed around the idea of getting it sequined on the back of his tux for the big day. I wouldn’t expect anything less.
“I can’t wait to see you in that dress. You’re going to look fabulous.”
I take off running, hearing him yelp behind me. He catches up and gives me a flustered look. “If I’m going to look fabulous, I need to burn off the booze we drank this weekend.” I nudge against him and he laughs. “Come on. I’ll race ya around the block.”
16
After my five-mile run, which leaves my legs feeling like over-cooked noodles, I dash upstairs and hop into my shower. Another reason why I love keeping the loft above my bakery is for this very reason; I don’t have to go back to the condo to get ready for my day after my daily runs. The space still looks the same, seeing as the only thing I moved out of here was half my wardrobe. I actually wouldn’t mind it if Reese agreed to just move in here after the wedding. I know it’s a small space, but I don’t need much. Of course, if we are to have kids, I’m not sure a one-bedroom loft will cut it. Especially if we have a lot of kids, which is what I’m leaning toward. I want a bakery filled with mini-Reeses’. Tons of green-eyed, messy-haired cuties who can taste test my creations all day. And if last night was any inclination as to how he feels about the subject, I’m thinking he won’t be disagreeing to that idea.
I hear my cell phone ring as I wrap a towel around my chest, prompting me to dart out of the bathroom and grab it off my bed before I miss the call. I don’t even register the name on my screen before I answer.
“Hello?”
“Hello, sweetheart. And how is my bride-to-be?”
My mom’s voice has me falling backwards onto the bed with an exhaustive grunt. Damn it to Hell. I should’ve looked at the name on the screen, or let this call go to voicemail entirely. There’s only one reason why she’s calling me. One topic she wants to discuss. I hear the sound of papers ruffling and know she’s got her trusted notepad ready, full of last-minute changes she’s about to suggest or insist I make. Because with five days until my wedding, we have all the time in the world to change shit around.
I rub my free hand down the side of my face, bracing myself for this phone call that will surely end in her throwing that same notepad across the room.
“I’m good, Mom. How are you?”
“I’m wonderful, dear. Listen, I swung by this quaint little Italian restaurant yesterday in Printer’s Row, and it would be the perfect venue for the rehearsal dinner. And I already checked to make sure they’re available.”
I feel my frustration level quickly rising. “Mom, Reese and I don’t want a rehearsal dinner. I’ve told you this already. We want to run through the ceremony and go out afterwards with our friends.”
My mother gasps as if she’s just now hearing this information for the first time, which is definitely not the case. “Dylan, every wedding has an actual sit-down rehearsal dinner. You can’t skip that detail. It’s crucial.”
“Crucial? You make it sound as important as our wedding vows.”
“It is,” she insists with a firm tone.
I grumble and roll over, rubbing my face into the comforter. The faint smell of citrus calms me down a bit, but not enough to agree to this absurdity. “Mom, this is what Reese and I want. It’s our wedding. I’m sorry if you don’t agree with our decision, but it’s final. No dinner. If people get hungry, they can go hit up a drive-thru.”
“Oh, that’s just ridiculous, Dylan. A drive-thru? How tacky is that.” The sound of her exhaling loudly fills my ear, followed by the crinkling of paper. “Fine. No dinner. I suppose I’ll have to pack some snacks for your father to munch on during the actual rehearsal. You know how he gets when he goes without a meal.”
I chuckle into the comforter just as the sound of my loft door opening catches my attention. I roll over quickly, keeping the phone against my ear as Reese emerges behind the door. He closes it and I hold my hand out, palm up, silently asking him what he’s doing here. It’s almost six o’clock and he’s usually at the office by now. He smiles his response before he walks toward me. He’s dressed in his usual work attire, a dress shirt, tie, and khakis, and it gets me like it always does. The man does office-wear like no other.
“Hey, Mom, I gotta go. I’ll see you tonight at the fitting, right?”
More papers rustling comes through the phone before she answers, prompting me to roll my eyes. “Of course. I’d never miss it. Maggie and I will meet you there at 6:30 p.m. Goodbye, sweetheart.”
“Bye, Mom.”
I press end and drop the phone onto the bed before lifting my gaze to Reese. “Handsome, what are you doing here? Don’t you have numbers to crunch?”
He steps around my screen that divides my one large room into two and stops just in front of me. “I do. But I couldn’t stop thinking about something.”
He motions with his head for us to start running, setting the pace as we make our way down the sidewalk. “Because I dealt with it. The last time was weeks ago, and I told him to stay the hell away from you. He hasn’t been back since.”
I jump over the jagged part of the sidewalk I’m sure to trip over one of these days. “I want to know if he comes in again, Joey. I’m not putting up with this.” That jerk has another thing coming if he thinks I’m okay with him coming into my shop. I don’t care if it’s for treats or not. He can get his baked goods elsewhere. He probably wouldn’t even eat my decadent creations anyway. He’d probably just use them to taunt children or something; lure them into his creepy van with cookies and non-existent puppies.
I’m not sure when Bryce became a pedophile in my mind, but right now, that’s how I’m picturing him.
Joey huffs loudly as we make our way up the hill. “Can you get a restraining order on somebody for just being a creeper? My cousin tried to get one a few years ago on this guy who kept asking her out but the cops said because he hadn’t threatened her in any way, she couldn’t get one.”
I shake my head and push myself harder, picking up speed. “I don’t know. Slapping that asshead with a restraining order isn’t exactly the kind of violence I have in mind. I was thinking more along the lines of shoving his dumb ass into oncoming traffic.”
“Preach,” Joey says through a laugh. He turns around, jogging backwards as I slow down a bit. “Let’s talk about something else. You’re getting all worked up, and this week needs to be relaxing for you.” He spins back around and blows out a loud breath. “What time is the fitting tonight?”
I smile over at him, letting go of the anger causing me to clench my teeth. “6:30 p.m. Are you coming?”
“Of course. The Man of Honor wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
We both chuckle at the title I gave Joey when I asked him to be in my wedding six months ago. I couldn’t pick between him and Juls for the highly-coveted Maid of Honor spot. They are both so special to me, so I decided to make Juls my Matron, since she’s married, and Joey my Man. It works out perfectly, and Joey couldn’t be happier about it. He even tossed around the idea of getting it sequined on the back of his tux for the big day. I wouldn’t expect anything less.
“I can’t wait to see you in that dress. You’re going to look fabulous.”
I take off running, hearing him yelp behind me. He catches up and gives me a flustered look. “If I’m going to look fabulous, I need to burn off the booze we drank this weekend.” I nudge against him and he laughs. “Come on. I’ll race ya around the block.”
16
After my five-mile run, which leaves my legs feeling like over-cooked noodles, I dash upstairs and hop into my shower. Another reason why I love keeping the loft above my bakery is for this very reason; I don’t have to go back to the condo to get ready for my day after my daily runs. The space still looks the same, seeing as the only thing I moved out of here was half my wardrobe. I actually wouldn’t mind it if Reese agreed to just move in here after the wedding. I know it’s a small space, but I don’t need much. Of course, if we are to have kids, I’m not sure a one-bedroom loft will cut it. Especially if we have a lot of kids, which is what I’m leaning toward. I want a bakery filled with mini-Reeses’. Tons of green-eyed, messy-haired cuties who can taste test my creations all day. And if last night was any inclination as to how he feels about the subject, I’m thinking he won’t be disagreeing to that idea.
I hear my cell phone ring as I wrap a towel around my chest, prompting me to dart out of the bathroom and grab it off my bed before I miss the call. I don’t even register the name on my screen before I answer.
“Hello?”
“Hello, sweetheart. And how is my bride-to-be?”
My mom’s voice has me falling backwards onto the bed with an exhaustive grunt. Damn it to Hell. I should’ve looked at the name on the screen, or let this call go to voicemail entirely. There’s only one reason why she’s calling me. One topic she wants to discuss. I hear the sound of papers ruffling and know she’s got her trusted notepad ready, full of last-minute changes she’s about to suggest or insist I make. Because with five days until my wedding, we have all the time in the world to change shit around.
I rub my free hand down the side of my face, bracing myself for this phone call that will surely end in her throwing that same notepad across the room.
“I’m good, Mom. How are you?”
“I’m wonderful, dear. Listen, I swung by this quaint little Italian restaurant yesterday in Printer’s Row, and it would be the perfect venue for the rehearsal dinner. And I already checked to make sure they’re available.”
I feel my frustration level quickly rising. “Mom, Reese and I don’t want a rehearsal dinner. I’ve told you this already. We want to run through the ceremony and go out afterwards with our friends.”
My mother gasps as if she’s just now hearing this information for the first time, which is definitely not the case. “Dylan, every wedding has an actual sit-down rehearsal dinner. You can’t skip that detail. It’s crucial.”
“Crucial? You make it sound as important as our wedding vows.”
“It is,” she insists with a firm tone.
I grumble and roll over, rubbing my face into the comforter. The faint smell of citrus calms me down a bit, but not enough to agree to this absurdity. “Mom, this is what Reese and I want. It’s our wedding. I’m sorry if you don’t agree with our decision, but it’s final. No dinner. If people get hungry, they can go hit up a drive-thru.”
“Oh, that’s just ridiculous, Dylan. A drive-thru? How tacky is that.” The sound of her exhaling loudly fills my ear, followed by the crinkling of paper. “Fine. No dinner. I suppose I’ll have to pack some snacks for your father to munch on during the actual rehearsal. You know how he gets when he goes without a meal.”
I chuckle into the comforter just as the sound of my loft door opening catches my attention. I roll over quickly, keeping the phone against my ear as Reese emerges behind the door. He closes it and I hold my hand out, palm up, silently asking him what he’s doing here. It’s almost six o’clock and he’s usually at the office by now. He smiles his response before he walks toward me. He’s dressed in his usual work attire, a dress shirt, tie, and khakis, and it gets me like it always does. The man does office-wear like no other.
“Hey, Mom, I gotta go. I’ll see you tonight at the fitting, right?”
More papers rustling comes through the phone before she answers, prompting me to roll my eyes. “Of course. I’d never miss it. Maggie and I will meet you there at 6:30 p.m. Goodbye, sweetheart.”
“Bye, Mom.”
I press end and drop the phone onto the bed before lifting my gaze to Reese. “Handsome, what are you doing here? Don’t you have numbers to crunch?”
He steps around my screen that divides my one large room into two and stops just in front of me. “I do. But I couldn’t stop thinking about something.”
