“What’s this?” my father says, his voice booming from behind us.
I swear, the man has a sixth sense. Whenever I’m talking about something he’s likely to have a problem with—in other words, just about anything at all—he finds a way to overhear it.
“You too good to let your father pay for your wedding?”
Even if my mother understood why I’d want to pay and plan my own wedding, I know she won’t say anything, so I say with as much patience as I can muster, “I. Haven’t. Made. Any. Wedding. Plans. Yet.”
“Too good for us,” my father says, nodding his head. “You always thought you were too good.”
“Can we not do this right now?” I beg. “Not this weekend.”
“It’ll be too late to have it the next time we see each other, going by the frequency with which you come home to see your family,” he says, adding insult to injury.
“I can’t imagine why I don’t come home more often,” I say flatly, “when I get such a warm welcome and have so many of these touching, tender family moments.”
CHAPTER NINE
Not my problem
Carter
I sneak in through the back of the house and immediately can tell something’s wrong. There are angry voices coming from down the hall, and I head toward them, finding myself at the entry to the kitchen.
I see a table in the center of the room, acting as both an island and a place to dine. It’s much more casual than the rest of the home. Actually, that’s something that has surprised me most about Vale’s home. The way she spoke of the place had me thinking it would be a shabby, old farmhouse, not this beautiful and grand country home.
The kitchen is the most rustic of the rooms I’ve seen, but it’s cozy and warm. The sort of kitchen I would expect to see on a farm, only much larger, with top-of-the-line appliances. There are herbs and flowers on the windowsills, a basket of eggs on the counter. I can imagine quiet Sunday morning breakfasts in this room, sunlight streaming in. It’s really soothing here, and I can see why so many celebrities build homes like this, away from it all—to do nothing but relax with their families.
There’s nothing relaxing about what is going on now though. Vale and her father are having words in the nearby dining room, and then she storms out before I can even step into the room.
“Isn’t it bad enough the man couldn’t speak to me before asking for my daughter’s hand?” Mr. Martin says to his wife.
“Please, don’t hold that against her,” I say, boldly joining them. “I couldn’t help myself, as I told you earlier.”
At least Mrs. Martin has the grace to look embarrassed. Her husband is another matter. He smirks, folding his arms in a way that reminds me of Vale.
“We settled that, son, but now, I hear you’re not going to let me pay for my daughter’s wedding.” He holds his arms out and gestures around him. “Is this not good enough for either of you?”
“We haven’t made any plans yet, sir,” I explain, glancing at his wife. “As you both know, we’ve been engaged for a very short time.”
I can tell Mrs. Martin appreciates this.
She touches her husband’s arm. “We don’t have to talk about this now. And I shouldn’t have even brought it up today. I just got carried away at the thought of helping to plan my Vale’s wedding.”
I do what I can to ignore the clenching of my heart. Vale’s mother seems nice. And she will be hurt when she finds out our engagement was just a sham.
Not that I had much time to think things over this morning, but it hits me like a ton of bricks now. Vale will have to tell her family of our breakup, and I can’t help but wonder how they will take the news.
Obviously, not my problem, but still.
If I’m nothing else, I’m good in a room. I am very good at presenting myself to potential clients. But I am always honest with them. I want to be clear about my expectations upfront. In other words, I don’t lie to them. I don’t embellish. My father always says a man is only as good as his word.
This weekend, I’m not feeling like a good man. I hate lying. But I love Vale. And whether or not we’ll ever be together doesn’t matter. I agreed to do this for her.
“It’s probably my fault, sir,” I say, standing up tall. “I’m of the age and means that I just assumed that I would pay for our wedding. I don’t mean to insult you in any way. Just know that if contributing to our day is important to you, I’m sure we can work something out.”
Only then do I notice Vale standing on the other side of the room with tears in her eyes.
And I wish it didn’t make me feel so good, having her look at me like that.
Finish this later.
Vale
Carter walks toward me, takes my hand, and leads me outside to the porch.
I wrap my arms around his waist, glad he’s here. “Thank you for what you just said. I’m sorry about this mess.”
He leans closer to me, almost looking like he might kiss me. Instead, he just runs his hand through his hair. “I understand now why you don’t come home much.”
“Being here, even though things with my father aren’t good, makes me realize all that I’m missing out on. I’ve only seen Sophie a few times in person and only because my sisters came to visit me.”
He kisses my forehead. And it’s the sweetest gesture ever.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” he says. “Because I wanted to when we were laughing on the bed and I’m regretting it.”
I toss my arms around his neck and press my lips against his. And, my God, does it feel good. Our lips part. Our tongues intertwine. Carter deepens the kiss.
And it’s like I’ve been starving for him. I want to wrap my legs around his waist and never let go of him, but just as I start to, I hear a cough.
Carter stops kissing me. And I’m praying it’s not my father.
Fortunately, when I open my eyes, I just find Trent on the porch with us.
Carter practically growls in my ear. And it’s such a turn-on. “Don’t you have some pizzas to cook, best man?” he says to Trent.
“I am the best man,” Trent says back, but he doesn’t go anywhere.
Carter kisses me again. This time, just a sweet peck. Then, he whispers to me, “We’ll finish this later.”
And I sincerely hope what he said is true. I want to ask him this now, but I know better. Not in front of Trent.
Instead, I just smack him playfully on the butt like I used to when we were dating and say, “I’ll hold you to that.” Then, I let my body sway sexily as I walk away.
Dinner is casual, and the baking of the pizzas is a fun event. Everyone is hanging out by the ovens. When a pizza is finished cooking, it gets laid out on the bar, and everyone samples a piece.
We’re trying a mushroom and onion pizza with a white sauce and enjoying a couple of beers when I whisper to Carter, “You really did handle my father beautifully earlier. I appreciate it.”
“I’m used to keeping a cool head in hot situations. Besides, you thanked me with your lips already.” He winks at me before picking up a piece of pizza—this one sausage, spinach, and feta—and feeds me a bite. “These pizzas are damn good.”