Page 70 of Doing It for Love

I jam my feet under Landon’s butt on the couch, and I see goose bumps prickle up and down his legs. I have to warm my toes before I stick them in my boots and head to work for twelve hours. After spilling the macaroni last week and the following Thanksgiving meal was a dainty Top Ramen spread, I’ve picked up extra shifts left and right.

“Damn, woman,” Landon says, adjusting his baseball cap before running his hand under the bottom of my pants and up my leg.

“I’m cold.”

“You’re always cold.” He pinches the skin by my ankle. “And you’re furry.”

“It’s No-shave-ember. And it’s not like I have any hot dates to impress.” I wink, and he wrinkles his nose at me.

“You sound like my sister.”

“Oh, reminds me,” I say, sitting up and wrapping my arms around my knees. “Your mom called.”

“Okay.”

“Did you ask her about the flowers and tuxes?”

He purses his lips and shakes his head. “Uh…not yet.”

“Kind of need you to.”

“I know.”

I tilt my head to the side and watch as he toys with the hem of my pants. “Is that okay…?” I ask, worried that I’ve struck a nerve without meaning to.

He blows out a breath. “Yeah, it’s just…can we swing it?”

“Swing what?”

“The cost of the tuxes and flowers.”

I want to snort, but I hold it back. But seriously, I just had a major money breakdown in the kitchen last week.

“Not really. Do you think she’ll say no?”

“It’s not that. I just…I haven’t asked for anything from them since I left home. And I really don’t want to.”

His gray eyes move to mine, and I give him a small grin.

“It’s okay to ask for help.”

“I haven’t needed to. I shouldn’t need to. We should be able to handle all this shit ourselves. That’s why you moved up here to New York, right? To be on your own.”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Same here. We’re old enough, and we should take care of the things we need without running to our parents.”

“Landon,” I say, tucking my arm through his. “It’s our wedding, not our rent.”

He takes a deep breath and holds it, and I wonder if I need to be the one calling Mr. and Mrs. Wangford about all the expenses. Mr. Wangford will probably be my best bet.

“You’re right. Sorry,” Landon says, surprising me out of my in-law calling plans. “I’ll talk to them.”

“Thank you.”

He nods, then shuffles off the couch and grabs his empty mug off the coffee table. And even though he agreed with me, it still feels like he’s ready to argue.

DECEMBER

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