Held A New Adult Romance(31)

Everglade sighed. "You done?" she said. "Wanna beat your chest a little more there, King Kong?"

I could feel the blood drain from my face. She'd promised to be nice. She'd promised not to bait him, but he always had to push. He could never leave anything alone. "Who wants pie?" I said. My voice sounded as thin as a birdcall.

Justin gave one of those humorless snorts of laughter that even then I knew meant nothing good. "What the fuck would you know," he said, looking directly at Everglade. "About honest and unpretentious?" His accent was stronger when he was angry. I knew right then that he'd worked himself into a good old-fashioned sulk, the way he often did when faced with money and privilege. He was always fond of his role as working class hero, although I'd never known him to hold down a job for more than two weeks at a time; his hair trigger was always getting him fired.

"I guess I know enough to say thank you when someone passes me the fucking potatoes," said Everglade. I could have strangled her in that moment. I thought she of all people would understand how much this dinner meant to me. To both of us. And instead she was channelling her goddamn lunatic mother.

He snorted again. "Oh, I get it," he said. "You rich little W.A.S.P. kids wanna beat me over the head with Emily Post? How many thank yous do you think my ancestors heard when your ancestors fucking stole their land and gave them all syphilis?"

Alex frowned. "You're First Nations? I thought you were Cajun?"

"He is Cajun," said Everglade. "Cajun as a goddamn catfish."

"Cajun and Cree, actually."

"Bullshit. You're about as Cree as the Queen of England's tits."

"Will you stop it?" I said. "Please? All I wanted is for everyone to have a good time. Is that so hard?"

"I dunno," said Everglade. "Ask Running Mouth over there."

Justin leapt up from the table. "That's racist!"

She glared up at him. "No, what's racist is co-opting another culture's goddamn suffering to justify why you're in a fucking snit because someone dissed a shitty book you like. Now either sit down and shut up or leave."

He got up from the table. I barely even heard Everglade calling my name; I didn't want him to go. This meant so much to him too, I knew, but that was Justin all over - always with a finger hovering over the Self Destruct button.

I found him outside, smoking a cigarette. "Why are you doing this?" I asked.

He gave me a look of utter contempt. "I'm doing what, exactly? She fucking started it - she always does. She hates me."

"She hates everyone," I said, trying to turn it into a joke. "I wouldn't take it personally. Please, Justin - come back in. We made pie. The filling isn't even canned."

Justin sighed, but there was half a lopsided smile on his lips and my heart leapt to see it. "Pie?" he said, failing to hide the laugh in his voice. I reached out for his hand and he pulled me close, my ear against his muscled chest. "So bourgeois," he said. "Fucking pie."

He laughed in despair at me and I shook as I reached up to cup his face in my hands. His kiss was slow and smoky, but I didn't care how it tasted - just as long as he still wanted me. "Let's get married," he said.

"What?"

"Let's get married. Let's do something crazy before we die, or start giving two shits about pie fillings."

I laughed, but my heart felt bigger and hotter than the sun at that moment. Really? Me? Was he serious? "We can't," I said.

"Sure we can. Drive out to Vegas. Find a drive through chapel with an Elvis impersonator."

"Justin..."

"What?" he said, his blue eyes full of love and light once more. "What's the matter, cher? Did you have your wedding day all figured out? Silver shoes and a pretty white dress? Shame on you - no room for the King of Rock n' Roll in that fantasy of yours?"

Was he nuts? It didn't matter. Maybe once I would have been pissed to abandon my childhood dreams of trailing veils and lily of the valley, but the only wedding I could ever imagine now was one where he was the groom. Somewhere in the back of my mind was a soft, sane voice, telling me that I couldn't get married - was I even legal to drink in Nevada? - but he loved me again. He wasn't mad at me any more. And that was all that mattered.

I ran back up the stairs, determined to punish him by making him wait for his answer. He chased me and I crashed through the door of my bedroom with a playful shriek, prompting Everglade to come running. She banged on the door and called my name, but Justin was already on me, fighting with the buttons of his jeans.

"Amber? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I said, trying to keep my voice normal as he entered me, roughly and without any kind of ceremony. It hurt a little - I wasn't nearly wet enough - but I loved the look on his face whenever he first pushed inside, like this look of perfect peace.