“I don’t know. I never asked. I never considered that she’d have been a bigger pain in the ass to Rosie than me.”
“Well,” Avery said. “That is a very valid point. And I will consider the midget porn thing. Are you sure you don’t need me to come this weekend?”
I wanted my best friend and roommate at the wedding. She had a standing invite based upon the time she could get off work. In other words: my parents didn’t want to upset her parents since basically, our entire lives were intertwined, and my mom freaking loved Avery.
“Aves, if you can get off work, even for Sunday, you know you have a chair,” I reminded her.
“I’m not asking that. I’m asking if you need me. That’s something different. Do you need me?”
I nodded before I could change my mind. “But only if you can get away.”
She winked. “I’m sure I can figure something out.”
CHAPTER THREE – POPPY
Family and Fuck This
WELCOME TO KEY WEST.
I didn’t feel very welcome. The sign was bright and beautiful, sure. Friendly and touristy, but I wanted to be anywhere other than here.
It didn’t really matter that I’d seen that sign forty-five minutes ago. The roads all looked the same, and it was a miracle that they still did with all the tourists who drove up and down them every single day.
I already knew how this weekend would go. My nephew would make havoc rain down at every given opportunity. Grandpa would pull out some random story from his back pocket and tell everyone about it whether they wanted to hear it or not. My control-freak sister would go full Bridezilla. My mother would go all demon Queen and strike the fear of God into anyone who dared speak out of place.
And my dad? Well, he’d likely slip a glass of whiskey into the bathroom on a semi-regular basis.
I’d join him. That was the only way to cope with my freaking family.
I sighed as the giant resort my sister had booked for the wedding came into view. I wasn’t even on the resort property yet, but I could already tell I was a fish out of water.
No doubt both my mom and sister would be dressed to the nines like decent ladies. I was dressed in a shirt with a rooster and the caption, “What the cluck?” and ripped jean shorts.
God, I should have gotten a stomach bug. Faked it. Because this situation was only going to get worse when Adam showed up later this afternoon.
Fact was, what Avery had said to me made perfect sense, and I’d spent the last few days wondering what in the hell I was doing.
I didn’t know Adam from, well…Adam. I didn’t know anything about him. Sure, I knew that he had a body that would make a room full of women cry and a pretty magic cock—and one hell of a tongue.
But that didn’t change the fact that I didn’t know anything about him as a person. I didn’t know where he was born or if he moved or grew up there. What did he do for work? Did he graduate from college? What was his major? Did he have any hobbies? Who was he, really?
How the hell did I get through this without my eagle-eyed mother figuring out what I’d done? Then, no matter what happened, I was in big trouble. For lying, trickery—God only knew what kind of shit she’d pull out of her hat.
Ugh. This was just going to be hell on Earth, wasn’t it?
Why was I asking that? I knew that. I knew that this weekend would be hell the second Rosie had announced she was engaged and had set a date and booked the venue. Quite literally all in the same breath.
I’d moved out of Key West to see my family as little as possible. You can imagine how delighted I’d been to hear that I had to spend four days with them.
Now, as I pulled into the expansive parking lot that would rapidly fill up with my sister’s guests, those four days had begun.
I turned off the engine and sat for a while. With any luck, I’d be able to check into my room and dump my suitcase before running into any of my family.
Actually, my dad would be okay. He’d smuggle me to the bar and give me a shot of liquid courage to get through this weekend.
Hell, I needed the whole bottle.
Ugh. Double ugh. Triple ugh.
Knock knock.
I jumped at the knock right next to my head, whacking my hand on the gearstick in the process. Jerking my head around, I literally bit back a groan at the sight of my mother’s face pressed against my window.
She tapped one baby-pink nail on the glass and wiggled it in a motion that told me my game was up, and it was time to open the window.
I pressed the button to unwind it. “Hi, Mom.”
“Poppy!” She practically put her head through the window and tucked her chestnut-dyed hair behind her ear. “Why are you sitting out here in the parking lot?”
“I just got here,” I lied. If by “just” I meant twenty minutes, then sure.
“No, you haven’t. I saw your car pull in twenty minutes ago.”
“Were you watching?”
“Of course. You said you’d be here around eleven, and it’s eleven-thirty.”
Great. I should have known.
“Why are you sitting in the parking lot?” she repeated, smacking her light-pink lips together and shooting me a piercing gaze courtesy of her dark-blue eyes. “Are you delaying coming inside? For your own sister’s wedding?”
Jesus. I wasn’t even out of the car yet, and my inner black sheep was already showing.
“No. I have a headache. I took some ibuprofen and I was waiting for it to kick in before going inside.” Another lie, but this time, a little more believable.
Mom squinted. “You don’t look like you have a headache.”
I stared at her. “They have visible symptoms now?”
“Migraines do.”
“I don’t have a migraine. I have a headache. They’re entirely different.”
“Excellent. Well, twenty minutes should be long enough for your pills to kick in, so come on. We have things to do.” She stepped back from the car and opened the door.
That told me.
I grabbed my purse from the passenger seat and got out. “We? What do I have to do?”
“You’re the maid of honor. You have to ensure your sister has everything she needs.”
I almost choked on my own spit. “You want me to be her slave for the weekend?”
“No. But, you need to organize the bridesmaids, ensure the flowers are delivered to the right room on Sunday afternoon, make sure the bartenders on the beach bar don’t mess up the cocktails. Oh, and you also need to try their proposed special cocktails and pick two to be served at the reception.”
Okay. I could get on board with the last option. “Do I have to pay for the cocktails?”
Mom paused by the trunk of my car. “That’s what you’re concerned about?”
“This place charges fifteen bucks a cocktail. I’m a waitress. Of course I’m concerned about it.” What? I wasn’t going to beat around the bush.
She sighed. “No, you do not have to pay for them. But you are not to get drunk. Oh, and, also—keep an eye on your father. I already stole a whiskey bottle from his suitcase.”
“He knows how to handle family gatherings,” I said under my breath as I opened the trunk.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, Mom.” I hauled out my case.
“Poppy, where’s your bridesmaid dress?” Mom’s eyes widened.
Oh, good. Rosie hadn’t told her.
“It’s here. In Rosie’s suite. Where it’s supposed to be.”
She grabbed my wrist. “No, no. The last thing I heard, bridesmaids were bringing their dresses. Did you forget it?”
“Chill out, Mom,” my sister called. “It’s in my room.” She bounded down the stairs leading to the resort building and over to my car, her honey-blonde hair flowing behind her. “Hey, you!” She enveloped me in a big, tight hug.
I hugged her back. We had a great relationship. Mostly because we only saw each other on occasion. No doubt we’d hate each other if we saw each other every day—we were too alike.
“Mom, seriously, chill,” Rosie said, letting me go and touching her arm. “I went up to Orlando to find my dress, remember? We picked the bridesmaids’ dresses then, and I had them ship them all down to me. Poppy’s stayed so she could have her final fitting. It was here waiting when I checked in on Tuesday. I swear.”