Wyatt-1(Lane Brothers, Book 1)(185)

I kiss him just to shut him up and smile softly.

“Shut up, Greg, you’re gonna ruin it,” I whisper, swinging the door open and pulling him in to the deafening roar and bright lights as everyone yells, “Surprise!”

The look on his face is priceless, something I’ll carry with me for as long as I live ,and the feeling is so overwhelming I feel myself tear up.

“Happy birthday, Greg,” I whisper, laughing when he swings me up into his arms and kisses me through the huge grin splitting his lips.

We’re all laughing by the time he releases me, and I feel it then, that magical something I’ve been searching for since we got married. Who needs the words when I feel so… His eyes tell me what he feels, even if he can’t bring himself to admit it.

“You sneaky woman.”

I want to spend the night basking in this glow, the shining brilliance that is him at this moment, but we’re inundated by guests, and when I look up from hugs and greetings he’s been swallowed up by the mob.

“You rock,” Chris grins, smooching my cheek loudly.

“Yeah, she really does. This is great! You should see the backyard. It’s lit up like the Fourth of July, and… How the heck did you get that band?” Lena demands.

“My mother-in-law helped.”

“Yikes.”

I totally agree, but can’t say so when Patricia herself comes barrelling my way, her blonde hair coifed and shining in the lights, her mouth so pinched I worry for the health of her lips.

Lena and Chris scatter — the traitors — and I’m left alone as the dragon approaches.

“This is so…”

I cringe and bite my tongue so hard I taste blood. Do not be rude to her, Han. She pushed your husband out of her vagina, so you have to be nice.

“Thank you, Hannah. You’ve made my son very happy.”

It’s so surprising I feel my mouth flapping as I search for words. This is a first. I’d assumed I’d only get a compliment after the first four or five grandbabies.

Looks like I can stop praying for the state of my vagina.

“Thank you, Patricia. You were a great help and…I want you to know that I understand why you hate me, it’s just—”

“I don’t hate you, dear,” she says quietly, stopping my speech with a hand at my wrist.

I feel bubbly for all of five seconds before she hits me with a roundhouse.

“I just don’t like you. Now, be a good hostess and make sure the caterers are doing their jobs.”

With that parting shot I’m left alone to see her perfect head bobbing along through the crowd after the birthday boy.

“Well, that wasn’t the most terrible thing she could have said.”

I turn and roll my eyes at Flick and Flack as they melt out from behind the corner.

“Tell that to my ego,” I snort. “Where’s Nana? Greg will want to say hi.”

“She went on a date with one of those guys from the last home she was in, a Mr Licks, I believe she called him. Don’t worry, Josey’s chaperoning. And don’t get all twisted up, she said she’s not into ‘young people parties.’”

I stopped listening the minute she said “Licks,” and it takes me two glasses of wine and a canapé to stop speculating about the name. And the wrinkled old man who comes along with it.

Ew.

Two hours later the party is really going strong. I’m already exhausted just running around after the caterer and her staff, and I can’t imagine another two hours of this.

Thank God tomorrow’s Saturday.

“Well hello there, darlin’, care to dance?” I hear.

I turn with a smile to see Greg strolling toward me where I’m sitting in a small alcove off the patio, just trying to catch my breath and rest my aching feet.

We’re both still dressed for work, and my shoes are killing me.

“Not a chance, birthday boy, my feet feel like minced meat. How about sharing that glass of water you’re drinking?”

He sits at the opposite end of the bench and hands me the glass, pulling my bare feet up and onto his lap. When he starts rubbing, I know exactly why I married the man. He’s perfect.

“God, that feels wonderful. Remind me never to wear heels to a party where other people are getting wasted. It’s like putting your feet on a train track and inviting the bastard to have a go.”

“You’re a sneaky woman, Mrs Lucas,” he murmurs, and I crack an eyelid to give him a smug smile.

“You made it really hard, Greg. It’s been almost impossible to plan and get everyone on board with you dogging me so closely lately. I thought for sure you busted me the other night when Chris and Lena called. Thank God you’re a man and you think with your penis, or I would have been so busted.”