Yeah, I Hate-Ate Your Cupcake!: A Romantic Comedy, page 24
She wrapped her arms around me, responding to the kiss.
It felt perfect and right to have her in my arms.
I’m never letting her go. I don’t care what happens, I’m never letting her go.
52
Karlie
I did not want to get out of Liam’s bed.
Oh my god, I was in Liam’s bed, with Liam. I was in his house with his sheets and his gorgeous naked body. I couldn’t help myself. I trailed my fingers carefully through his hair and down his muscular back.
“Figuring out which piece of me you’re going to cut off and steal for the massive shrine you’re constructing?” He blinked at me.
I swatted him lightly on his very firm buttocks. Liam just laughed.
“I don’t need a shrine if I can have the real thing whenever I want.”
I pushed him back on the bed, luxuriating in the feel of his body against mine. I kneaded my palms over his chest. Liam propped his head up with one arm and gazed at me adoringly, touching my hair, my face, my tits.
“You are the best thing that ever happened to me,” he said and kissed me.
My mouth wasn't sure what to say to that, so I decided to let my lust speak for me. “Yeah?” I asked playfully. “Show me?”
Then I shifted positions, shimmying so that my head was faced downward, pointed at his stiffening cock. My ass was faced toward his...well, face.
Liam let out a sexy little growly chuckle. He grabbed two handfuls of my ass, his large hands guiding me where he wanted me.
Shivering in anticipation, I bent down to lick the head of his cock, flicking the slit with my tongue.
Liam took the initiative and leaned up on his elbows, grabbing my thighs and shifting me downward. Then he reached up and kissed my pussy.
Sixty-nine at its best. I gave a shaky little moan—muffled by the cock in my mouth—and bobbed down on him with more enthusiasm. Meanwhile, Liam's own tongue went to work while his fingertips dipped in and out of my pussy to tease me. The sweetest torment.
I could tell how much this aroused him. His dick grew harder in my mouth, and I almost mindlessly mouthed him, torn between pleasuring him and my own pleasure.
If this was a race, I lost—or won, depending. My orgasm hit me hard, and I rocked myself against his mouth, seeking those last few tingling waves of pleasure.
I didn't let up on his cock. Liam grunted, squeezing my ass to warn me. That was fine. When he came, I swallowed down every last drop. I admired the view as he walked through the enormous master bedroom to the bathroom. I flopped over on my back and spread out like a starfish on the bed.
“I need coffee.”
In the movies, after a girl has hot sex with a guy, she wraps herself up in his sheet and walks around the apartment all sexy in a toga.
Except the movies must have been lying because by the time I had wrapped myself in all of the sheet from Liam’s massive king-size bed, I resembled a turtle rather than a Greek goddess.
When Liam walked out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs, I was trying to disentangle myself from the yards of soft Egyptian cotton.
“I, uh—”
A grin spread across his face. He picked me up, threw me onto the bed, and landed beside me.
“I was trying to make a toga,” I whispered to him. He kissed my nose.
“That’s a very sexy toga. You’re like a pile of frosting.”
“Oh, shoot,” I said, sitting up, “I didn’t give you a cupcake yesterday.”
“Guess you’ll just have to make it up to me,” he replied.
He started to unwrap me from the sheets. Feeling playful, I rose on my toes and did a little twirl for him, allowing him to untwist them from my body.
“How do you want me to make it up to you?” I asked, already feeling breathless. My pussy was more than happy to get in on this game.
Liam pretended to think about it. “I want to see you play with yourself,” he said, his voice dipping to a dark husk.
My breath caught. “Yeah?” I reached up to touch my own tits, squeezing them together to show cleavage. “Like this?”
“More,” he said. “Touch your pussy too.”
The man was getting hard just from seeing me touch myself. I decided to amp it up and really go the porn-star route.
“You mean...like this?” I dropped one hand to settle between my legs as I fingered my own pussy. “You want me to get myself all hot and ready for you?”
He swallowed, eyes locked on me as he edged over to the nightstand to grab a condom. I could tell he was trying to be all smooth, but the motion made me grin.
“Keep going,” he told me roughly.
I decided to play it up and really started to finger myself just the way I liked to do when I was alone and horny. I rubbed my clit hard and squeezed my nipples, my chin tilting to the ceiling as I let out my best porn-star moan.
“You like that?” he asked roughly. I heard the tear of foil from the condom.
“Mmm...I like it when you do it to me,” I said. “Some desserts aren't supposed to be enjoyed alone.”
He didn't seem to be able to take it anymore. In the next instant, Liam was up in my space, pushing me back down to the bed. I went with a deep laugh that turned into a moan as he knocked my legs apart and shoved himself down and inside.
I was wet and hot for him. Liam slid into me, and my inner muscles welcomed him like an old friend. He bracketed his large arms on either side of my head and full-on jackhammered into me.
All I could do was lie there and take it... and I loved every second of it.
My porn-star moans became real ones as Liam hit again and again against my sweet spot. He was giving me no mercy, and all I could do was hold on for the ride.
I came, hard, pleasure cascading through me. I might have screamed his name.
Liam grunted, and his dick stiffened just a little bit more before his thrusts became messy. He chased his pleasure inside me, spilling hard.
It was perfect.
I felt well and thoroughly fucked after that.
“You looking forward to all the strippers at the bachelorette party?” Liam asked when I rolled out of bed and, this time, put on his white dress shirt.
“Damn, I love seeing your nipples through that.” He grabbed my ass as I walked down the hall to his kitchen.
I was starving. “It’s not that kind of a bachelorette party.”
“So you’re saying you want me to break out my thong and surprise all your guests?”
“No,” I said half in horror and half a bit intrigued to see him in that.
Liam seemed to read my mind.
“I have a very nice hat that goes along with it.” He grinned.
“If I have sex with you again,” I warned as he slipped his fingers between my legs, “I’m not going to be able to cook.”
“No! Not even a cupcake?”
“No, I—”
Liam kissed the back of my neck when I paused in his kitchen. There was a whole breakfast spread in heating trays of bagels and smoked lox, eggs Benedict, bacon, sausages, pancakes, and waffles.
“Are you having a party?” I asked in confusion.
“No, you and I are having brunch.”
My eyes widened. “Damn, you’re good.”
“I aim to please.” He turned me to him and kissed me, his gray eyes serious.
“Anything for you, Karlie.”
53
Liam
I was full-on obsessed with Karlie. Having her in my home, in my bed, wearing my clothes, her hair in messy curls around her face—she was everything I ever wanted.
“Are you a pancakes guy or a waffles guy?” she asked me. “Or French toast?”
“Waffles,” I said, “with whipped cream and chocolate gravy.”
“Good lord, please have some protein,” she said with a snort and added bacon to my plate.
She speared some sausage and one piece of the strawberry and cream cheese French toast onto her plate.
“I can’t believe you ordered all this food,” she marveled as she sat at the table, where fresh flowers had been laid out. “We’re never going to eat it all.”
I poured her a mimosa.
“Trust me,” I said, “with my siblings, this food will not go to waste.” I showed her the barrage of text messages from my siblings begging for food. “I told them they had to stay away until after you and I had finished our romantic brunch.”
“This message from your brother says he’s appalled that you’re not at work.” Karlie gave me a guilty look. “I don’t want to keep you from your job.”
“I worked late last night,” I assured her, cutting off a square of my waffle.
“My brother just likes to give me a hard time. Greg was parentified,” I added, “because my mom and dad were pieces of shit and neglected us, and now he can’t let go of control because if he does, he feels like the world is going to fall apart.”
Karlie’s eyes were wide in—what, shock? Disgust?
Dammit, we were supposed to be having a nice brunch.
When I’d had other women over and done the whole surprise meal shebang, I always kept the topics of conversation light. Brunch never devolved into a woe-is-me, look-at-my-pathetic-childhood therapy session. But for some reason Karlie felt like someone who I could open up to, who I could trust.
“Sorry,” I said, trying not to sound bitter. “Guess your friend’s poly wedding is stirring up bad memories. So...you seen any good movies lately?”
“As if. All I do is bake cakes I eat too much of and plan weddings for people I can’t stand because I like to pretend as if it’s my own wedding.” She cut her French toast into little bites, looking at her plate, not at me. “Guess you’re not the only one ruining brunch.”
“Did you always want a big wedding?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I guess I just wanted to feel special. I wanted my mom to treat me like a princess and tell me I was pretty. I wanted to be the center of attention. Well,” she amended, “in theory. In practice I would curl up into a ball and not move. To have everyone’s eyes on you, to have to walk down the aisle wondering if the dress you picked is really perfect or if you made a mistake? Then having to worry about tripping over the hem and falling in front of everyone? Knowing me and my luck, the happiest day of my life would turn out to be the worst day.”
“Kind of the opposite of when you met me,” I joked.
She rolled her eyes and took a sip of her drink. “Did your family have big weddings when your dad would, uh, bring home a new wife?”
“Courted,” I said, “and yes, there would be a huge wedding. To be fair, anything with my family is a huge event because there are so many of us. My brother got married recently, and it was a shit show. Beautiful, wonderful, but a complete fucking shit show. There were Svensson brothers coming out of the woodwork.”
Karlie laughed.
“But at the compound, did you guys book a venue or do it out in a field?”
“No, we couldn’t afford a venue. One sister wife was really into weddings, so she would force us to decorate with whatever was on hand—tin cans, electrocution hazards of light bulbs strung together, ragweed flowers that we tied up with old bed sheets we had cut up. The cake was whatever we could scrounge up. There weren’t mixers or whatever you use to make frosting, so we would have to sit there in a big tub and beat it by hand. It was a mess. The only time we ever got cake was at a wedding. Not even birthdays.” I chewed on a piece of bacon.
“Weddings were usually the happiest time of my childhood,” I continued, “because my father was very insistent that the newest wife be made welcome, so the food was better, he was in a good mood, and we got new clothes and new shoes. And, of course, cake with frosting. In hindsight, it was not very good cake.”
“Better than no cake.”
“Yeah.” I huffed a laugh at the memory of my brothers and me, slightly sunburnt, outside scarfing down food before someone could take it. “The new sister wives’ parents weren’t allowed to come. Usually by that point my father had done such a number on the wives that they had no contact with their parents anyways.”
Karlie let out a breath. “So Tosha’s probably not in that bad of a situation, then, right? Like at least Rudy’s not cutting her off from her family. He’s having a nice wedding in a normal venue with a very nice cake, might I add. And her friends will be there and her family.”
I wasn’t so sure Tosha was okay, but as I’d learned when trying to help the sister wives, you couldn’t help someone who didn’t want to be helped. But Karlie was clearly very worried about her friend.
“Of course,” I assured her. “At least she’s still in the city. It’s definitely not as bad as the situation with my father’s wives.”
At least I hoped not.
I missed Karlie as soon as she was gone. Of course, my condo was not empty for long.
I opened the front door, and all my siblings barreled into the house.
“Is there any French toast left?” Kiki asked.
“Liam, put on a shirt,” Greg snapped at me.
“Hi, good morning. Why the hell are none of you at work?”
“We’re having a meeting,” Mike told me while Carl and Walker fought each other with forks for the last sausage after my sisters had cleared the pan like cartoon locusts.
“How did your dinner with Joseph go?” Beck asked, selecting a smoked salmon bagel.
I grabbed up a piece of stuffed French toast to protests from Mike. “You already ate.”
“I didn’t eat French toast,” I retorted.
Crawford slapped the underside of my plate. I cursed as the French toast slid onto his plate.
“Thanks for brunch, baby brother.”
“The entitlement is strong with everyone present.”
My sisters settled out on the terrace to eat. As soon as they were out of earshot, Crawford’s face darkened.
“Greg told me about your latest polygamist wedding event,” he said. “He told me you weren’t just being a paranoid idiot, and he thinks Rudy is up to something.”
I felt even worse for lying to Karlie.
Surely her friend will be fine. Worse comes to worst, I can have Crawford go kidnap Tosha back.
“Greg put you off on a good foot,” Crawford added. “We need you to pretend to be his friend and act like you think it’s cool he’s following in Dad’s footsteps.”
My lip curled back. “No fucking way. I don’t want Karlie to think I condone that behavior.”
“Karlie?” Greg scoffed. “What the fuck does Karlie have to do with any of this?”
“You’re just supposed to string her along while you secure that contract,” Beck reminded me. “You’re not supposed to fall in love with this woman.”
But what if I already had?
54
Karlie
Surprisingly, I was looking forward to the bachelorette party, though I was going to miss being with Liam. I grinned thinking about last night and this morning. He was so kind, caring, and affectionate. Liam was everything I wanted in a boyfriend.
I had a spa day planned for that afternoon, and I was going to enjoy it and be nice and relaxed and flexible for when the bachelorette weekend was over and I saw Liam again.
Except that when I arrived at my parents’ building to meet my twin and the limo, she and the other bridesmaids did not look like they were ready for a relaxing day at the spa.
“What are you wearing?” Roberta asked, mouth twisting up like she’d tasted something sour. “You look like a homeless person. Your boyfriend can’t buy you nice clothes?”
“I’m not with him so he can buy stuff for me,” I told her.
“And Roberta didn’t make you her maid of honor so you could plan the world’s most boring bachelorette party,” Bently retorted.
“This is going to be a very tasteful bachelorette.” I pulled out my itinerary.
“Barf,” Bently said. “You’re trying to make Roberta sad and depressed before her wedding because you’re still in love with Marcus.”
I really wanted to throw Marcus’s words in Roberta’s face, but it wasn’t like he had made a move on me. Maybe he was just getting cold feet. If he and Roberta still wanted to get married, that was their business. I wasn’t getting involved just to be accused of stirring up drama.
“We’re going to the island of Dominica in the Caribbean,” Bently said as the limo pulled up.
“But...but, I had flower arranging. And a cookie decorating class.” I waved the itinerary.
“And I have an open bar, the beach, and a very sexy private chef,” Bently replied, slipping on her sunglasses.
“And fire dancers!” another bachelorette added, giving Roberta a high five.
“I’m not packed for the beach,” I said as the limo driver placed my bag in the trunk.
“As if your beach clothes would be different from what you normally wear,” Roberta scoffed and climbed into the limo.
My shoulders sagged, and I followed her into the limo, wincing at the deep thumping bass of the hip-hop music inside. Tosha scooted in next to me.
“This isn’t what I told Rudy I would be doing for the bachelorette,” she said nervously.
“Really?” I asked, pouring both of us a drink, since I was only going to survive this bachelorette party drunk. “Even Liam asked me if there were going to be male strippers and didn’t seem to believe me when I said there wouldn’t be.”
“Was he mad?” Tosha grabbed my arm in concern.
I shrugged. “He seemed to think it was funny. He even offered to give me his own private, better rendition of their show.”
“Of course there are going to be strippers,” Bently said. The other bachelorettes screamed, making me wince.
I poured myself more champagne.
Bently handed me her phone. “I have these fire dancers booked, and they are hot!”
The fire dancers were certainly hot.
Tosha and I were sitting on a private beach on the quaint Caribbean island, sipping Sex on the Beach cocktails like we were still in college. I was in one of Roberta’s bathing suits, which was too small and so high cut it might as well have been a thong.
It felt perfect and right to have her in my arms.
I’m never letting her go. I don’t care what happens, I’m never letting her go.
52
Karlie
I did not want to get out of Liam’s bed.
Oh my god, I was in Liam’s bed, with Liam. I was in his house with his sheets and his gorgeous naked body. I couldn’t help myself. I trailed my fingers carefully through his hair and down his muscular back.
“Figuring out which piece of me you’re going to cut off and steal for the massive shrine you’re constructing?” He blinked at me.
I swatted him lightly on his very firm buttocks. Liam just laughed.
“I don’t need a shrine if I can have the real thing whenever I want.”
I pushed him back on the bed, luxuriating in the feel of his body against mine. I kneaded my palms over his chest. Liam propped his head up with one arm and gazed at me adoringly, touching my hair, my face, my tits.
“You are the best thing that ever happened to me,” he said and kissed me.
My mouth wasn't sure what to say to that, so I decided to let my lust speak for me. “Yeah?” I asked playfully. “Show me?”
Then I shifted positions, shimmying so that my head was faced downward, pointed at his stiffening cock. My ass was faced toward his...well, face.
Liam let out a sexy little growly chuckle. He grabbed two handfuls of my ass, his large hands guiding me where he wanted me.
Shivering in anticipation, I bent down to lick the head of his cock, flicking the slit with my tongue.
Liam took the initiative and leaned up on his elbows, grabbing my thighs and shifting me downward. Then he reached up and kissed my pussy.
Sixty-nine at its best. I gave a shaky little moan—muffled by the cock in my mouth—and bobbed down on him with more enthusiasm. Meanwhile, Liam's own tongue went to work while his fingertips dipped in and out of my pussy to tease me. The sweetest torment.
I could tell how much this aroused him. His dick grew harder in my mouth, and I almost mindlessly mouthed him, torn between pleasuring him and my own pleasure.
If this was a race, I lost—or won, depending. My orgasm hit me hard, and I rocked myself against his mouth, seeking those last few tingling waves of pleasure.
I didn't let up on his cock. Liam grunted, squeezing my ass to warn me. That was fine. When he came, I swallowed down every last drop. I admired the view as he walked through the enormous master bedroom to the bathroom. I flopped over on my back and spread out like a starfish on the bed.
“I need coffee.”
In the movies, after a girl has hot sex with a guy, she wraps herself up in his sheet and walks around the apartment all sexy in a toga.
Except the movies must have been lying because by the time I had wrapped myself in all of the sheet from Liam’s massive king-size bed, I resembled a turtle rather than a Greek goddess.
When Liam walked out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs, I was trying to disentangle myself from the yards of soft Egyptian cotton.
“I, uh—”
A grin spread across his face. He picked me up, threw me onto the bed, and landed beside me.
“I was trying to make a toga,” I whispered to him. He kissed my nose.
“That’s a very sexy toga. You’re like a pile of frosting.”
“Oh, shoot,” I said, sitting up, “I didn’t give you a cupcake yesterday.”
“Guess you’ll just have to make it up to me,” he replied.
He started to unwrap me from the sheets. Feeling playful, I rose on my toes and did a little twirl for him, allowing him to untwist them from my body.
“How do you want me to make it up to you?” I asked, already feeling breathless. My pussy was more than happy to get in on this game.
Liam pretended to think about it. “I want to see you play with yourself,” he said, his voice dipping to a dark husk.
My breath caught. “Yeah?” I reached up to touch my own tits, squeezing them together to show cleavage. “Like this?”
“More,” he said. “Touch your pussy too.”
The man was getting hard just from seeing me touch myself. I decided to amp it up and really go the porn-star route.
“You mean...like this?” I dropped one hand to settle between my legs as I fingered my own pussy. “You want me to get myself all hot and ready for you?”
He swallowed, eyes locked on me as he edged over to the nightstand to grab a condom. I could tell he was trying to be all smooth, but the motion made me grin.
“Keep going,” he told me roughly.
I decided to play it up and really started to finger myself just the way I liked to do when I was alone and horny. I rubbed my clit hard and squeezed my nipples, my chin tilting to the ceiling as I let out my best porn-star moan.
“You like that?” he asked roughly. I heard the tear of foil from the condom.
“Mmm...I like it when you do it to me,” I said. “Some desserts aren't supposed to be enjoyed alone.”
He didn't seem to be able to take it anymore. In the next instant, Liam was up in my space, pushing me back down to the bed. I went with a deep laugh that turned into a moan as he knocked my legs apart and shoved himself down and inside.
I was wet and hot for him. Liam slid into me, and my inner muscles welcomed him like an old friend. He bracketed his large arms on either side of my head and full-on jackhammered into me.
All I could do was lie there and take it... and I loved every second of it.
My porn-star moans became real ones as Liam hit again and again against my sweet spot. He was giving me no mercy, and all I could do was hold on for the ride.
I came, hard, pleasure cascading through me. I might have screamed his name.
Liam grunted, and his dick stiffened just a little bit more before his thrusts became messy. He chased his pleasure inside me, spilling hard.
It was perfect.
I felt well and thoroughly fucked after that.
“You looking forward to all the strippers at the bachelorette party?” Liam asked when I rolled out of bed and, this time, put on his white dress shirt.
“Damn, I love seeing your nipples through that.” He grabbed my ass as I walked down the hall to his kitchen.
I was starving. “It’s not that kind of a bachelorette party.”
“So you’re saying you want me to break out my thong and surprise all your guests?”
“No,” I said half in horror and half a bit intrigued to see him in that.
Liam seemed to read my mind.
“I have a very nice hat that goes along with it.” He grinned.
“If I have sex with you again,” I warned as he slipped his fingers between my legs, “I’m not going to be able to cook.”
“No! Not even a cupcake?”
“No, I—”
Liam kissed the back of my neck when I paused in his kitchen. There was a whole breakfast spread in heating trays of bagels and smoked lox, eggs Benedict, bacon, sausages, pancakes, and waffles.
“Are you having a party?” I asked in confusion.
“No, you and I are having brunch.”
My eyes widened. “Damn, you’re good.”
“I aim to please.” He turned me to him and kissed me, his gray eyes serious.
“Anything for you, Karlie.”
53
Liam
I was full-on obsessed with Karlie. Having her in my home, in my bed, wearing my clothes, her hair in messy curls around her face—she was everything I ever wanted.
“Are you a pancakes guy or a waffles guy?” she asked me. “Or French toast?”
“Waffles,” I said, “with whipped cream and chocolate gravy.”
“Good lord, please have some protein,” she said with a snort and added bacon to my plate.
She speared some sausage and one piece of the strawberry and cream cheese French toast onto her plate.
“I can’t believe you ordered all this food,” she marveled as she sat at the table, where fresh flowers had been laid out. “We’re never going to eat it all.”
I poured her a mimosa.
“Trust me,” I said, “with my siblings, this food will not go to waste.” I showed her the barrage of text messages from my siblings begging for food. “I told them they had to stay away until after you and I had finished our romantic brunch.”
“This message from your brother says he’s appalled that you’re not at work.” Karlie gave me a guilty look. “I don’t want to keep you from your job.”
“I worked late last night,” I assured her, cutting off a square of my waffle.
“My brother just likes to give me a hard time. Greg was parentified,” I added, “because my mom and dad were pieces of shit and neglected us, and now he can’t let go of control because if he does, he feels like the world is going to fall apart.”
Karlie’s eyes were wide in—what, shock? Disgust?
Dammit, we were supposed to be having a nice brunch.
When I’d had other women over and done the whole surprise meal shebang, I always kept the topics of conversation light. Brunch never devolved into a woe-is-me, look-at-my-pathetic-childhood therapy session. But for some reason Karlie felt like someone who I could open up to, who I could trust.
“Sorry,” I said, trying not to sound bitter. “Guess your friend’s poly wedding is stirring up bad memories. So...you seen any good movies lately?”
“As if. All I do is bake cakes I eat too much of and plan weddings for people I can’t stand because I like to pretend as if it’s my own wedding.” She cut her French toast into little bites, looking at her plate, not at me. “Guess you’re not the only one ruining brunch.”
“Did you always want a big wedding?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I guess I just wanted to feel special. I wanted my mom to treat me like a princess and tell me I was pretty. I wanted to be the center of attention. Well,” she amended, “in theory. In practice I would curl up into a ball and not move. To have everyone’s eyes on you, to have to walk down the aisle wondering if the dress you picked is really perfect or if you made a mistake? Then having to worry about tripping over the hem and falling in front of everyone? Knowing me and my luck, the happiest day of my life would turn out to be the worst day.”
“Kind of the opposite of when you met me,” I joked.
She rolled her eyes and took a sip of her drink. “Did your family have big weddings when your dad would, uh, bring home a new wife?”
“Courted,” I said, “and yes, there would be a huge wedding. To be fair, anything with my family is a huge event because there are so many of us. My brother got married recently, and it was a shit show. Beautiful, wonderful, but a complete fucking shit show. There were Svensson brothers coming out of the woodwork.”
Karlie laughed.
“But at the compound, did you guys book a venue or do it out in a field?”
“No, we couldn’t afford a venue. One sister wife was really into weddings, so she would force us to decorate with whatever was on hand—tin cans, electrocution hazards of light bulbs strung together, ragweed flowers that we tied up with old bed sheets we had cut up. The cake was whatever we could scrounge up. There weren’t mixers or whatever you use to make frosting, so we would have to sit there in a big tub and beat it by hand. It was a mess. The only time we ever got cake was at a wedding. Not even birthdays.” I chewed on a piece of bacon.
“Weddings were usually the happiest time of my childhood,” I continued, “because my father was very insistent that the newest wife be made welcome, so the food was better, he was in a good mood, and we got new clothes and new shoes. And, of course, cake with frosting. In hindsight, it was not very good cake.”
“Better than no cake.”
“Yeah.” I huffed a laugh at the memory of my brothers and me, slightly sunburnt, outside scarfing down food before someone could take it. “The new sister wives’ parents weren’t allowed to come. Usually by that point my father had done such a number on the wives that they had no contact with their parents anyways.”
Karlie let out a breath. “So Tosha’s probably not in that bad of a situation, then, right? Like at least Rudy’s not cutting her off from her family. He’s having a nice wedding in a normal venue with a very nice cake, might I add. And her friends will be there and her family.”
I wasn’t so sure Tosha was okay, but as I’d learned when trying to help the sister wives, you couldn’t help someone who didn’t want to be helped. But Karlie was clearly very worried about her friend.
“Of course,” I assured her. “At least she’s still in the city. It’s definitely not as bad as the situation with my father’s wives.”
At least I hoped not.
I missed Karlie as soon as she was gone. Of course, my condo was not empty for long.
I opened the front door, and all my siblings barreled into the house.
“Is there any French toast left?” Kiki asked.
“Liam, put on a shirt,” Greg snapped at me.
“Hi, good morning. Why the hell are none of you at work?”
“We’re having a meeting,” Mike told me while Carl and Walker fought each other with forks for the last sausage after my sisters had cleared the pan like cartoon locusts.
“How did your dinner with Joseph go?” Beck asked, selecting a smoked salmon bagel.
I grabbed up a piece of stuffed French toast to protests from Mike. “You already ate.”
“I didn’t eat French toast,” I retorted.
Crawford slapped the underside of my plate. I cursed as the French toast slid onto his plate.
“Thanks for brunch, baby brother.”
“The entitlement is strong with everyone present.”
My sisters settled out on the terrace to eat. As soon as they were out of earshot, Crawford’s face darkened.
“Greg told me about your latest polygamist wedding event,” he said. “He told me you weren’t just being a paranoid idiot, and he thinks Rudy is up to something.”
I felt even worse for lying to Karlie.
Surely her friend will be fine. Worse comes to worst, I can have Crawford go kidnap Tosha back.
“Greg put you off on a good foot,” Crawford added. “We need you to pretend to be his friend and act like you think it’s cool he’s following in Dad’s footsteps.”
My lip curled back. “No fucking way. I don’t want Karlie to think I condone that behavior.”
“Karlie?” Greg scoffed. “What the fuck does Karlie have to do with any of this?”
“You’re just supposed to string her along while you secure that contract,” Beck reminded me. “You’re not supposed to fall in love with this woman.”
But what if I already had?
54
Karlie
Surprisingly, I was looking forward to the bachelorette party, though I was going to miss being with Liam. I grinned thinking about last night and this morning. He was so kind, caring, and affectionate. Liam was everything I wanted in a boyfriend.
I had a spa day planned for that afternoon, and I was going to enjoy it and be nice and relaxed and flexible for when the bachelorette weekend was over and I saw Liam again.
Except that when I arrived at my parents’ building to meet my twin and the limo, she and the other bridesmaids did not look like they were ready for a relaxing day at the spa.
“What are you wearing?” Roberta asked, mouth twisting up like she’d tasted something sour. “You look like a homeless person. Your boyfriend can’t buy you nice clothes?”
“I’m not with him so he can buy stuff for me,” I told her.
“And Roberta didn’t make you her maid of honor so you could plan the world’s most boring bachelorette party,” Bently retorted.
“This is going to be a very tasteful bachelorette.” I pulled out my itinerary.
“Barf,” Bently said. “You’re trying to make Roberta sad and depressed before her wedding because you’re still in love with Marcus.”
I really wanted to throw Marcus’s words in Roberta’s face, but it wasn’t like he had made a move on me. Maybe he was just getting cold feet. If he and Roberta still wanted to get married, that was their business. I wasn’t getting involved just to be accused of stirring up drama.
“We’re going to the island of Dominica in the Caribbean,” Bently said as the limo pulled up.
“But...but, I had flower arranging. And a cookie decorating class.” I waved the itinerary.
“And I have an open bar, the beach, and a very sexy private chef,” Bently replied, slipping on her sunglasses.
“And fire dancers!” another bachelorette added, giving Roberta a high five.
“I’m not packed for the beach,” I said as the limo driver placed my bag in the trunk.
“As if your beach clothes would be different from what you normally wear,” Roberta scoffed and climbed into the limo.
My shoulders sagged, and I followed her into the limo, wincing at the deep thumping bass of the hip-hop music inside. Tosha scooted in next to me.
“This isn’t what I told Rudy I would be doing for the bachelorette,” she said nervously.
“Really?” I asked, pouring both of us a drink, since I was only going to survive this bachelorette party drunk. “Even Liam asked me if there were going to be male strippers and didn’t seem to believe me when I said there wouldn’t be.”
“Was he mad?” Tosha grabbed my arm in concern.
I shrugged. “He seemed to think it was funny. He even offered to give me his own private, better rendition of their show.”
“Of course there are going to be strippers,” Bently said. The other bachelorettes screamed, making me wince.
I poured myself more champagne.
Bently handed me her phone. “I have these fire dancers booked, and they are hot!”
The fire dancers were certainly hot.
Tosha and I were sitting on a private beach on the quaint Caribbean island, sipping Sex on the Beach cocktails like we were still in college. I was in one of Roberta’s bathing suits, which was too small and so high cut it might as well have been a thong.
