"Well, if he's anything like his best friend, I say his chances are pretty good."
I laugh and put the key in the door. Alec and Landon are similar, yet so different. Alec's quieter, but get him with the guys and he comes out of his shell. Whereas Landon is kind of out there, but get him with the guys and he keeps to himself. He's not a big fan of crowds. But he is great one-on-one. Maybe I should let him take Mom out for dinner or something and I'll pretend I'm sick.
No, that'd be evil.
"Just a warning, Landon's been home a lot lately and I have no clue what the place looks like."
Surprisingly, the apartment is pretty clean. Landon's damn socks are on the floor, but at least there aren't any dishes in the sink or on the coffee table.
"That you, Tumbles?" Landon calls from the room.
"Yep!"
"Come check out the costume I got."
My mom shuts the door behind her and takes off her jacket. "Tumbles?"
"Long story," I say, setting my keys down. "Give me a second to warn him you're here?"
Her head moves, but she stops mid-nod. Eyes wide, she stares over my shoulder as booming "Old Time Rock and Roll" plays from down the hall. Landon bursts from the bedroom, landing feet apart, arm pointing straight at me. He's in nothing but a white button-down, briefs, and sunglasses. His lips sync the words for about two seconds, until he sees my mom.
He shoots upright, hands covering his crotch and red splashing all up and down his neck.
"Uh … ," he mutters, completely dumbfounded. I can feel my mom shaking with laughter.
"Mom, Landon. Landon, Mom."
Landon's jaw drops slightly. He quickly takes his sunglasses off, sort of waddles down the hall, and awkwardly reaches around me for Mom's hand.
"Well, this is just how I wanted to meet you," he jokes. I'm so embarrassed for him I want to hide my face, but Mom laughs and shakes his hand.
"Nice legs."
"Nice hands. Very soft." He pulls back with a smile. "I'm gonna go put on some pants."
His face is still red as he walks backward into the room and shuts the door. I turn to apologize to my mom, wondering who wins the parental meet and greet fail, but when I lock eyes with her, she's grinning from ear to ear.
"I like him."
Chapter 17
"What's this from?" Mom asks, taking the painted shoelace of Landon's between her fingers. She's been admiring our collage wall since Landon left for the party. He didn't want to go, but I wanted some alone time with Mom to go over wedding details.
"My engagement party."
"You dipped your shoelaces in pink paint?"
"Those are actually Landon's. Paint war. Whatever he says … I won."
She laughs and lets her fingertips trail over the pictures, movie ticket stubs, and the bowling score sheet from our first date. She pauses at one of me and Theresa backstage at the first play Landon directed. Well … assistant directed. Alec got the lead because it was a musical, but Jace probably would've snagged it if it hadn't been.
"Your hair looks really pretty in this one," she says. "Maybe we could do that for the wedding."
A hopeful smile twitches my lips. Maybe we can plan this thing without her reminding me how young I am and without any "Are you sure you aren't pregnant?" speeches.
"I was thinking we could put red flowers in it," I say. "Maybe some jewels to make it look like snowflakes?"
"That would be pretty, too." She takes one last glance at the wall before easing on the couch and patting her leg. I instantly plop my butt on the cushion and lay my head in her lap, squeezing her knee.
"Have you picked a hall?" she asks. "We want to make sure it's available for the weekend you want."
"On top of it. Put down a deposit and nearly wiped my savings clean."
"Completely clean? Or it's just not as big as you'd like it?"
I wrinkle my nose at her, and she starts stroking my hair. "I'm worried we won't have enough. I looked online and the average wedding costs are-"
"Do you think that you're paying for the entire wedding?"
"Well, yeah. I didn't want to assume … "
"Your father and I have been saving for your wedding since you were a baby. We could've used more time," she teases, tugging on my earlobe. I wiggle away from her. "But here's what I want you and Landon to worry about."
She brings up her fingers, and I know she's going into planning mode. Something I definitely picked up from her. I sit up and get ready to make a new wedding budget plan.
"Your honeymoon."
I wait for her to tick off more, but she doesn't. "And … ?"
She pulls me back to her lap with a laugh. "And nothing."
"So the hall?"
"We'll pay for the rest of it."
"The cake? The reception? The food? What about decorations? My bouquet? Invitations?"
"Yes, all of that."
I twist so I'm looking right up at her. "My … my dress?"
She tucks a blond lock behind my ear and nods.
"Mom," I say, letting my eyes fall closed. "That's so expensive. I can't let you and Dad … "
"Well, we're hoping Landon's family will take care of the flowers and tuxes. Do you think they're in a position to help out?"
What did she just ask? I'm temporarily thoughtless as warmth cocoons me in a sense of relief and love and such overwhelming gratitude that I'm left completely speechless. I'm trying to think, trying to figure out what else there is that I need to save up for. Theresa is paying for her dress. Landon's already paid off the ring on my hand-he piggy-banked that cash for a year without me knowing. Kudos for him being able to keep that a secret-and now the hall, the reception … all of it … how can my parents take care of all of it?
"Lizzie?"
"This isn't going to bankrupt you, is it?"
She laughs. "No. We're doing this sensibly, okay? I need you to be mindful of our budget. You won't get everything on that Pinterest board of yours, and we can't buy everything for you on New York's prices, but I promise we'll make this a good day for you and Lando-oof!"
My arms swing around Mom's shoulders, and I know I'm squeezing too hard, but I can't stop myself. The reality of Landon's cut-back hours, my minimum-wage job, our overworking and paycheck-to-paycheck way of living hits me hard, and I realize that there is no way I could've afforded this on my own, and Mom and Dad are offering me a wedding.
There is something to be said about chanting.
"Thank you," I say, knowing the words do not do my feelings justice. Mom taps on my shoulders to get me to ease up, and when I do she lets out a long breath like the ability to breathe has finally returned.
"After your shift tomorrow we'll shop. Dresses, cakes, decorations, invitations, you name it."
"I've already found the perfect dress," I say, settling back in her lap. "I'm waiting for it to go on sale."
"You can show me tomorrow, then." She starts lazily stroking my head again. "And you never answered me."
"About what?"
"Landon's family. Do you think they're able to help out with the flowers and tuxedos?"
"Oh … um … I don't know." I drum my fingers along her knee. "I suppose I could … I could ask."
That conversation is bound to go smoothly. "Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Wangford, I know I completely ran my mouth at you, but let's let bygones be bygones and give me some money."
Mom tugs on my chin, eyebrows meeting in the middle of her forehead. And my frown that follows is completely involuntary.
"Landon's mom hates me."
Mom's brows relax and she pinches my lip. "Of course she does. That's what mother-in-laws do."
"So you hate Landon? Peachy."
She chuckles, smoothing my lengthy blond hair. "Why do you think she hates you?"
"I drank too much wine and I don't know what I said to her, but it pissed her off enough to basically kick us out the next morning."
"Oh, Lizzie … "
"First impressions are not my forte."
"Something you and Landon have in common?"
She gets a snort out of me. "One of many things."
"What else?"
"We're both pretty competitive."
"You found someone to butt heads with." She pinches my nose. "Just what you need."
"We like the theater. Broadway would be our weekly date if it weren't so expensive. We're both Leos. He has a great work ethic. He can't cook, but he can sure order a mean takeout. We both have tattoos we're not very proud of. Our favorite TV shows are The Walking Dead, The Big Bang Theory, and Survivor. He's well-rounded, exciting, fun … And, of course, we're both hilarious."
I twist around since Mom's stopped her soothing strokes. There's a slight glisten in her eyes.
"You have a tattoo? New York Lizzie is different from Georgia Lizzie."
"Not really. I'm still picky about my vegetables. I still keep everything in Rubbermaid bins, my toes are always painted, and I have a Hurdle List for every life-changing event."