Page 89 of The Backup Groom

“Cheers,” we all said, clinking glasses.

When Amber lifted her glass to drink, my mom’s eyes went wide, and her smile grew to the size of our dinner plates.

“Is that an engagement ring on your finger?” she asked, reaching for Amber’s hand.

Crap. Crap. Crap.

I was hoping to have at least one glass of wine in me before I broke the news.

Amber held up her hand. “Yes, it is. Scotty and I are getting married.”

“Rock on!” my dad said. He glanced at me with a confused look on his face. “But I thought you and Tiffany were waiting for the—”

I held up my hand, my heart about to explode from where he was going with his end of the conversation. “We don’t talk about her or my past, Dad. Let’s focus on the present. Remember? Living moment to moment.” I turned to Amber. “Tiffany is my ex, and that’s all you need to know.” My heart was still banging against my ribs, hoping that I’d nipped that topic in the bud.

“Yeah, we don’t need to talk about her. And I don’t want to talk about my ex.” Amber reached over and placed her hand on top of mine. “Besides, Scotty is ready for an upgrade.”

Dad high-fived Amber. “I love your spirit!”

My mom pressed a palm to her chest. “Congratulations!” She jumped out of her chair and came around to hug us both. “This makes my heart sing. I want to hear everything. How did you meet?” She sat back down, eagerly waiting for one of us to answer.

“One day, I tried his famous Caramel Spockiato—the rest was history,” Amber said. “I was hooked on the drink. And later, on the man.” She leaned closer and kissed me, which sent sparks zinging through my body like an electrical short circuit.

“Scotty told me he was never getting hitched again, so you two must be very compatible,” my dad said. “Compatibility is important for a successful marriage, especially in the sack.”

I almost spit out my wine.

No topic was considered off limits to them, so I shouldn’t have been surprised. I just wondered how Amber was going to handle their openness about sex and the human body. It would have been highly amusing were it to happen to just about anyone else, but our relationship was so new. I hadn’t appropriately warned her about what to expect.

I glanced over.

She giggled and took a sip of her wine—a good sign. She looked one hundred percent relaxed, which was wonderful to see.

My mom winked at my dad. “I’m sure Amber has already tested the merchandise, or she wouldn’t have said yes.”

“He’s a chip off the old block!” Dad said proudly.

“We women have standards and expectations and needs, do we not, Amber?” Mom added.

Amber smirked. “You’ve got that right. Lucky for me, Scotty checks all my boxes. Don’t you, muffin?”

“Muffin?” I repeated.

Where the heck had that come from?

Amber reached under the table and squeezed my inner thigh, causing me to jump in my seat and smack my hand on the bottom side of the table.

“Ouch.” I opened and closed my fist. “Can we eat now?” My voice was strained and high-pitched, like I had sucked on a balloon filled with helium.

My dad seemed to get a kick out of our conversation, “Good idea, son. Loading up on the carbs will give you energy for later when you need it.” He winked. “No need to drive home tonight if you’re not up to it. We have a new queen-size bed in the guest bedroom, in case someone wants to take her for a spin.” He grinned, winked, and took a bite of his garlic bread.

“Ah—that’s good to know,” Amber said, looking amused with her silly, surprised smile.

“Don’t let your dinner get cold, smoochy,” I said, reaching under the table for her leg, seeing if she could handle the heat better than I did.

Amber caught me off guard with her response. She looked deep into my eyes, her pupils slightly dilated, then stared at my mouth.

“You have very sexy lips,” Amber announced loudly. “So kissable.” She leaned over and kissed me, blowing my mind.