The Hustle (Irreparable #4) (32 page)

W
ho knew how fast three months could pass by when you’re trying to work, raise a family and plan a wedding. Aidan pretty much said tell him where and when and the rest is up to me, which works out great since he doesn’t care if we elope, and my parents prefer a traditional ceremony.

Telling them I was getting married to Aidan was hard enough. After all, he’s the guy that prevented me from moving home and he has a kid. That smoothed over relatively quickly compared to their reaction after they did a little reading up on the Hunter family. They spent an hour on the phone tag teaming me to talk me into calling things off. Thankfully they’ve always been parents I could talk openly with and they’ve embraced the upcoming nuptials, which are only a week away.

We drop Javier off at Liv’s apartment before we leave to the airport to pick up my parents. Tug takes a call for work in her bedroom and we sit in her living room chatting.

“Are you nervous?”

“A little,” I admit.

“Don’t be, Tug has a way with people. I’m sure your parents will love him.”

I mash my lips together, thinking for a moment. The tension in my shoulders refuses to go away. “Yeah, it’s more the location of the wedding that I’m nervous about sharing with them.”

“Why’s that?”

“My parents are traditional people.” She looks at me questioningly. “And since we aren’t getting married in a church, I’m not sure how they’ll react.”

“Ah, well, don’t worry. I’m sure Tug will charm the pants off them. By the time he’s done, they won’t care if you recite your nuptials next to a dumpster in an alley downtown with hobo Bob as your minister.” I squish my face up, visualizing the event and swear I smell old food and urine, which is typical of the alleys downtown. Liv laughs. “Oh, not that you would, but at least I was able to distract you for a second.”

“Thank you,” I say, smiling. Being distracted if only for a short while helps me to relax. Between Liv’s humor and realizing there are worse places than the spot I’ve chosen to say I do, I feel better. The moment Aidan proposed, I knew exactly where I wanted to marry him, and I haven’t shared the location with anyone, including Aidan.

“She won’t even tell me where the wedding is,” Javier chimes in. I didn’t think he was even listening. “It’s like super top secret.” He giggles.

Liv and I exchange a look and laugh. The kid’s been bursting at the seams trying to figure it out.

“You’ll know soon enough,” I say before reminding him to be good for Aunt Liv.

A short time later, we’re on our way to the airport. I’m a nervous ball of energy and staying still in my seat is impossible. There’s so much left to do and my thoughts race endlessly. But one stroke of Aidan’s thumb over my knuckles as he takes my hand soothes me.

As we approach arrivals at the terminal, I begin scanning the crowd for my parents.

“Your mom, I’m guessing,” Tug says with a humorous laugh.

I glance out the front window to see my mother waving like a lunatic, obviously recognizing the black SUV I told her to look for. “That’s Mom,” I say, slightly embarrassed by her jumping around. My father also looks mortified next to her, shaking his head. “Can we just keep driving?”

“No way, pretty girl. Meeting the parents seals the deal.”

It’s a strange feeling to introduce someone to my parents. Heartbreaker one and two were Shingle Springs’ natives. My parents knew both of them before I brought them home. I’m nervous but excited and I know they’ll love Aidan.

The moment I step onto the curb and my mother’s arms engulf me, I know I’d never get married without her. I hug my dad next before embracing Aidan’s arm. “Mom . . . Dad, this is Aidan Hunter, and Aidan these are my parents.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Miles, it’s great to finally meet you.”

My mother ignores his outstretched hand and hugs him. “Please, call me Barbara.”

It’s the first time I’ve seen Aidan blush. When she finally releases him, my father shakes Aidan’s hand and holds it in some kind of primitive standoff. “You can call me Mr. Miles.” Aidan nods, pulling his hand away. It’s oddly humorous how different they are. So much for the theory that little girls grow up to marry men like their daddy. Other than me, my blue-collar dad and my future white-collar husband have zilch in common.

After a scolding from airport security to get moving, Aidan loads my parents’ suitcases into the back of the SUV. My mother insists I sit in the back seat with her, which Aidan politely agrees to, like a good future son-in-law.

On the drive, my mother asks a million questions, going over last-minute wedding details. At this point, my list is growing, not shrinking; and I know I’ll be putting my foot down soon.

My father grills Aidan about market changes and revenue sharing and other business related things I don’t much understand. Perhaps they have more in common than I thought, because my father easily follows along and appears to be interested. By the time the conversation ends, I think my dad just hired Aidan’s company to invest my parents saving’s.

The garage at the loft is a welcomed sight and thankfully hushes my mother’s endless questions. After a drink in the front room, I show my parents around Aidan’s loft, sharing the details of the redecorating job I did for him. Aidan takes another call for work on the patio.

My parents look at me with so much pride, I feel like crying, but I smile instead. The tears come when my dad actually says the words. “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.”

They weren’t sure about my leaving home or the profession I had chosen. My dad wanted me to be an engineer and Mom hoped I would be a teacher like her. But I carved my own path and hearing their approval means the world to me.

My mother adds, “I’m still sad you didn’t move home, but I’m so happy for you. You have a good life here.”

I barely manage a thank you through my joyful tears and hurry on to show them the last room in the house, where they’ll be sleeping. I recently converted Aidan’s office to a guest room for their visit, with the exception of the pink walls Aidan refused to paint over. My father quirks a brow but doesn’t comment on the color and my mother doesn’t appear to think anything of it.

Aidan offers to take my father on a tour of the building, mostly to show him the gym, as my father works out religiously.

Once they leave, the smile stretching my mother’s entire face is a clear indicator she wants to have girl talk. I roll my eyes, shaking my head slightly. “Just say it.”

“He’s a fox! The pictures you sent don’t do him justice. Hubba hubba.”

Her eyebrows waggle and for a moment she looks like a ventriloquist doll.

My cheeks flame instantly. Aside from her showing her age with her descriptions, the last thing I want to hear is my mom talk this way. “Ew, Mom.”

“What? He’s a handsome guy.”

“Okay, I got it.”

“Oh, come on, tell me about the bedroom? Is he . . .”

“Whoa!” I wave my hands in front of me. “Stop, no way. Not going there.”

“Oh, come on. You can’t be embarrassed. You’re a grown woman and great sex is important for a healthy marriage. I just want to make sure you know that. I mean . . . You don’t want to promise forever to average, do you?”

What I want is to die of humiliation, but I figure appeasing her so we can move on is best. “Don’t worry. We’re way above average. Can we talk about something else now?”

“Yes,” she answers, sitting on the couch. Her expression is more serious now. “Tell me what kind of man he is.”

“He’s . . .” I smile. “Brilliant and unexpected. He’s complex and funny.”

“A sense of humor is good. You don’t want to promise forever to a bore either.”

Aidan is definitely not boring, I think to myself. “You know he’s fierce and loyal. He’s a good man, Mom. And he’s a terrific father.”

Pride twinkles in her blue eyes again. “Oh, yes, when do I get to meet Javier?”

“He’ll be here in a little while.”

I see a hint of worry in her expression. With everything my parents and I argued about Aidan’s past, Javier was the biggest hurdle. As traditional people, the thought of me being with a single dad was a hard pill for them to swallow. Though thankfully, they’re conscious enough that, with a little time, they were able to get out of their own way and understand Javier is a gift.

“I’m glad he has you.” It takes me a moment to realize she’s talking about Javier. I throw my arms around her to hug her tight. “You’re going to be a terrific mother.”

I wasn’t necessarily ready to be a mom, but hearing I’ll be great at it from my mother means everything to me.

L
ater that afternoon, Tori and Liv show up to bring Javier home and to go with me to the tailor’s to pick up my dress. It’s abundantly clear when we leave the guys that my father is already wrapped around Javier’s little finger.

As we walk to the tailor, I think about how very soon, I’m going to be Aidan’s wife. It’s surreal, as it seems like just yesterday I was packing up and moving home to forget I ever met him. Not that I would have been able to forget. From the moment I first laid eyes on him, I knew he was the one. I tried to deny it. He was forward in a way that felt wrong, but each time he looked at me, I turned to complete and utter mush on the inside.

I couldn’t fight him and when I finally caved, he was gone. My epic love . . . loved someone else. Someone he lost. I never thought he’d move beyond the suffering of losing Maria, but somehow he found the strength. It’s her memory that keeps him strong. That keeps all of us strong. It’s strange to think, but I hope she’s happy. And more than anything, I hope I can be the influence Maria wants me to be in Javier’s life.

“Are you okay?” my mother asks, interrupting my thoughts.

“I’m perfect,” I say with a smile. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

“Y
ou look so beautiful.” My mother weeps into her hands as I step out of the fitting room and stand in front of the full-length, three-part mirror.

I love the simplicity of the dress. The only noticeable details are the thirty satin buttons running down the back. It’s how the dress fits that truly makes me feel beautiful. As I stare at the reflection, admiring the tailor’s exceptional work, I see Liv behind me. She’s not smiling and doting in the same way as Tori and my mother. Instead she glances at her cell phone several times and to the door like she’s hoping for an excuse to leave. She probably is. Her wedding would have been last week and as we meet eyes, I feel how incredibly hard it is for her to be happy right now.

“Hey, Liv, will you do me a favor?”

“Sure, anything,” she says, standing up.

“Mom, give Liv some cash. There’s a Starbuck’s on the corner, and I could really use some coffee.”

Liv shakes off the money my mom offers. “I got it,” she says and I love the bright smile on her face. “Anyone else?”

Both Tori and my mom tell her what they would like. As she breezes by me toward the exit, I hear her whisper, “Thank you.”

After another few minutes, I change out of the dress and the clerk packs it up in a garment bag where it will remain until this time next week.

Liv returns with our coffees and we explore for a bit downtown. While my mom and Tori venture ahead, I walk with Liv. “I’m sorry I was a bummer earlier,” she says with her gaze lowered.

“Not a bummer at all.”

“Thanks for letting me off the hook.” I smile and notice my mom and Tori have stopped to watch a street performer playing the guitar.