Needless to say, every phone call and quick planning lunch with the girls has been a 007 mission, but I’ve done it, I’ve gotten every detail planned, down to the gift I’ve gotten him, and now all I have to do is get him home tonight without a glitch.
“Han, come in here for a minute.”
I look up to see him poking his head out of his office, and throttle the growl working its way up my throat. Goddammit, I’m waiting for the live band to call.
“I’ll get it,” Kim whispers as I pass her desk, and I nod thankfully, following him in only to find myself swung up into his arms and on the sofa in a blink.
“You need to eat lunch,” he mutters, and I sit up long enough to see a mountain of Chinese food.
“Good God…that’s…a lot of food.”
Chinese food.
Another thing I’ve noticed lately is his expression when I seem less than spellbound by his actions. It’s strange, but he seems to take it personally when I don’t eat everything he’s trying to feed me, or when the coffee he’s brought me has too much sugar — a gallon, I think — which I now feel chugging its way to my hips. I felt so bad, I forced myself to drink the whole thing.
“You don’t like Chinese food. Goddammit, I should have asked,” he mutters angrily, going to grab the cartons.
“Whoa, hey, wait! I — of course I like it,” I assure him, silently apologizing for the lie and grabbing the carton with a deep breath.
“See? Yum,” I say brightly, choking on a noodle that feels like sludge sliding down my throat.
We’re seriously going to have to sit down and talk about our likes and dislikes soon, because at this rate I’ll be a tub of freaking lard, and I take exception to getting that way eating things I don’t even like.
We spend lunch eating — yuck — and talking about the ‘family dinner’ we’re having for his birthday tonight.
“Now I know you and my family don’t really get along, so I’ve made reservations at Starlight. That way we can get rid of them quickly and just head home.”
Okay, Han, don’t panic, just…I am so totally panicking as I think of what the heck to do. It doesn’t escape me that this is him trying to be nice and give me an easy out on the whole Lucas family card, and it makes lying to him so much harder.
I never thought I’d say this, but I miss the old Greg, who wouldn’t have given a crap about my feelings long enough to think that planning his wedding to another woman is okay.
Shit.
“Um…uh, but Rose has gone to all that trouble with the food and planning the seating and getting the house cleaned, and I…I like your mom?”
It hurts to say it, and I feel like I’ve earned a lifetime of free passes with that one, but it does the trick.
“Yeah, you’re probably right. I just thought we could go out after and do something special…but you’re right,” he says.
I can see the disappointment in his eyes, and I feel the overwhelming need to hug him just to take it away, but the band still needs directions, and I have to call the caterer.
Plus, a small part of me really enjoys making him suffer a little. What? It’ll make the surprise so much more exciting. I hope.
“Okay, so I’ll get back to work and call Starlight to cancel. Oh, and Chris called and asked if she could sleep over, since her plumbing’s being fixed, so prepare yourself for a houseguest.”
I leave him scowling and wondering when I’ll ever say happy birthday.
God, I feel like shit.
***
I’m so excited by the time we turn onto our street I can hardly sit still, and it takes a huge does of willpower to keep me from jumping up and down with glee.
“The Marshalls must be having a party. Look at all those cars,” he says wistfully, not mentioning that the Marshalls have done me a huge favor with the parking arrangements.
I hum an agreement and scour the drive as we drive up, fiddling nervously with my phone. I’ve texted Lena just to let her know we’re close, and I thank God for Greg’s distraction on the drive, or I would have no doubt been interrogated the whole way here.
Have I said what a stalker my husband has become?
“Huh. All the lights are out. And Mom and Dad aren’t here yet.”
I give him my now customary shrug and watch his hands clench in frustration. Just a little longer, Han, just a few seconds, and then you can finally say it.
He stops at the front door, his key swinging, and turns to me, a questioning look filling his eyes, and it hits me that he’s waiting, has been waiting the whole day for me to say it.
“Darlin’, I know things haven’t been—”