Authors: Mae Wood
Chapter Twenty-eight
“I’ve got a lunch meeting today,” I said very articulately while brushing my teeth after our emotionally raw romp in bed. I spat. “Are you okay or would you like me to bow out?”
“Go on and go. I’m fine. In fact, I’m better than fine. I’m really happy.” He gave me a hip check to get space at the sink to brush his teeth.
“Okay. Let’s eat at home tonight. We can just order in Indian, okay? I think you need some R&R.” I turned on the shower.
“I think you need some Trip.”
“And. . . my boyfriend is back.”
“No. You mean your fiancé is back.”
“So who knows about this? Your dad, clearly.”
“Unless he told my mom, he’s the only one who knows. I wanted to give you Grangran’s ring, so I had to ask him for it.”
“And this isn’t a re-gift, if you know what I mean?”
“If you’re asking if I’ve ever even thought about giving this ring to anyone else, the answer is no.”
“Okay, weird question to ask, but when you bought a ring for she-who-shall-not-be-named, what happened to it?”
“It’s in my desk.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No. I didn’t know what to do with it, so I just put it back in my desk in the study.”
“That is so weird. You need to do something with that. Get it out of the house at least.”
“Well, the options are kind of limited. I didn’t give it to her, so it’s still mine. And it was hella expensive, so I’d take a huge haircut if I tried to sell it.” A look of panic crossed his face. “Wait, this is coming out wrong. Let me back up. If you don’t want my grandma’s ring, I will buy you whatever ring you want. I don’t care what it costs.”
“Calm down. It’s not about the ring, Trip.”
“Can you repeat that because I’m pretty sure I didn’t hear what you said.”
I laughed, dropped my robe and stepped into the shower. “It’s not about the ring, Trip. It’s about the sex,” I teased. He followed me in with a very present erection. I kissed him. Hard. Pressing my body flush up against his and letting my hands wander down his lithe frame.
“You’ve got lunch in what,” Trip looked at his tank watch, “an hour? I’m going for the gusto.” He spun me around and forced my back against the cool marble tiles. He tweaked a nipple.
“Oh, yes. Please.” I panted. “The lovey thing was good earlier, but I want you naughty.”
“I live to serve, Miss Tanner.” His hands ran under my ass and he hiked one of my thighs up, suspending me pinned against the wall and positioning himself below me.
“Yes,” I hissed.
“What do you want?”
“You.”
“Well, that’s exactly what you’re going to get.” My eyes got big.
This. This is all Trip. This is the only man I’m going to fuck for the rest of my life.
As I had my head upside down, blow-drying my hair, Trip walked into the bathroom fully dressed for work.
I hate how it takes him like fifteen minutes, including a shave, when I’m still working on my hair.
“Are you going to wear this?” He held the ring out to me
.
I righted myself and switched off the dryer. “So, your dad knows. Does my dad know?”
“Really? That’s still a thing? Didn’t that end with, I don’t know, feudalism or the Civil War or at least the women’s lib movement?” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll fix that,” he quickly amended.
“No, don’t sweat it.”
“No, I’ll fix that. Anything else I need to fix about the incredibly, uh, unique way I popped the question?”
“No. It was perfect.”
“So, you are worried what to tell our children about our first date, but that was perfect?”
“It was perfect because it was honest. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“So, I’ve got to scoot out of here like now.” I dipped into the closet and was stepping into a prim navy shift dress when Trip entered.
“Are you really not going to wear it? You haven’t even tried it on. Do you not like it? Are you changing your mind?”
“No. Not at all. On either count. I just want to be able to talk to my parents first, okay? Before anyone else finds out. And in person. This isn’t a phone call conversation. My mom would kill me if I told her something like this over the phone.”
“‘Something like this’?” parroted Trip, employing my trademark air quotes. “You can’t even say it,” he challenged.
“Are you freaking out on me?”
“I think you’re the one who is freaking out here.”
“Zip me, please.” I spun around and offered my back to him. While he zipped, I stepped into my nude pumps. “No, I’m not freaking out.” I quickly moved to flick through my jewelry pouch and pulled out my favorite chunky amethyst necklace and slipped it over my head. “I don’t want this to get to my parents before I tell them. Before we tell them.”
“Tell them what, Marisa? I need you to say it aloud. You’re scared of making this real, aren’t you?” He was imploring me with his blue eyes. Beseeching me to give him the reassurance he craved.
Trip Brannon, nervous. This is new. And yes, yes I am a little scared.
“No. It’s real. I’m just overwhelmed. This is all just so fast.”
“Say it,” he urged me.
“I’m going to marry you.”
“Then wear my ring.” He held it out to me, pinched between his forefinger and thumb. I extended my left hand and he slipped it on. The ring wouldn’t budge past my second knuckle. “So I was planning on enlisting Erica’s help and getting it sized for you. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. That’s an easy fix,” I said, pulling it off and placing it in his palm. “Size seven. Lucky number seven. You’ll be able to remember that.”
“I really don’t like you leaving without something at least. I know that sounds silly, but I want to make it real.”
“Okay. It’s not like I’m going to run off.”
“You want a loaner?”
“Are you fucking serious? Hell no. I want that out of the house. Today.”
“Yes, ma’am. Okay, what about my fraternity pin?”
“Really? Like are you going to gather your brothers under my dorm window and serenade me?”
“I just want to give you something, okay? To make it real. This hasn’t gone exactly how I thought it would, but I want to do it right, Marisa.”
“Fine. Pin me. Do you know the song?”
He snorted. “The only fraternity songs I remember are limericks about sex acts.”
“Okay. Go for it.”
“You seriously want to hear about a man from Nantucket while I pin you?”
“Have you ever pinned a girl before?”
“No. Also like the asking your dad thing, I thought that went out in the 1970s.”
“Fine.” I walked back into the bathroom and applied a little make up. Swiping on my lipstick, I heard Trip clear his throat.
“There once was a man from Nantucket, whose dick was so long he could suck it.”
Really?
“Please,” I held up my hands and turned toward him. “I was just kidding. I do
not
want to know how that ends.”
He stepped toward me. “Marisa Tanner, will you wear my pin?”
I was overcome by giggles. “Yes. I will wear your pin. I’ll also marry you. Happy?”
“In a second I will be.” He inserted his left hand under my neckline and deftly affixed the small gold shield to my dress. “There. You’re mine.”
“That’s never been in doubt. Can I have the ring?”
“Whose ring?” he asked, angling for me to say it. To make it real once again.
“My engagement ring.”
“Of course. Do you want me to take it to get it sized to lucky number seven?”
“Not yet.” I dug around in my jewelry pouch and pulled out the antique locket my parents had given me for my eighteenth birthday. I slipped the locket off its chain and slid on Trip’s ring. I brushed my chestnut hair over one shoulder and fastened the clasp. I dropped the ring under my dress where it was next to my skin and hidden from view. “Not today. I want this to be real, Trip.”
“It is.”
***
I shoved the morning aside throughout my lady lawyers lunch meeting. I agreed to sit on a panel discussion on gender issues in the workplace for college students, but throughout lunch I kept rubbing my chest, feeling the ring against my skin. “Marisa, are you okay?” asked my friend Carly. We’d met studying for the bar exam together and kept in touch even though she practiced tax law at a competing law firm.
“Of course.”
“You just seem a little distracted today.”
Because I am. I’m insanely distracted. I don’t even remember driving myself here for lunch.
“I’m just slammed. I’ve got a trial in three weeks.”
And I’m also supposed to get married to a man I just met in August – what? Two weeks after that? Holy fuck. What did I agree to? This is fucking insane. Who gets married to someone they just met? Who plans a wedding in six weeks? While being in trial? I barely even have time to feed myself or run while I’m in trial.
“Marisa? Hey. You really don’t look well.”
“Yeah, sorry. Maybe I’m coming down with something.”
“There is a cold going around. My husband has it and the baby just got over it. Are you congested? You keep rubbing your chest. Any fever?”
“No,” I shook my head. “No fever.”
I finally made it into my office in a trance. Jane watched me walk by her doorway. “Marisa, are you okay?” she called, her voice full of concern.
“I honestly feel like I might throw up.”
“Can I get you anything?”
“A Sprite? I’m just going to go into my office and work with my door closed. Can you keep folks out?”
“Yes. Why don’t you go home?”
I ignored her concern and plopped my handbag on a guest chair.
Because I agreed to marry Trip fucking Brannon this morning. I’m getting married in about six weeks? Six weeks? Who gets married in six weeks? Is this totally insane? Yes. This is insane.
I exhaled and turned on my computer. I began wading through my morning email and sipped on the Sprite Jane had brought me. One new email popped up. [email protected]. Subject: I mean it.
Oh, emails at work. This is real.
We’d scrupulously avoided personal emails before we’d “gone public.” Too much potential for discovery. With my heart in my throat, I clicked open.
Marisa, I know this morning was unconventional. I know these last few months have been a little nuts. I probably shouldn’t have asked you that way, but I did. You are it for me. I meant everything I said to you and more. Yours forever, Trip.
Mine forever?
I stared at the pixels on the screen until they began to blur as my eyes filled with tears.
I’m marrying the man I love. How did I get so fucking lucky?
I picked up the phone and dialed Trip’s direct line. Jenny answered and patched me through immediately.
“Hello, beautiful.”
“That was the best email I’ve ever gotten.”
“Better than learning you won an appeal at the Tennessee Supreme Court?”
“Not that I know, but I’d say better than winning at the United States Supreme Court.”
“Wow. From an email. I’ll send them more often.”
“So, can we talk logistics tonight? I’m beginning to freak out.” The line went silent. “No, freak out isn’t the right word. I’m not changing my mind. I’m looking at my calendar and we’ve got a lot to talk about between now and Christmas.”
“It doesn’t have to be Christmas.”
“No. It does. I’m not denying you that. It’s important to you to get married by the end of the year. We’ll do that.”
I heard a thunk and spun around in my chair. Jane stood there, her mouth agape, her eyes wide, and a binder on the floor. “Hey, I’ve got to go. Get Jenny to have the latest and greatest version of your calendar together before the end of the day. Home around seven?”
“Yes, General Tanner,” he laughed. “I do love you.”
Breathe. Be brave.
“I love you, too.” I placed the handset back in its cradle. Jane stopped staring and picked up the binder to quickly flee. “Hey, wait. Come on in and shut the door behind you.”
“I am so sorry, Marisa. You said no one, but I didn’t think that meant me. I was just giving you the jury instructions I’d formatted.”
“Please, sit.” I stood and took the binder from her. “Really, sit down,” I said, gesturing to one of my guest chairs while I returned to my seat. I could tell she didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know where to start. Didn’t know what she could or couldn’t ask. “Okay, so I thought I’d tell my parents first, but looks like you’re getting this honor.” I smiled at her, happy but nervous to be telling anyone.
She relaxed a little.
Good.
“So, this is super secret. Like as secret as what a client’s top settlement figure is, okay?”
Jane nodded. “You’re marrying him?”