her long hair a tangled mess and makeup that had run and
smudged.
She was either coming down from a high or
still drunk, but there was no doubt that Betty had walked through
the door looking like the worse walk of shame, ever—worse than
Bobbi returning in her stained, wedding dress. And Bobbi was glad
that neither Gramps, nor her father had been home to witness
it.
“Just please get dressed or go back up to
your room and do whatever it is you do up there.”
For a few moments the two girls stared at
each other in silence, the only noise was the ticking of the
ancient round clock above the fridge. They both jumped when the
doorbell rang and Bobbi smoothed her pin straight hair as she tried
to calm her nerves.
She opened her mouth once more in a bid to
implore her sister to leave, but Betty saved her the trouble. She
grabbed a bag of oatmeal cookies from the cupboard, saluted Bobbi,
and disappeared up the back stairs.
Bobbi exhaled and headed for the foyer,
taking a moment to glance at herself in the large hall mirror.
She’d deliberately chosen something sedate and classy. A simple
deep blue cashmere turtleneck with three-quarter length sleeves,
coupled with simple black dress pants and plain black heels. A long
gold chain hung from her neck and small gold studs were at her
ears.
Her makeup was again, simple, with a dusting
of shadow and mascara, and clear gloss on her lips. She looked put
together and calm which was exactly how she wanted to look. Mostly
because it was the polar opposite of how she felt inside.
Could she fix this? Would Gerald listen to
her? She thought of her future. The one she’d planned so
meticulously—the one she wanted in spite of what she’d done—and
tried not to let the underlying panic bleed through.
The fact that he was coming to see her on his
first day back was a great sign, and she needed to focus on the
positive. She would fix this. She had too.
She paused at the door, her hand on the knob,
her heart beating just a tad too fast, and though she would have
loved a few more minutes to mentally prepare herself there was no
way around it. She squared her shoulders, opened the door, and
rested her eyes on the man she should be married to.
The man she wanted to marry.
Everything else was a mistake.
Bobbi cleared her throat and as she stared at
her fiancé in silence, she noticed a few things that were maybe, a
tad alarming. First off, his hair was a mess. Not a windblown kind
of thing either, but more like a controlled mess. From what Bobbi
could see, Gerald had more product in his hair that any woman had a
right to. It was sticking up in long spikes that would have looked
good on a teenager but on a man of thirty-five?
Not so much.
“Bobbi,” he said stonily.
Okay, his mood didn’t look promising and his
tone of voice left a lot to be desired but…
Wait. Was that an earring?
Bobbi’s fisted hand flew to her chest and she
hoped the weird noise she heard hadn’t actually come from her
mouth. She tried her best to keep the smile she had pasted to her
face when she’d opened the door. And it was a chore. She wanted to
frown in horror as her eyes crept back to—good god, there wasn’t
just one earring—there were two. And they weren’t studs. They were
hoops.
Gerald—the man who thought wearing jeans to
work on Fridays was slumming it—had hoops in his ears. Gold hoops
and not the delicate sort either. Ugh. They didn’t belong on any
man in his thirties, unless his name started with Jon and ended
with Jovi.
“Come in,” she managed to say and stepped
aside to give him room.
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Oh,” Bobbi wasn’t quite sure what to expect,
but it sure as hell wasn’t that. Gerald never used slang. Ever.
Her eyes moved over his tall form.
And he certainly never wore jeans that had
holes in the knees.
Her eyes moved higher.
Or a leather jacket that looked more suited
to a motorcycle than winter in New Waterford.
Alarm bells rang in her head and she
smudged.
She was either coming down from a high or
still drunk, but there was no doubt that Betty had walked through
the door looking like the worse walk of shame, ever—worse than
Bobbi returning in her stained, wedding dress. And Bobbi was glad
that neither Gramps, nor her father had been home to witness
it.
“Just please get dressed or go back up to
your room and do whatever it is you do up there.”
For a few moments the two girls stared at
each other in silence, the only noise was the ticking of the
ancient round clock above the fridge. They both jumped when the
doorbell rang and Bobbi smoothed her pin straight hair as she tried
to calm her nerves.
She opened her mouth once more in a bid to
implore her sister to leave, but Betty saved her the trouble. She
grabbed a bag of oatmeal cookies from the cupboard, saluted Bobbi,
and disappeared up the back stairs.
Bobbi exhaled and headed for the foyer,
taking a moment to glance at herself in the large hall mirror.
She’d deliberately chosen something sedate and classy. A simple
deep blue cashmere turtleneck with three-quarter length sleeves,
coupled with simple black dress pants and plain black heels. A long
gold chain hung from her neck and small gold studs were at her
ears.
Her makeup was again, simple, with a dusting
of shadow and mascara, and clear gloss on her lips. She looked put
together and calm which was exactly how she wanted to look. Mostly
because it was the polar opposite of how she felt inside.
Could she fix this? Would Gerald listen to
her? She thought of her future. The one she’d planned so
meticulously—the one she wanted in spite of what she’d done—and
tried not to let the underlying panic bleed through.
The fact that he was coming to see her on his
first day back was a great sign, and she needed to focus on the
positive. She would fix this. She had too.
She paused at the door, her hand on the knob,
her heart beating just a tad too fast, and though she would have
loved a few more minutes to mentally prepare herself there was no
way around it. She squared her shoulders, opened the door, and
rested her eyes on the man she should be married to.
The man she wanted to marry.
Everything else was a mistake.
Bobbi cleared her throat and as she stared at
her fiancé in silence, she noticed a few things that were maybe, a
tad alarming. First off, his hair was a mess. Not a windblown kind
of thing either, but more like a controlled mess. From what Bobbi
could see, Gerald had more product in his hair that any woman had a
right to. It was sticking up in long spikes that would have looked
good on a teenager but on a man of thirty-five?
Not so much.
“Bobbi,” he said stonily.
Okay, his mood didn’t look promising and his
tone of voice left a lot to be desired but…
Wait. Was that an earring?
Bobbi’s fisted hand flew to her chest and she
hoped the weird noise she heard hadn’t actually come from her
mouth. She tried her best to keep the smile she had pasted to her
face when she’d opened the door. And it was a chore. She wanted to
frown in horror as her eyes crept back to—good god, there wasn’t
just one earring—there were two. And they weren’t studs. They were
hoops.
Gerald—the man who thought wearing jeans to
work on Fridays was slumming it—had hoops in his ears. Gold hoops
and not the delicate sort either. Ugh. They didn’t belong on any
man in his thirties, unless his name started with Jon and ended
with Jovi.
“Come in,” she managed to say and stepped
aside to give him room.
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Oh,” Bobbi wasn’t quite sure what to expect,
but it sure as hell wasn’t that. Gerald never used slang. Ever.
Her eyes moved over his tall form.
And he certainly never wore jeans that had
holes in the knees.
Her eyes moved higher.
Or a leather jacket that looked more suited
to a motorcycle than winter in New Waterford.
Alarm bells rang in her head and she
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