Page 48 of Liberating Bells
He holds out his palm for me to hand it over. I press my lips tightly together as I pick up the phone and power it down. My eyes glance at the clock on the screen: five-forty. Ryan’s probably almost there. He wraps his fingers around the device when I hand it to him, and then he puts it down by the table next to the front door, placing his own on top of it. No interruptions. No distractions.
I sigh, but turn back to the sausage I’m trying to cook. Ryan will just have to wait. Mark goes back to chopping onions. A few minutes later, I hear him swear and reach for a paper towel.
“Shit. I just sliced my finger instead of the onion,” he hisses. “Do you still have Band-Aids in your bathroom?”
I nod, and he hurries off, holding the towel tightly to his finger. I keep stirring the meat. At first, I hear him rustling around in my bathroom closet, but then it goes silent. I peek down the hallway, but I don’t see him.
Turning the stove down to a medium-low, I trail after him. “Mark, is everything okay?”
Weird, he’s not in the bathroom. I turn the corner into my bedroom and see him standing by my dresser. He quickly sticks his hand in his pocket and looks at me sheepishly.
“I didn’t find any in the bathroom, and I know you keep a stash in here. Sorry.”
I smile at him and move closer, taking his sliced hand in my own. The towel is stuck to the wound, and I pull at it. He hisses again, and I can’t help but roll my eyes at my fiancé. It’s not even that deep of a cut. But still, I wrap the Band-Aid tightly around his injury and take his good hand, leading him back to the kitchen to finish cooking.
When the lasagna is fully assembled and layered with mozzarella, we stick it in the oven to bake, along with the loaf ofgarlic bread I found in my freezer. Thankfully, Mark bought the instant noodles that don’t have to be pre-boiled. We settle on the couch together while we wait.
Mark stretches out in the corner, extending his arm over the back of the couch. I shoot him a smile and curl up next to him. He wraps his arm around me, letting his hand fall onto my hip. “So, what should we watch?” he asks.
I reach for the remote to my TV and turn it onto Netflix. I don’t give it much thought and just select one of the first titles that pop up on my home screen. Mark doesn’t comment.
The movie begins; the characters are introduced. When the kitchen timer goes off, Mark strolls into the kitchen to pull the dish out and let it sit for a moment. I pause our movie, so he doesn’t miss anything. While waiting for the food to cool, Mark takes the wine out of the freezer and pours us each a hefty glass. I try not to grimace when he hands me mine.
He sits down again and holds his glass up to mine, offering a toast. “To a lifetime of wonderful evenings like this together.” I clink my glass with his and take a sip, feeling the bitter red wine coat my tongue. I force myself to swallow it.
Mark sets his glass down on the table and then turns to me, taking my hand. “Hey, I just wanted you to know that everything I said in session the other day I meant with my whole heart.” He squeezes my fingers. He’s talking about our last couple’s counseling session, when he spoke words to me that I never thought I’d hear from him. “You are the most important thing in my life, and I want to make sure that you know that. I love you.”
“I love you too, Mark,” I say softly, feeling my heart stammering against my chest. This time, I take the initiative and lean forward to capture his lips with mine.
He kisses me back, but then leans back slightly, pressing his forehead against mine. “I can’t wait to marry you, Izabel. I can’twait for you to be my wife.” I don’t respond and kiss him again. He cups the side of my neck and inhales deeply.
“Speaking of weddings,” he mutters against my mouth. I pause for a second before putting distance between us, not liking the sound of where he’s taking this. “My mom wants to take you to a wedding expo tomorrow. You’re not busy, right? I told her you would go.”
I tilt my head and frown. “I mean, no, I’m not busy. But I wish you would have asked me before you told her yes.”
He shrugs. “I figured it would be good for you. To bond with her. I know things between you two haven’t exactly been...smooth.”
I look at him incredulously. “Ihave no problem with your mother.Shehas a serious problem with me, though.”
“No, she doesn’t. She loves you. I wish you would just give her a chance. She’s my mother, Izabel.”
I sigh, knowing that no matter what I say, he will not change his stance on this matter. “Fine. I’ll go to the stupid expo.”
“Great. I knew you’d understand.” Pecking my lips again, he runs into the kitchen to serve up our plates. He brings them out, both piled high with cheesy lasagna, a slice of garlic bread, and a fresh-looking salad.
The movie resumes, and we both dig in. I find myself spacing enough that I’m not entirely sure what the movie is even about. I can’t help but feel sick to my stomach, knowing I’ll have to spend most of the day with Mark’s mom tomorrow.
She’s the definition ofSmother-in-law.
Everything has to meet specific standards, otherwise, “What will the club members think?” She has never liked me since the very beginning of our relationship. A high school history teacher didn’t seem to meet her high expectations for her sweet Marky-poo.
Barf.
Oh well. I’ll attend this expo with her, and hopefully, then she’ll leave me alone. We’re coming up on the end of June, meaning our wedding is only three months away. There’s still lots to do, but soon it will be over, and I won’t have to worry about setting examples or following traditions. I’ll just be married, and life can go on.
Hopefully.
After the movie is done, Mark takes our plates over to the sink to rinse them off. I stay on the couch, forcing down another sip of this god-awful wine. Once they’re dried and put away, he advances over to the table to grab our phones. Our date must be over. I watch him power mine on, and before I can seize it from him, the alerts start rolling in, the phone chiming with the multiple notifications, one after another. His eyes narrow as he reads them, one by one.
