Page 57 of Honeyed

“Go, now. We’ll talk about this when you’ve calmed down.” Mom glares at her husband.

Dad wavers, angry, hurt eyes taking us all in before harrumphing grumpily and lumbering back to the kitchen.

Mom turns to me. “I’ll call George and have him fix it, no worries, sweetheart. You two go home and relax.”

She’s trying to gloss this over, be the good cop, but the pain of Dad’s words is nearly tattooed on my skin.

I let Warren guide me to the car, my happy bubble burst, and I think of nothing else but the doubt and lack of support from the one man I’ve always tried so hard to impress.

No matter how many good things I’ve done in recent months, I don’t think I’ll ever measure up to my brothers in his eyes.

23

ALANA

“You were totally avoiding our canal walk when we weren’t talking, admit it.”

I point my finger at Warren as we walk along with iced coffees, the early morning light washing over the red dirt under our shoes and water rushing next to us.

“Of course I was, but you were, too. I couldn’t bear to come here without you. It felt wrong.” He traces my face with his palm, and I lean into it.

“Same here. We’ve been doing this walk since that morning after Jeremy Ham puked on you at that National Honor Society induction.” I chuckle, remembering how disgusted Warren looked in that auditorium.

“And you let Chuck Easton ask you to the winter formal. I was so fucking jealous.” He smirks.

“You could have asked me yourself.” I bat my eyelashes at him.

He shrugs. “Eh, I got the girl in the end. And now she’s wearing my ring, how smart am I?”

I roll my eyes. “Oh, shove it, brainiac.”

He pulls me into his side, and we take a quiet moment to sip our coffees through the straws—the summer air whips past our shorts-clad legs. We got up extra early today to come down here, and Warren promised me scones from our favorite valley bakery after as a reward. But he didn’t want to get caught in the summer crowds who would no doubt pack the canal after nine a.m. now that Memorial Day has passed.

“I almost asked, you know. That night I drove you home from that bake sale we worked. It was dark in your driveway, no one was home, shockingly. I almost leaned over and spilled my guts then asked you, but I thought you might say no.”

Warren stops our motion and turns me to him, holding my waist with his free hand.

“Even after all this time, you thought I didn’t feel the exact same way?” It’s a miracle he didn’t notice how I mooned over him.

“I guess I was an idiot kid. Or maybe I didn’t think someone as perfect as you would want someone like me.”

“Good thing you were forced to marry me, then,” I joke, pushing up on my toes to brush my lips to his.

But Warren moves back. “Hey, that’s not true. I had an option, and I chose the one that gave me you. Don’t say it like that.”

“I was joking.” Although, it’s not like I haven’t been insecure about this.

“Even so, I’m with you because I want this marriage. In every single way. You’re it for me, Al.” Now he kisses me, sweetly, purely.

Picking up his hand again, I set us in motion, wanting to earn my bakery treats.

“Everything worked out with George?” I ask, knowing he was in contact with my parent’s trusted electrician.

The subject still hurts thinking about how my father wouldn’t help us out, but I’ve been swallowing down the awkwardness.

Warren nods. “It was just a simple snipped wire, all fixed. Thank God. It won’t take any time from our opening day timeline, so we’re still on track.”

“I scheduled a bunch of vendor product drop-offs this week, so we’ll have to start the stock room organization.” I clap my hands together because I thrive with challenges like that.

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