“You were a vet.” Jason rolled his eye. “Big difference.”
“A cow’s teats and the teats of a—”
“She needs to stop saying teats.” Max heaved a sigh. “Look, Reid’s shaking again.”
I held up my hands in exhaustion. “Fine, Grandma, you stay here and keep the table company, Max, you’re with me and Jason, we need to build the castle. Mrs. Caro, you and Jenna can go to Milo, make sure she looks like a bride, and for the love of God don’t let her run past you. Tackle her if need be!”
“You can tackle cows too.” Grandma sighed. “Like I said, same thing.”
Max whistled and then winked with a firm nod toward the pill. “She’ll go to happy land, dude, it’s worth it.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
MILO
It had been a half hour.
I’d stopped pounding on the door and was now rummaging through the different drawers of the guest room for a protein bar . . . those things never went bad, right?
Starved, I walked into the adjoining bathroom and was half tempted to start eating cough drops when a soft knock on the door interrupted my search.
“Yes?” I said in an exasperated voice. “Have you come to set me free?”
“No.” The voice was Jenna’s. “Actually, I’m here to help you, but you have to promise not to run past me or punch me in the face.”
“Jason’s black eyes were total accidents.” I crossed my arms defensively. “Swear.”
“Honey, you don’t need to defend yourself to us.”
“What do you guys want?”
After a moment of silence Jenna said, “We have food.”
I chewed my lower lip and looked down at the bag of cherry cough drops in my hand. “What kind of food?”
“Chocolate-covered almonds, fruit snacks, three different types of cheeses, and some crackers.”
I scowled and looked down at the floor. “Do the crackers have sea salt?”
“Yup!” Dang, I could practically see Jenna’s beaming smile through the door.
“Fine. I won’t run.”
The lock turned and Jenna and my mom both entered, then slammed the door behind them, barricading it with their bodies.
“Guys, chill.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m not an escaped convict.”
Mom’s eyebrows rose as if to say, Sure you aren’t, honey. Sure you aren’t.
Geez, you hit one person with a ping pong ball and accidently impale him and suddenly you’re a felon!
“The food?” I sniffled, sitting on the bed.
“Here.” Jenna unloaded a giant basketful of goodies onto the bed. It was like staring at heaven. No, seriously. I wasn’t one of those girls who got tiny hunger pangs when it was time to eat, then took a few sips of water, burped, wiped my mouth, and announced I was full.
Hell, no.
Carbs. Give. Me. Carbs. Give me protein. Give me chocolate and I’ll be your best friend.
My mom was actually so concerned with my chocolate addiction when I was little that she had to repeatedly tell me that if a nice young man or woman offered me candy I had to scream at the top of my lungs.
Unfortunately for her, she never told me that Santa was supposed to offer candy to kids. Thus my being blacklisted during the Christmas of ’04 from the mall.
I swear that damn Santa still gives me the stink-eye.
“So!” Mom clapped her hands. “We don’t have a long time, so there’s really nothing to be done with that hair of yours.”
I touched my hair self-consciously with one hand while I gnawed on a Snickers bar with the other. “What do you mean? Time?”
“Yeah.” Jenna tapped her chin with her pointer finger. “But I think if we keep it down and just wrap it into a low bun it will look really classic.”
“Great idea!” My mom reached for my hair and pulled. There was no escaping. She was like a girl who had just discovered her first Barbie and didn’t realize that plastic hair didn’t grow back.
“Ouch!” I snapped as my roots begged for relief. “Mom! This is why I never let you do my hair when I was little!”
“You’re fine.” She pulled again. I sighed.
She tugged again. My head followed the direction of the tug, it had no choice unless it wanted to get ripped off.
Not fine, not fine, not fine. “What’s going on?”
Jenna walked out of the room and returned with something in a garment bag.
“Just in time!” Mom announced, forgetting to let go of my hair as she walked over to Jenna and pulled me onto the floor. “Oh, sorry, honey.”
“I’m good.” I pushed to my feet and approached the shiny black bag. “What’s this?”
“Your dress.” Jenna giggled. “Duh.”
“I already have my dress for the wedding.” I pointed down. “I’m wearing it.”
“Right, but Jason’s wedding isn’t happening,” Mom explained. “So you need a new dress.”
“For the new pretend wedding?”
“For . . .” Mom looked at Jenna, then thrust her hand into the air. “For your father’s and my vow renewal.”
A tear started rolling down her cheek.
“He’s been such a good, good man, and all this time, he’s stood by me. Through . . . thick and thin, through war and peace.”
Weird speech, but I hugged her anyway.