Page 46 of Contingently Yours

Dad looks at me then. It’s a look of guilt and shame. He groans and turns back to the window, swiping up his drink.

“Do you see?” Mom says, finally looking at me too as she gestures to Dad.

Dad lets out a snort and glances over his shoulder. “Yeah, do you see what I’ve been dealing with for forty years? Why I stressed to you to stop sowing so many wild oats because it might bite you in the ass someday?”

Mom growls, actually growls, and does that foot-stomping thing again. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.”

Turning around, Dad goes full Rhett Butler on her, commenting dryly, “Why? It would have the same effect.”

I nearly gasp right along with Mom upon hearing that. Dad has never sassed her in his life. He just…takes it. Now at least I know why.

“How dare you!” Mom hisses all melodramatically, her face beet red.

Slamming his glass down, I watch Dad march over, closing the distance between them.

I am completely slack-jawed, uncertain what to do as he cups her face in both his hands.

They’ve never gotten physical before. What he does next is a new one, too.

He kisses her long and hard until she comes up panting and gasping for air with a little whimper.

“I love you, Loretta Broadhouse. I’ve loved you since the day I met you.

I’ve loved you for forty years, while you’ve beaten me over the head after finding out I had a one-night stand with your brother—a year before I met you—that he made me swear not to tell you about.

I was so happy the day I married you, I wanted to kiss everyone in that damn reception hall.

I love you even though you drive me crazy,” he stresses, giving her a little shake.

“I hope one of these years you’ll figure that out before we die. ”

With that, he drops his hands and makes his way to the door. Turning at the last minute, he glances at me and clears his throat, looking a bit more composed. “Um…congratulations,” he says, but then his gaze shifts to my mother and he adds, “Welcome to the club.”

It feels like my brain was just chopped up in a food dicer.

I turn to my mother. She looks ruffled in more ways than one, lips puffy from Dad’s big-dick-energy moment.

Her jaw is gaping, and I can see now that I was wrong about the Botox.

She looks completely stunned as she stares at the place where he left. Should I fan her or something?

“Mom?”

Jumping, she looks at me and composes herself, tucking back a loose strand of hair.

“Um…everything’s fine.” Walking over, she gives me a quick hug and a peck on the cheek.

“Why…um, why don’t you go say hi to Shaw and Terry?

They were asking about you. You can tell them about your…

work…man.” She pats my hand and then hurries in the direction my father went.

I stand, stupefied, listening to the sound of her hurried steps down the hallway. “Jacob?” Her call echoes, sounding desperate, and dare I say, more loving than I’ve ever heard her utter it.

What the fuck just happened?

I lose more time staring at the empty doorway. It feels strange to be at the scene of the crime, so I wander dazed out into the backyard. I find Shaw and Terry sitting at a table, eating lunch, oblivious. How do I even recount what just happened?

“Well, well. Look who’s back from the bush,” Terry chirps.

Dropping into a chair next to them, I stare at the spread of plates on the red-and-blue checkered tablecloth. I can’t do it. There’s just no way to skirt around it.

“Your dad and my dad screwed,” I blurt, looking at Shaw.

“I’m eating,” he complains.

“I’m serious! Forty years ago, apparently.”

Frowning around a bite, he spares me only a flicker of eye contact and continues eating. “Yeah. I know.”

“You knew? ”

Shrugging, he takes a sip of his beer like this isn’t vital information. “I heard Mom and Dad talking about it once when I was a teenager, about why your parents never invite them to stuff.” Frowning, he finally gives me his full attention. “You didn’t know?”

How is this my life? I was always kind of jealous of Shaw’s upbringing with his blunt and carefree parents, but now I’m sick from it.

He knew the truth that kept my parents at each other’s throats for years because his folks were honest, while mine chose to bury their secrets with fake smiles and table manners.

If I’d known, I could have just slapped some sense into them.

There’s clearly no pining on Uncle Lou’s end, the way he and Aunt Vera dote on each other.

Shaking my head, I close my eyes, fighting a headache.

Did I know? No one tells me anything, apparently.

“No. I told them about me and Lucas, and Mom said it was Dad’s fault,” I explain.

“Oh my word, that woman can hold a grudge,” Terry moans. Sighing, he adds, “Knowing that Lou and Vera are swingers probably doesn’t help her paranoia, though, I guess.”

Holy shit. What? But I don’t get to ask because his eyes go wide.

“Wait! Did you just say you told them about Lucas, as in…you’re officially a thing?”

Ugh. Shaw needs to consider his plus-one selection more thoroughly in the future. Talk about kicking a man while he’s down and traumatized. “No. We’re…nothing.”

Terry winces. “Oh, no. You prodded, didn’t you?” Gasping, he covers his mouth. “Did you not lube? I told you to use lube!”

“Again…I’m eating,” Shaw whines.

The only thing official in my life is that I have no way to navigate it anymore. Dropping my head into my hands, I groan. “This is the worst day ever.”

Terry’s palm slaps the table in my line of view. The silverware clatters from the force. “Shut up! Stop it right now! You’re in love!”

I don’t remember telling him that. If I’m supposed to have some kind of reaction to his shocked expression, he’s going to be disappointed.

“Again…worst day ever.” Stealing his beer, I take a long drink. I set it down, fully expecting a typical Terry outburst, but instead, his pouty expression looks more like sympathy.

Reaching over, he lays a hand on my forearm.

“Oh, honey. What happened?”

Honey? Wh-what the hell is happening now? I can’t take any more weird today.

Terry being nice to me is officially weirder than Dad having a one-night stand with Uncle Lou. Maybe even weirder than the thought of Aunt Vera lighting one of the candles I gave her for a threesome. The woman bakes me cookies and knits.

Except now Shaw is looking at me, too, like he’s invested.

“I don’t know.” I throw my hands up and swipe Terry’s beer back since apparently I’m off the hook for thievery right now.

“He’s freaking out over planning his sisters’ double wedding and went off on me.

Some bullshit about how this never would have worked, and he’ll just see me at the office where we can go back to trying not to kill each other because ‘ that’s what would have happened anyway, right?

’” I imitate his hurtful untruth. He once claimed that he was honest. Well, how does he know that’s what would have happened?

“He didn’t even give me a chance,” I grumble.

“Sweetheart, planning a wedding is like being in a cage match. Double wedding? Forget it. You cannot fault the man for being stressed out.”

Hello, if anyone knows that Lucas can stress, it’s me. I don’t need Terry to tell me the obvious.

“I don’t! I said I’d help, but he said my suggestions weren’t helping.”

“Okay, talking and doing are two very different things. Men, I swear.” He sighs and rolls his eyes. “Take this one for example,” he adds, gesturing to Shaw.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shaw asks.

Terry folds his arms over his chest and bats a hand in the air, giving my cousin a knowing look. I don’t believe this. Does everyone in my family stop to think about their own problems when I tell them I’m in the middle of a crisis?

“Hello!” I wave my hand. “Emergency here!”

Lolling his head back toward me, Terry takes a breath like I’m boring him. “Look, if you love your man, you gotta show him the love. I’m talking white-knight shit. Mani, pedi, massages.” He rattles on, counting things off on his fingers.

We clearly have different opinions of the activities of white knights.

“If he’s stressed,” he continues, “destress that shit before something else does it for you, and you’re just the guy who stood by and watched the dumpster burn. You ride up in there in your best shining armor and serenade that damsel in distress.”

As I stare at the most obnoxious cousin-in-law on the planet, I have the urge to laugh. Maybe people are bound to give decent advice sooner or later.

“What are you doing?” Shaw asks as I pop up from my chair.

“I have to go. I know what to do.”

“Oh, my God. Did I just save the day?” Terry claps excitedly.

He looks so hopeful. His eyes, so full of visions of happily-ever-afters for me. That’s…really sweet. I never would’ve imagined him rooting for me.

“Fuck no. I’m the one who has to do the legwork.”