In the Mix (22 page)

“You ok, baby?” I pat her back.

“Don’t,” cough, “call . . . me . . . baby,” she continues to cough out.

“You ok, beautiful?” I correct myself. She nods. Ok. It has nothing to do with
me
calling her baby—it’s ‘baby’ in general. Hmm . . .

“That would be a product of CiCi and me, having a little fun with our dear, nosy neighbor.” I turn my attention back to my mom. I then fill her in on what it is we said, exactly.

“You two are
so
bad!” Mom laughs. “However, you are no match for me!” She points her chopstick in the air like “checkmate.”

“Ah, what did my dear, sweet, wouldn’t harm a fly, mother do?”

“Well,” she begins, “Joan was very interested in my apron. Yes, she said, ‘Well, now, Winnie, that’s a very interesting apron you have on,’ trying not to state the obvious.”

“Make me proud, Mama, what did you say?” CiCi is already laughing. I’m digesting the fact that she just referred to my mother as ‘Mama.’

I fucking hate how much I love it.

Mom giggles (Dad doesn’t . . . ahem). “I think I may have, CiCi.” She waves her hand at her in the way that girls do, ya know, the ‘just listen’ wave. “I said to her, ‘isn’t it lovely? CiCi knows how much I love to cook chicken. Always trying a new recipe. She said, ‘Well, are you sure that was her intention behind the apron, dear?’ She was behaving so skeptically. I said, ‘of course, Joan . . . wait for it . . .” she trails off in a laugh. Mom goes from laughing to practically crying. It takes her a good minute before she seems as if she can finish. “I said, ‘of course, Joan . . . what else would I do with a cock, besides put it in my oven?’” We all burst into laughter. “CiCi, I kept a straight face, too!” Mom boasts at her accomplishment.

“I can’t even begin to tell you how hard I love you right now.” She gets up and heads over to my mom, still laughing, and gives her a hug.

I’m not going to lie . . .

Pitter pat. Pitter pat. Pitter pat.

“CiCi!” Linz almost screeches as CiCi sits back down.

“What?” she asks, seemingly alarmed.

“I just thought of something!” Linz giggles.

“What’s that?” CiCi encourages her.

“If you marry my brother, we can call you CCC!”

CiCi looks a bit panicked, people.

“I got one better,” I pipe up.

“What?” Everyone says in unison. Well, except for CiCi . . . she still has headlights on her.

“Whenever CiCi gets pissed off at me, after we’re married, we can call her . . .” I trail off.

Wait for it . . .

Wait for it . . .

“C-3PO!” I bellow out. Everyone laughs. Everyone except “Bambi.” Suddenly, a smile breaks through her lips.

“And I’ll be able to cuss you out in over six million forms of communication,” she sasses.

“You know how many forms of communication he can speak?” I ask in awe.

“Duh . . .” she trails off and rolls her eyes.

“You just shot up on the “Hot Meter” by about ten thousand points, just so you know.” I bite on my lower lip and think about the form of communication that I’d like to have with her at this moment.

If my parents weren’t here, she’d be spread out on this table like dessert.

“I may or may not have a gold bikini.”

I’d like to take this moment and pray for my erection.

It. Hurts.

“Kyle! Son!” Dad bellows out, snapping me back from my thoughts.

“Huh?”

“Where the hell did you go in that mind of yours?”

“Tatooine.” I shake it off. “Sorry.” I offer. Dad chuckles at me. CiCi is doing the little giggle she does through her nose sometimes. I’m sitting here, slightly mortified.

“I asked when you were leaving for Spain.” Dad questions before shoving another huge bite of food in.

“Wednesday,” I answer and avoid CiCi’s eyes that, I’m sure, are now on me.

“How long are you going to be gone for?” CiCi asks quietly. She sounds sort of vulnerable.

“I’m not sure.” I glance her way. “I’m training two of the guys so they can learn the ins and outs of the negotiations that we do overseas.”

She doesn’t reply. As a matter of fact, everyone seems to get real quiet. I don’t know what CiCi’s thinking, but I’m pretty sure it’s not good.

I grab her hand as we stroll down the walkway from my parents. We have just said our goodbyes to them and now I’ve got to figure out a way to convince her to stay with me the next few days.

“So, can I stay with you tonight? I’d like to hit that shit again.” She sways my hand and gives me a crooked smile.

“Sure. But I should warn you, my finger may slip in and play with your ass again.”

“Look, it’s a lot of pressure, but, nobody wants to be a party of one. Your finger should bring a friend.”

My cock just twitched.

“Are you sure? I mean, we don’t want to crowd your tight space. It could feel like a rude intrusion.”

“True, but I think it’s time I loosen up—get ready for bigger things.”

I think it’s weeping.

“If that’s the case, you should just stay with me so I can better help you prepare for that.” I spin her around, once we approach her car, so that her back is up against the door.

“I think that’s a fantastic idea.” Her rapid breaths match mine.

“You do? You’ll stay with me?” I jerk my head back.

“Yeah, is that ok?” She seems a little uncertain now.

“That. Is. More. Than. Ok.” I kiss her between my words.

Wow, that was easy, huh?

“Alright, I guess I’ll follow you, then?” she asks, pulling away from our kisses.

“No. Just grab your stuff. We’ll take my car. Why the hell did you park so far away from our house, anyways?” I add the last bit in quick.

“I wasn’t sure how many people were coming, or if there was going to be old people, so I parked farther away. I’m only a few houses down; it’s not a big deal.” She points out the obvious. Me? I’m staring at her in awe. See, here’s something that I’m not sure CiCi realizes yet but every time she drops a brick from her wall, I not only take notice but I soak in that moment. Why? Because it’s not just that she was thinking of the possibility of an elderly guest, it was because she told me she thought of them. Look, I know CiCi is a good person with a heart of gold. The thing is that CiCi doesn’t really like people to know. Did she say this to me? No. Did she have to? No. But with that all said, when she shows me this side of her, without any hesitation, that, right there, is the winning ticket. I haven’t mentioned it once to her when she’s done it. I think that’s the way to go, otherwise, she’d be sure to pull that ticket straight out of my hand in the future. So, instead, I take in the moment, secretly celebrating, knowing I’m that much closer to her heart.

“Did you hear anything I just said?” She toes up so she’s eye to eye with me.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I got lost in my thoughts. What did you say?” I glide my hands on to her hips.

“I said I have to work in the morning. I’m going to need my car.”

“I’ll drive you to work.” I grab her keys from her to unlock her door. “Excuse me.” I grab the handle to her back door and wait for her to move out of the way.

“Don’t you get up super early to get down to Boston? Where do you live, anyhow?” She tilts her head like she’s pondering.

“Here, in Windham, a few blocks away.” I stop myself from further explaining why I live in the same town as my parents. That’s probably because CiCi just gave me a knowing smile.

She’s the only one who’s ever understood.

Pitter pat. Pitter pat. Pitter pat.

She moves out of the way, allowing me access into her car. I grab her stuff, shut the door, lock it, and reach for her hand to lead the way to my car.

“You’re car still has that ‘brand new’ smell.” She sucks in another whiff once we’re settled in.

“That’s because I’m never home to drive it,” I admit, inwardly cringing at my inability to omit certain truths. I don’t understand it; I can do it in the boardroom or in the middle of negotiations but I can never do it with family.

“Oh,” she sighs.

“Ceese . . .” I glance over at her as we head down the street. “This upcoming trip is so that I can change all of that. Mitch and I made the decision that it was time to hand over the reins for most of the overseas trips. We’re both ready to settle down and have a life.” I try to explain.

“It’s good to see you two taking the plunge; you’re a cute couple.”

“Haha, very funny,” I retort. She snickers.

“You know . . . when . . .” she starts and stops, hesitating.

“What?” I try to push her along as I reach up and turn my defrost on. There’s a chill in the air tonight, causing my windows to fog up. I notice CiCi fidgeting with her fingers. I gently grab her hand and lace fingers with her before pulling it up to my lips. I plant several light kisses on the back of her hand. “Go on,” I encourage.

“When Mitch went away . . . in the beginning, he and Charley almost didn’t survive it,” she finally spits out.

“First, those were different circumstances. You know the demon Mitch was battling. Christ, Ceese, I worked ten years with the man and never knew that part of his past till Charley came along.” I shake my head; I still find that unbelievable. “Second, that won’t happen to us. Please don’t try to burden us with other people’s obstacles.” I say sternly but with a softness in my voice, trying to avoid an argument.

“Well, what do you mean by that?”

“I mean, we are us. We are not Mitch and Charlotte. We do not have the same situations as they do; we’re not coming into this relationship with their baggage. Don’t make
us
about
them.
”

“I’m not so sure there should be an ‘us,’” she says cautiously. It seems to me that she’s trying to get a few things off of her chest without leading into an argument, as well. Considering that possibility, I try to take in some calming breaths before I react.

“Why is that?”

Radio silence.

“I’m not him. Don’t punish me for what he did to you,” I say, remaining calm.

“It’s just . . . I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this. My life has my head spinning right now; I’m all over the place,” she barrels out, noticeably avoiding the issue I brought up. I know that’s our main issue. I also know that I can’t force her to let me help her with it. It’s something
she
needs to work through herself. All I can do is stand by her side, being supportive and patient, as much as she needs me to be.

“You’re feeling things and it’s scaring you, right?” Before I let her answer, “I’m going through the same thing, Ceese. It doesn’t mean we have to rush in to putting a label on it. I think that’s where so many people go wrong. Why can’t we just explore these feelings and see where they lead us.”

“You say that, and I could agree to it, but you were in there, just as bad as they were, talking about marriage and stuff,” she huffs. I can’t help but chuckle at her dramatics. “Why is that so funny?”

“You’re funny.” I glance over again and give her one of my famous smirks. She pulls her hand from me, crosses her arms over her chest, and looks out the window almost in defiance. “Look at this.” I pull into my driveway and point to my house.

“It’s nice.” She shrugs.

“It is. You know what it isn’t?”

“What?”

“Vegas.” I quip. “There’s no Elvis inside, trying to marry us off.” I tease. “It was just talk. Just a funny little conversation built around a ‘what if.’ Nobody threw a ball and chain on your leg. Stop making a mountain out of a molehill.”

“It’s what they expect. They are expecting us to have that ‘Happily Ever After’ ending.”

“Of course they do. I’m their son. They want me to be happy and when they see that I’m with somebody that makes me feel that way, they’re going to push. But, let’s not think this is all about me; they want grandkids and I’m the only one who’s able to give them that.”

“Kids?” She turns to me with that wide-eyed, panicked look she wore so nicely at the dinner table.

“Yeah, we should get inside and get started on that.” I wink. She whacks my shoulder. “You are going to drive yourself—both of us, actually—crazy. Nobody’s looking to slap labels on harder than you, and I think that’s so you can stamp it simultaneously with:
Denied!
”

She scoffs.

I wait.

“Well, that’s it, then.
We
shouldn’t be an
us,
” she states as if the problem is solved.

“You know what? Here’s what we’re going to do.” I start. I’m pretty much done with the patience thing at this point. “You are going to stay with me until I leave for Spain. We are going to act like a new couple, like we should, and not let this conversation hang over our head. When I go to Spain, for however long I will be there, you will take that time to decide if you want to be in this with me. When I come back, I expect your decision.” I unbuckle. “The thing is this, CiCi, we have been playing cat and mouse for a few months now, and I’m pretty much done. You’re either in this or you’re not. As much as I want to be in a relationship with you, I need to think of protecting myself, too. There is an expiration date on how long you can string someone along and mine is just about met. What do you say?” I cut off the engine and turn to her.