Aaron suggested, without having any idea of what I was writing: "And then they fucked. The end."
I didn't go with that one, though I appreciate the support. Thanks Aaron.
Anyhow, enjoy a little Grey.
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“Mrs. Delaney?” Grey said, his hand waiting for hers. He watched the effect of the mocking pet-name knock her back, the way it always did, watched her blush all over, but she was quick to compose her features and she crossed to him. He kept his eyes on her as she placed her hand in his, had to make a real effort not to roll his eyes at his mother’s girlish sighs and coos behind him, and then noticed his bride’s free hand go unconsciously to her abdomen.
Grey’d watched her do this often over the course of their honeymoon. He’d wondered if it was in reaction to something moving, or if it was just some genetic tic that women developed when they became pregnant. Or, more likely, when they became aware that they were pregnant.
Because she wasn’t really showing, not yet. Thank Christ. There certainly wasn’t any shelf to rest her hands upon or roundness to stroke. He could sense that she felt uncomfortable with her body, but no matter how hard he looked he couldn’t detect much of a change. And he had looked. A lot.
For him it didn’t even feel real yet.
He was grateful that his mother was thick in the middle of some romantic tangent or other and hadn’t seemed to notice the maternal indicator. He raised an eyebrow at Maggie, then flicked his eyes to her hand pointedly.
She got it. The hand flew off her stomach and occupied itself with her other default fidget: playing with that fucking saint medallion.
She was nervous. He caught himself feeling sorry for her for half a minute before forcing himself to remember that it was Maggie that was fucking him over here, and not the other way around. He just hoped she wasn’t so nervous that she’d clam up, or worse, break into tears or something and crack under the pressure.
He didn’t want his mother, or anyone really, but especially his mother, knowing that he’d been dragged by the balls into this marriage.
Of course, after the way he’d behaved the night before, he was no longer sure he had any right to self righteous indignation. No matter what she said, no matter what little jokes she made to catch him off guard and make him smile, he still wasn’t comfortable with how he’d behaved. Wasn’t proud of it. And sort of felt like he fucking owed her something. Goddammit.
She nodded to him and he nodded back.
It was time. Time to get this fucking charade started.
He clenched his jaw, exhaled, took a deep breath, and smiled his best smile before pushing open the door to the dining room.
And there they all were. Fucking every one of them. Standing around chatting, picking at some unnecessary hors d’oevres and waiting for him. And his guest.
He scanned the room until he locked eyes with Viola, who was lounging casually on the large window seat. She grinned wickedly. So she knew already. Terrific. Of all the people in that room, Viola was the only one he cared about telling in person—besides his mother of course.
Grey winked at her and she rose from the window seat and crossed to stand by Jonah. She was shaking her head slightly and giving him an expression that seemed to say: “You are fucking out-of your-mind-and-I-can’t-wait-to-hear-about-this-one.”
Grey took one last look around at the faces of his family and it was clear to him that his surprise announcement would be a surprise to none of them. Not even to fucking Ben Sinclair. Christ almighty, he loved his mother but the woman could not seem to keep her mouth shut when she got excited about something. And she was bananas about this elopement business.
“Hello family.” He said, a facetious undertone coloring his wholesome formality.
They were all looking at him expectantly, polite little smiles on their faces as they tried not to be obvious in their curiosity. And they were all trying not to be caught openly sizing-up Maggie. He heard a few “hellos” back and a couple “hi Grey’s”, and Jonah also gave a personalized hello to Maggie, though Grey noted the man stayed rooted to his spot not too far from the window.
And Grey realized he felt a little adrift. Jonah always made the announcements in the family. When someone had big news it was always Jonah who’s stand and deliver it, to Jonah that all eyes usually turned for the official word on things.
But now the man hung back. It wasn’t his place. Grey realized with a feeling almost like the lift and heavy drop of a free-fall, that he’d somehow crossed a threshold in Jonah’s eyes, had finally and permanently become not only an adult, but his own man and, Grey swallowed hard, the head of his own family.
He couldn’t help the sneer that stole across his features for a moment. Jonah was such a fucking sap. Goddamit. He made Grey so motherfucking furious. Suddenly, because he’d knocked a girl up and been forced to marry her, somehow that made him a man in Jonah’s book? What an asshole.
He was glaring at Jonah, who was receiving the glare with a perfectly mild expression of polite patience when he felt a small pressure on his hand. He glanced down. Maggie. It was one thing for him to make all of them wait, leave all of them hanging while he brooded, but the minute that had passed since the round of hellos had dwindled into silence must have seemed a painfully awkward eternity to the girl.
“I’d like to introduce you to Maggie,” He said, and everyone stared, the air taut with the collective held-breath. Better to get it the fuck over with, right? “My wife.” He finished.
When he’d done the same thing to his mother, after they’d come from City Hall, it had produced a very pleasing sort of stop-you-dead effect. Very dramatic. Very satisfying.
This time? They’d all known already, and instead of him having a little fun at their expense, they were having some at his. They’d been waiting to see how he’d do it, how he’d look when he said it, how he’d sound. Because knowing it and understanding it are two very different things, and Grey suspected most of them were having a great deal of trouble adding up how Grey had ever come to have a plain gold band around his left ring finger.
After a small moment of stillness during which he reflexively squeezed Maggie’s hand, and found he didn’t mind the feeling of it there in his, after that breath of a moment, the dining room erupted in exclamations and congratulations and questions, and his sisters were rushing to introduce themselves to his bride, and there was a great deal of kissing and hugging, and Grey found himself repeating the same things over and over. “Last Monday.” “City Hall.” “To the resort upstate.” “Um, yeah we met last fall.” “Ramirez.”
At some point they’d stopped holding hands and Maggie was maneuvered by his mother over toward a platter of appetizers that Velvet insisted the girl would ‘absolutely adore’, and Grey was shaking hands with Ben.
“Congratulations.” Ben said genially. Ben was a genial sort of fellow. A nice fucking guy. Grey couldn’t stand the kid. They were the same age, had been on the same recreational sport teams together since t-ball, had been cub scouts together, had played flashlight tag every summer growing up because their families were close. And he couldn’t really remember a time when they’d ever been good friends. Despite the best efforts of their folks—who’d thrown them together at every possible opportunity and sort of expected them to be pals. Ben was the kind of kid who’d always ruin plans for an epic practical joke by threatening to tattle. ‘Someone might get hurt’ he’d whine, or ‘that’s illegal!’ Fucking Pussy.
“Thanks, Ben.” Grey said with a snide smile. He remembered what a dick he’d been to the kid when Ben and Avalon had announced their engagement at a very similar family dinner event to this one.
“She seems great.” Ben added, making an effort.
Grey knew Ben couldn’t much stand him either. It was a mutual distaste. No doubt Ben found Grey’s lifestyle repugnant and ungentlemanly or some shit. What the fuck ever. ‘Enjoy being pussy whipped by that bitch sister of mine pal’ Grey thought to himself spitefully.
“She’s a peach.” Grey responded, bordering on sarcasm.
Ben’s mouth twitched and he huffed air out through his nose, and Grey got the feeling that the fuckhead was trying not to laugh. “I’m sure you two will be very happy.” He managed, then cleared his throat and lifted his drink to his lips quickly, but not quick enough to hide a smug grin.
Fuck you. Grey’s smile turned feral and he was on the verge of saying something very ungenerous about Ben and Avalon when the clear, attention-grabbing ding-ding-ding of silverware on crystal brought the room to order.
“Just a quick toast!” His mother sang, as Jonah lifted the champagne from the bucket. With the assured ease of a man well used to the duty Jonah toweled off the bottle and began to peel the foil from the tip.
Grey’s eyes found Maggie’s across the room and they shared a small smile. More Champagne. They’d been absolutely inundated with the shit. He didn’t care for the stuff and his new wife couldn’t enjoy it either at present.
Grey watched his dad’s fingers twist the wire cage, loosening it and then removing it altogether. Jonah had his thumb on the cork when he paused. “Grey?”
He was asking if Grey’d like to do the honors. The look on his mother’s face was priceless. How could he decline with a face like that mooning at him?
“Sure.” He said, moving toward his Dad with all the arrogant grace he possessed. But his knees were doing something funny. He pushed his shoulders down and received the chilled bottle with a nod. He was very discontented to see his hands shaking a bit. He hadn’t eaten all day. Hadn’t had breakfast, as he’d woken up in bed with Maggie, with the worst hangover and the worst guilty conscience of his life.
That must be it.
He focused on the task. “Ready?” He asked with a smile, eliciting a few appreciative chuckles. “I feel like you all ought to have on protective eyewear.” He muttered and pressed upward and outward with his thumb while spinning the bottle gently. His uncle had taught him how to properly open a bottle once, but he wasn’t sure he remembered the finer points of it.
God knew he’d botched the job last night, made a huge fucking mess of it and broken a lamp while he was at it. Of course last night he’d been shitfaced.
She’d tried to help him. Even though he’d come in like an asshole, woken her up at something like three in the morning, too far gone to be able to get the keycard to work. He’d pounded on the door like a total goddamn mental patient. And when she’d opened the door, concern all over her adorable face, he’d made some snide comment or other and swaggered into the room like he owned it.
Oh, Christ, had he made some crack about her being ‘the help’? Some insult about her being his servant because she’s Mexican? He felt hot around the collar thinking about it.
And then he’d gone to the fridge in their suite and took it upon himself to hold a celebration in honor of their nuptials. But he’d had an enormous struggle with the foil and become quite irate. She’d come over and helped him with the foil and the cage. She’d even fetched the champagne glasses that had been waiting for them upon their arrival.
‘You have to spin it—‘ She’d tried to tell him but it was too late—He’d muscled the cork out like an idiot and it shot across the room, hit a very expensive lamp, and about half the wine had been wasted on the floor and down his front.
He’d laughed uproariously and she’d gotten down on her hands and knees to sop up the mess. Had he slapped her ass? Fuck.
Presently Grey increased the pressure of his thumb just enough to push it the rest of the way and the sound of a soft, clean popping told him he’d managed to do it without fucking it up. He Held up the cork with a grin, to much adulation and applause, but in truth he felt the method of doing it properly lacked the impact of the reckless pop and gush you see in movies.
When he’d poured eight glasses and then one for himself the room settled down again. Shit. Was he expected to make the fucking toast too? He looked to his Dad, who smiled sympathetically.
“To Maggie—“ Jonah said, raising his glass, and the family followed suit. “We want to welcome you with open arms and open hearts into our family.” Grey clenched his jaw. “To Mr. and Mrs. Grey Delaney.” Jonah finished simply. He’d already made his toast at The Riv a week earlier.
Glasses clinked, cheers were extended and Champagne sipped. Grey was so fucking sick of this already and there was an entire evening to get through.
“What the fuck?!” A voice whispered with a giggle into his ear. He turned to see a mischievous light in his little sister’s purple eyes and he smirked.
“Yup.” He answered and opened his arms for a hug.
“This is some crazy bullshit.” She said, keeping her voice low and laughing softly. Her hug was hasty but hearty.
“What can I say? I lost my heart.” He said wryly and she snorted.
Grey’s eyes cast around the room to make sure no one else was eavesdropping. “I wanted to tell you—sorry someone spilled it before I got the chance.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “You almost got the chance.” She said and sipped some more champagne. “I only found out, like, a half hour before you got here.” She finished her wine and pulled his from his fingers. “You don’t want it.” She said when he raised an eyebrow at the petty theft.
He shrugged. No, he did not want it. He’d be happy if he never had to drink the shit again.
“Mum acts like she married the girl for Christ’s sake.” Viola remarked with a sneer.
Grey flicked his eyes over to where his mother was gushing at Maggie with the twins. Ben was talking to Jonah and Avalon was sulking somewhere between the two groups.
“Yeah, she likes her.” Grey responded blandly.
“How about Dad?” Viola asked, and Grey thought she sounded a little wound-up.
“She’s going to school to be a fucking elementary school teacher—“ Grey said with a meaningful eyeroll at his younger sister, “—so of course he’s pissing all over himself about her.”
Viola laughed a little maniacally. “Well look out, she looks like his type.” Viola said with a flinty edge. “Pretty and petite and sweet as pecan pie.”
Grey narrowed his eyes. He wondered if Viola had found out something more about that weekend their mother had been upstate. “You know something I don’t know?” He whispered, trying to sound casually intrigued but feeling a sharpness he couldn’t quite manage to conceal. “Is Dad fucking around?”
“How old is she?” Said Viola, pointedly ignoring his questions.
“Eighteen.”
“Why did you do it?”
Grey sighed and reached for the wine to refill his now-empty champagne flute in Viola’s hand. He loved his littlest sister but he wasn’t quite ready to drop that particular bomb just yet. “I guess I’m a sucker for a juicy pair of tits.” He said evasively. If she knew anything about her Dad she wasn’t talking. She was his favorite and she had always been pretty fierce in defending him. Like he always was with their Mom.
Viola chuckled. “Fine.” She winked at him. “But I expect the whole story sometime soon.” Then she moved off, grabbing a mushroom turnover from a tray and heading toward where Maggie was flanked by the twins and seeming to struggle to answer their rapid stream of questions fast enough.
His mother scooted by him with an empty tray and disappeared into the kitchen, but not before squeezing his arm with a little squeaky noise and a grin that threatened to split her face open.
“You two settling in Ok?” Jonah asked, walking toward Grey, looking strained and tight.
Grey grunted.
“You treating her well?” He asked very quietly, sitting gingerly on the edge of the dining room table and searching Grey’s face.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Grey hissed, wishing he had something in his hands, but Viola’d taken his drink. Instead He folded his arms across his chest to hide the tension in his hands.
Jonah shook his head slightly and tossed a glance around. This wasn’t the time or place for a discussion like the one he evidently felt he needed to have with his son. “All this isn’t any easier on her, Son.” Jonah sighed heavily.
Grey scoffed. Jonah didn’t know about the ball-cinching pre-nup he’d signed. Or how devious the woman had been in wrangling him into this ‘arrangement’.
“In fact—“ The older man continued, “Probably much more difficult for her—“
Grey leaned in very close to his father. “Stop.” He told him, “You don’t have the right anymore. I am so fucking done with your lectures, do you understand me?”
Jonah nodded and finished the rest of his Champagne as Grey straightened up. “When do you plan on revealing the rest of the news?” He asked civilly, thought Grey knew the man well enough to recognize that the fucker was livid.
“Not tonight.” Grey retorted, and waltzed to the far side of the dining room to where Maggie was cornered.
“Hey ladies, let’s give her some breathing room.” He joked lightly, parting the enthusiastic twins and holding out his hand again to Maggie. He’d never brought a girl home to meet the family and he was more than a little unsure of what he should be doing.
Maggie took his hand and came to stand at his side. Vienna whipped her cellphone out of her pocket and snapped a picture before he was ready. He groaned. “Delete it Vee.” He said, and she laughed.
“Only if you pose for another.” His sister bargained.
He looked down at the short, curly haired beauty beside him and she looked up at him with her wide brown eyes. He’d never once posed for a picture with this woman. How peculiar.
“Sure.” He said, still staring at Maggie’s upturned face.
“I might need a box to stand on.” She said, her face deadpan.
His lips quirked, and he turned back to Vienna, only to find that now Genny and Vi also had their phones out and ready to capture the shot. Great.
He released her hand in order to slide his arm around her and pulled her by her upper waist toward him. When the soft curve of her body was lightly pressed against the hard plane of his he smiled his very practiced smile at Vee’s phone, the center of the three. “Smile Mrs. Delaney.” He said in a mocking undertone just for her.
He felt her shiver against him and expected she’d be blushing in the pic.
With a melty ‘awwwww!’ behind him his mother tapped enthusiastically on a crystal champagne flute. Another speech? Jesus. Grey turned expectantly but then Ben Sinclair joined, grabbing a fork from the table and tapping his glass as well. Soon the twins added their own forks and glasses to the delicate cacophony and even Viola joined in with a mischievous giggle.
Grey looked at Jonah, only he and Avalon hadn’t jumped to join the clatter. What the fuck was this?
Jonah gently pulled a beaming Velvet toward him and turned her head, placing a sweet kiss on her lips and smiling at her. She grinned back, a little surprised, but very pleased, and then turned her eyes expectantly back to where Grey still stood with arm around Maggie.
Oh shit. This fucking thing. Jonah’s hint reminded him of some of the wedding’s he’d been to in years past. He was expected to kiss Maggie at their command. He remembered Marty Bennett’s second wedding, where people’s kept doing this little trick and the guy and his perky Asian bride had responded promptly every time, like Pavlov’s fucking dogs. Grey remembered thinking the guy was a schmuck for dancing to the demands of the wedding guests, most of whom were dinging the chime because they had half-a-stack for cute little Asian chicks, and not for some romantic delusion of love and joy.
Grey quickly licked his lips and turned to Maggie, who appeared puzzled and maybe slightly alarmed. He wondered if they did this little trick at Mexican wedding celebrations. It seemed like a really WASPy thing to do.
If he did it he’d feel like a cunt. But if he didn’t it would raise all kinds of suspicions, and his mother wouldn’t let it go, and there’d be questions, and maybe it would embarrass Maggie, and fuck it.
With the hand already around her waist he pressed with a slight pressure and pulled her around a little, a command she recognized and obeyed seemingly without thinking. Then he used his free hand to gently turn and lift her face to his. She resisted only in as much as she seemed slightly transfixed by the peculiar impromptu musical performance his family had just devolved into.
When she finally dragged her eyes off the bizarre sight and met his eyes, her expression was a question, her wide chocolate eyes eloquent, asking him to help. Christ. If she blushed when all he did was call her ‘Mrs. Delaney’, he wondered what this was going to do to her.
With a half-smile he dipped his face to hers and captured her lower lip between his. He was gentle enough to avoid startling her, but firm enough to indicate she needed to allow it.
The room ceased their incessant ding-ing and there were cheers and applause and ‘ooh’ing and ‘aah’-ing.
Her lips tasted a bit like vanilla, and she smelled delectable. He broke the kiss a little more abruptly than he’d planned, startled by the warmth spreading through him, stemming from where her lips met his. He covered how rattled he felt with a deep, charming smile and turned to the rest of the family, in order to avoid her shocked and mortified expression.
“Once is all you get, so don’t even think of pulling that stunt again.” He warned them with a laugh.
His mother laughed appreciatively before announcing dinner was ready and setting the room to motion.
As he walked Maggie around the table to her seat he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Sorry about that—it had to be done.”
Her brow crinkled as he at last released her waist and pulled a chair out for her. “Allow me, Mrs. Delaney.” He added, with a wink and a playful tone.
He watched her tense, but then she threw her curls behind her shoulder and gifted him with a wide, dazzling smile. “There you go again,” she murmured in a voice only he could hear, “Apologizing when there’s no need.”
His own smile faltered as hers deepened and she moved in front of the chair.
Who the fuck was this girl? Grey wasn’t sure, exactly, but he was confident of one thing: he no longer worried that she’d crack under the pressure and burst into tears. She may have been a good Catholic girl, but she was also apparently a pretty good little con artist.
He pushed her chair in beneath her, feeling less than sure-footed and wanting a stiff drink very badly.
He licked his lips and tasted her vanilla lip gloss again. Mrs. Grey Delaney. What the fuck universe had he walked himself into?
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