Page 18 of Dearly Unbeloved
“And for the record, when I get married, I want a big wedding,” Xan says, I assume to reassure my mom, but she scoffs.
“When are you supposed to meet someone? All you do is work, and when you’re not working, the only person you spend time with is already married!” She sits back, looking like a kid on Christmas Day who’s had their presents snatched away. “I suppose we should just give up. It would be nice for one of you to have a real wedding or give us grandchildren, but I guess we’re asking for too much.”
It’s the final straw for Jazz. She sucks in a breath, but says nothing as she stands up and leaves the room.
“Mom,” Xan chides, pinching his brow as whatever progress we made crumbles into dust.
“What? I’m not allowed to share my feelings now?”
I shake my head. How the hell is she so clueless? “You have to stop pushing Jazz about kids. Do you have any idea how hard this is on her? She’s desperate to be a mom.”
“And I’m desperate to be a grandmother. It’s hard for me too!”
She can’t seriously be that dense.
“Leave it, Lilia,” my dad says, though I’m fairly sure it’s just because he’s fed up with the conversation and doesn’t want to listen to her complaining anymore.
I rub my face, pressing my palms into my eyes. Fuck my mascara—let it smudge.
A soft knock catches our attention. Maggie is standing in the doorway, a furious-looking Cal right behind her.
“Alexander, Lilia, we called a car to take you back to Marysville. It’s outside,” Maggie says, and my parents exchange a surprised look.
My dad jumps up. “Oh, sorry, we didn’t realize everyone was leaving.” My mom trails him to the door.
“They’re not,” Maggie responds firmly. “But you made Jazz cry—again—so you’re no longer welcome in our home.”
My parents stop in their tracks. “Maggie! How da?—”
“No,” Cal interrupts, and my mom snaps her lips closed. “It was Jazz’s choice to invite you, which is why I’ve kept my mouth shut tonight while you’ve acted so poorly toward your children, all of whom I care about very deeply, but you will not speak to my wife like that.”
It’s easy to forget what Cal does for a living day to day since he’s so gentle and easygoing. Very little rattles him and, when it does, I can see why his record of winning court cases is so good.
My parents disappear out the front door without so much as a glance back toward me or Xan. Maggie closes the door behind them and leansagainst it with a groan. “What a fucking night. But that,” she says, pointing at Cal, “was really hot.” She steps forward into his arms and he chuckles, kissing the top of her head.
I’ve dated here and there, both casual and long-term, but I’ve never been with anyone where affection has felt as natural as it seems to be for Maggie and Cal, or Jazz and Liam.
Maggie peers at us over Cal’s shoulders. “We made the guest rooms up earlier in case you wanted to stay. Eliza and Danisha are making cocktails.”
“If I ever say no to one of their cocktails, something is seriously wrong,” Xan says, and he seems lighter already now that our parents are gone. “I’ll stay. Are you and Sierra staying?”
“Oh. Uh…” I’ve gotten so used to my parents having an issue with everything we do that I actually forgot what started all this for a moment. Sierra. My wife. Shit. If we stay, we’ll have to share a room. But if Xan is staying, it would be weird if we didn’t. I should probably ask her before agreeing, but I don’t do well on the spot. “Yeah, sure, that sounds good. Is Jazz okay?”
“She will be. She’s upstairs with Liam in their room if you want to check on her.”
I glance at Xan, and he looks as uncertain as I feel. We’re not those kinds of siblings. We don’t talk to each other about our feelings, and the one time I tried to help take the heat off Jazz, all I did was escalate things so badly that she’s upstairs crying. I’m probably the last person shewants to see.
“She’s in good hands with Liam,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Yeah, we’ll leave them to it,” Xan adds, sounding almost relieved. He can’t be any more comfortable with the idea of trying to talk about our parents than I am.
It’s not like they’ll ever change, and it’s not like it’ll ever not hurt. There’s no point in rehashing it all.
9
SIERRA
Do you really need three different candles on the bathroom counter? - R
