Mad Addiction (Crazy Beautiful #2) (18 page)

She nods under my sincere stare, but sticks out her bottom lip in a sad pout. I want to kiss it—kiss all her pain away—but don’t. Yeah, as if life was that fucking simple.

“Come on,” I reach behind her to pull open the passenger door. I quickly adjust the seat so it’s pushed all the way back and reach over to put my keys in the ignition, starting the radio. Then I climb in, pulling Kelley to sit between my legs. It’s a little cramped so I have to wrap my arms around her midsection. She lays her head back on my chest as the lights go out and the movie’s opening scene flashes on the screen. I feel her relax into my arms as we get sucked into a world of pirates, princesses, and true love.

It’s entertaining enough, but what a bunch of garbage.

Kelley

Twenty-four Weeks

“C
rap.”

I slam my phone down on the kitchen counter and mutter a few more choice curse words, startling Ryan who looks at me questioningly.

“My parents are coming.”

He looks like he’s ready to burst out laughing, but my death stare has him keeping his shit together. He smartly opts to try and comfort me. “You met my mother, remember? Nothing could be worse than that experience.”

I lean on the stool next to him, facing the opposite direction. He instinctively rubs small circles on my lower back. “You don’t get it, Ry. Your mom might be a bitch, but my parents are nice. Like,
too
nice. It’s awful.”

“Wow, nice parents. Yeah, I can see how that must be fucking terrible.”

Sarcastic bastard.
“It is!” I glare at him over my shoulder before dropping my head. I want to be mad at him for making fun of me but his hands are massaging all the right spots on my aching back. I have to stifle a moan. I swivel around to face him, needing to focus on how best to explain Lila and Hal Brooks.

“You know how your mom ignored you growing up?” He nods, his jaw tensing like it always does at the mention of his mother. “My parents were the polar opposite. They believed in ‘hands on’ parenting and got super involved in every aspect of my life. That was fine when I was three, but as I got older it was terrible. They’re so disgustingly open sometimes it’s embarrassing.”

He still doesn’t look convinced that this is a problem, so I know I have to give him an example. “When I was in third grade I had a friend over and my mom started asking us about which boys in class we thought were cute, which turned into a mortifying hour long conversation about sex, complete with a visual demonstration using some of my dolls. My dad overheard and they started debating which positions were best ‘for her pleasure.’ We were fucking eight years old, Ryan!” I shudder at the memory. Needless to say that friend was never allowed back at my house after that. No wonder I moved two hours away from them . . .

Ryan looks like he’s about to burst. “Is that why you waited so long to give it up?” He attempts to contain his laughter, but can’t.

I lightly shove his arm. “Ha. Ha. Very funny.” I knew I’d regret telling him the truth about my pathetic sex life.

I get up to leave but he grabs my arm. “Come on, Brooks. You have to admit it’s pretty ironic. I grew up without any sort of openness or affection and turned into a man-whore while you were smothered with it and basically strapped on a fucking chastity belt.” He tries to catch his breath in between chuckles.

“Yeah, fucking hilarious,” I reply dryly. I fail to see why my childhood humiliation is so entertaining to him.

I stalk to the bedroom and hear him call out, “Hey, maybe they can give us a few pointers when they visit.” That makes him laugh even harder.

Ok, maybe that’s a little funny. But I refuse to let him know that, so I respond by calling out, “I hate you,” before collapsing onto the bed with my arm draped over my face.

The next week I’m pacing around the apartment like some type of madwoman. My parents are due to arrive any minute. I haven’t seen them in eight months and I’m dreading what might happen when they meet Ryan. They know about the baby and the engagement, but I didn’t go into much detail. I feel bad for not always returning my mother’s phone calls, but she asks too many questions. Questions I’m not ready to answer.

Ryan is sitting on the couch, flipping through channels on the tv. “Brooks, if you don’t sit still you’re going to wiggle that kid right out of you.”

“Good. At least if I go into labor we’ll get out of doing this today. Might be the perfect plan.” I pace faster.

“Yeah, and I’m sure only letting the baby cook for six months is a great plan, too.” He grunts.

“Shut up.” I don’t need his sarcasm right now. I’m too busy thinking of an exit strategy.

I love my parents, I really do. And I know I’m lucky they care so much, especially after meeting Ryan’s monster of a mother. But they know me better than anyone and I’m afraid they will take one look at Ryan and me together and know it’s all a complete sham. They’ve only seen me with one man in my life—the man I thought was going to make all of my dreams come true but turned into a nightmare instead—and I really don’t want to disappoint them again. They’ve only ever wanted me to be happy, and as much as I want that for myself, I want it so they can stop worrying about me, too. Neither of my parents have any boundaries, and I can see our web of lies quickly unraveling with their prying. The worst part? I can totally see Ryan and them getting along.

A knock has me stopping dead in my tracks. When I make no move to answer it, Ryan clicks off the tv and chuckles as he makes his way past me to open the door himself.

My mother immediately wraps Ryan in a huge hug and kisses his cheeks, her red lips—that accent her medium length reddish-brown hair—leave behind a clear mark. It’s almost comical to see her short, petite stature overpowering his tall, muscular one. “You must be my handsome soon-to-be son-in-law.” She holds onto his shoulders and studies him before looking to me. “He’s just as hot as you said he was.”

Ryan gets a big shit-eating grin before my father squeezes his way in, grumbling “My turn, let me at him.” My dad, about the same build and only a few inches shorter, reaches to shake Ryan’s hand, simultaneously clapping him on the back. “Hey, son. So you’re the one that knocked up my little princess, eh. Well good to meet ya. How they hangin’?”

I have to resist a literal face-palm.

My mother comes over to me and looks like she’s about to cry when she pats my growing stomach. “Oh sweetie, I am so happy for you.” She leans in for a hug, smelling of the same Jean Nate perfume she always wears. “Your breasts are huge. Hal, aren’t they huge. Are they tender? You should try a heating pad or a warm bath.” I blush at her unfiltered, albeit sweet, concern over my boobs.

I hug my dad next, smiling when he gently taps the tip of my nose, just like he’s done my entire life. His short, salt and pepper hair looks a little lighter than I remember seeing last, but his gray eyes and round, red cheeks are the exact same—warm and welcoming. “Hey, kid. Where’s the bathroom? I’ve gotta piss like a racehorse.” I try not to wince as I point to the door down the hall.

It’s only been two seconds and, true to form, they’re already embarrassing the crap out of me.

As my mother makes herself right at home and heads to the living room, I catch Ryan looking at me with amusement.

“What?” I cringe, feeling self-conscious as to how crazy he must think my parents are . . . and me by association.

Thankfully he laughs as he drapes his arm around me and leads us to the couch. “I like them. Now I see where you get your bluntness from.” A playful spark lights up his eyes, making me feel a tiny bit of relief.

After my father returns from the bathroom we all sit on the couch and catch up.

My mother wastes no time turning to Ryan. “So, tell me . . . what exactly is wrong with you?”

Ryan looks completely caught off guard. “Wrong with me?”

“Are you married?”

Ryan looks uncertainly at me as sweat forms on his brow. “Huh?”

“Do you have any weird fetishes? Are you a drug addict? A criminal? Secretly gay?”

I’ve never seen Ryan look so completely baffled and nervous. “No . . . Wait, what? No!”

My mom laughs lightly and slaps him playfully on the knee. “Aww calm down, sweetie. I’m just trying to figure out why on earth my daughter felt the need to keep you such a secret for so long. She never mentioned you and then all of a sudden, wham!, you’re engaged and having a baby.” She holds her hands up in front of her, palms facing out. “I’m not judging, just curious.”

Ryan visibly relaxes while I cut in. “Mom, I told you. We knew each other for a while, as friends, and then things between us just grew pretty fast.”

I smile at Ryan, trying to convey a silent apology for this entire thing. He smiles back sympathetically before jumping in. “Yeah, Mrs. Brooks. I’m afraid a lot of that’s my fault. After getting to know Kelley better I just looked at her one day and knew she was something special. It took me some time to get up the courage to let her know, and hell, sometimes I still don’t think I do a good enough job of that. I wasted too much time not showing her how much she means to me, so once we decided to give things a shot, I’ve been selfish in keeping her all to myself.”

I know he’s just saying all of this to keep up with our story, but his eyes never leave mine as he says it, causing my heart to beat faster.

My mom’s sniffling breaks our trance. “Oh well if that isn’t just the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. Hal, did you hear that?”

“There she goes with the waterworks . . . that’s how you know you’ve won her over.” My dad chuckles before focusing on Ryan, shrugging easily. “As long as you make my little girl happy, you’re ok in my book, too. ”

My mom takes a deep breath. “All right, enough of this mushy stuff. Tell me, how’s my grandson doing? What about any wedding plans?” She looks excitedly between us.

“He’s good, mom. The doctor says he’s healthy and everything is on schedule.” I rub my stomach, leaning back into the couch. “And we haven’t talked much about the wedding. We’ll deal with that sometime after he’s born.” I chew my lip, hoping I come off sounding nonchalant rather than nervous.

My dad leans toward Ryan. “If you want my opinion, all of that wedding hoopla nonsense is a big load of crap.” Ryan and I both look to him, unsure where he’s going with this. “What? If you love someone and want to marry her, you should just do it. No need to waste all your time and money planning a celebration for other people. Wedding favors? What a bunch of bullshit. Why do I need to give
you
a gift for coming to celebrate
me
and the love of my life?” He shakes his head. “Nah, just elope and let it be about the two of you—the only people who matter. And I’m not just saying that since I’m supposed to foot the bill.” He winks and nudges Ryan with his elbow.

Ryan laughs. “I couldn’t agree more.”

My dad looks amused and impressed. “I knew I liked you.”

I chuckle nervously. I always pictured having a big, fairytale wedding, but since there will never be any wedding, big
or
small, it’s not worth arguing. I prefer the whole topic be dropped.

Thankfully my dad changes the subject and the rest of the afternoon is spent talking about anything but our pretend nuptials. We talk about my mom’s book club, my dad’s job as a grocery store manger, and what my aunts and uncles have been up to. Apparently
everybody
asks about me. My mom and I make dinner, and she helps me with the dishes as Ryan and my dad bond over some sports channel.