Page 62 of Monsters, Vows, and Growls
“Touché.”
We reached the closet. It was technically a small room off the barn foyer, dark and full of faux-fur wraps, rental tux bags, and way too much cologne. I opened the door and immediately regretted every decision that had ever led me to this moment.
Because there, in the dim light of a low-watt bulb, pressed against the back wall like horny teenagers at prom, were?—
“Oh my God!”
Henry spun.
My mother gasped.
Everyone froze. Including me.
“Oh, sweet suffering hell,” Carol said flatly, turning right around and walking back out. Patrick stepped forward, blinked like he couldn’t quite trust his vision, then threw an arm in front of me like he could physically shield my brain from the image.
“Mom?” I choked out. “Henry?”
“Sweetheart,” Henry said, trying to straighten his shirt. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
“I think it’sexactlywhat it looks like!” I squeaked.
Patrick made a noise beside me. It was halfway between a laugh and a wheeze. “Dad?”
"He's banging my mother," I cried out.
Aunt Hatty, still waiting behind us, peered in and said, “Well. That’s one way to keep warm.”
Patrick chuckled behind me. That’s when I lost it. I turned on him without thinking. “That's your father! Do something.”
“Like what?”
“Get him off my mother, get him out of the closet!” I screeched.
He closed the door. "Ells, they're both adults, consenting adults?—"
"Oh, that's right. I'm sorry, for a moment I forgot that Saint Henry can't do anything wrong. Like banging my mentally impaired mother."
“She’s not mentally impaired,” he said gently. “Maybe a bit… crazy,” he added, wincing. “But you and I both know—she doesn’t do anything she doesn’t want to."
Both of my hands pushed against his chest; of course, it didn’t do anything, damn this man. He didn't even stumble. He was right, too, but I wasn't in the mood to discuss my mother's mental state while she was… was… fucking someone in the fucking closet. The door was so thin that I could still hear their moans. They hadn't even stopped. They were still going!
Patrick stood there like the world wasn’t burning down behind the door.
“Are you seriously defending them?” I hissed. “Right now?Todayof all days?”
“I’m not defending anyone, and of course I’m horrified, Ells. But I can’t go kicking down a door over something I can’t control,” he said calmly, and God, that made me want to scream. “I’m just saying—this isn’t aboutthem.It’s about you. And me. And how we deal with stuff when it goes sideways.”
“No, Patrick, this is about your dad having sex with my mother at ourwedding.In a coat closet.”
“You think I’mnothorrified?”
“You don’t look horrified.”
“Well, excuse me if I’ve had a little more practice than you in pretending things are fine when they’re not.”
That stopped me cold. Patrick exhaled and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Sorry. That came out wrong.”
“No,” I said, heart thudding. “It didn’t.”
