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.”

She smiles, taps my arm so I move from her lap, and she pulls out her tablet.

The Hurdles for Planning Your Daughter’s Wedding

I pull my feet up on the couch and cuddle closer. The first one on the list gives my heart a warm squeeze.

1. Learn to let my Lizzie go…again.

“I don’t know why I put the biggest Hurdle first.” She laughs, squeezing me into her side. “I’ll never be able to get to the other ones.”

I bite my lip and push into her hold for a second, then reach to my laptop and pull up my own Hurdle List. I meant for her to see the one about telling her about the engagement, and how nervous I was, but she points to the top one on the list and raises an amused eyebrow.

“Operation Great Sex, huh?”

“That is not the one you’re supposed to be looking at.”

She flicks a loose curl out of her eyes. “Did you convince him?”

“I did. That one was easier than I thought. It’s the…execution that’s the hard part.”

I explain to her the no-sex deal, what’s at stake, and then I’m suddenly babbling about how we’re both trying to get each other to give in. Mom’s equal parts laughing and blushing.

“That explains Mr. Risky Business.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“I have a question, though.”

“Okay.”

“Why cut yourselves off in the first place?”

“You really want to hear this?” I twist my fingers in my lap, wondering how open I should be here. Mom’ll probably have some good insight on making that part of the relationship continually hot over the course of several years. I had to block memories of banging headboards from when I was a kid.

Mom puts her tablet down next to my computer and smiles. “You can talk to me about anything. I’m sure we’ll talk about a lot more when you get pregnant and your body starts doing things you never thought it would.”

“Okay…Landon’s good at, um, satisfying me…?” Lawdy, I’m talking satisfied sex with my mother. She gives an encouraging nod, so I let my chest sort of unknot and keep going. “But, well, the night we got engaged was kind of…meh.”

“So you cut him off sex till the wedding? Seems a bit harsh.” Her shoulders shake with silent laughter. I push on her leg.

“No. It was a weird day that day. My mind was elsewhere and it would’ve taken me a long time to…anyway, I just…my wedding night…it should be perfect. So even after the long day, tired feet and tired minds, I want to be able to…I want to…”

“Orgasm?”

I put my hands over my fiery red cheeks. My mom just said orgasm.

“Was that night the first time you didn’t orgasm? Because I’d say, lucky you!”

“No…but ugh, I don’t want to make Landon sound lame, Mom.” But I find it equally mortifying to talk about what a good lover he is too.,

“I’m not going to think that. In fact, I’ll probably try not to think about it at all.”

I let out a sigh and drop my hands. “The first couple times we had sex were a little awkward, but we found out more about each other’s, you know, desires and it was wow. For a long time, wow. But then our lives got…for lack of a better word, busy. And so our hot sessions sort of morphed into…”

“Commercial break sex?”

My eyes widen. “Yes, exactly.”

“That happens to every relationship. It’s okay. When you two are together it’s still intimate and nice, right?”

I slowly nod. “I mean, it’s good between us, mainly because we know what’s what on who and what makes who go ‘OH!’ Even the times I don’t orgasm, it’s been…fun.” Just short.

“That’s good. It should always be fun.”

It is always fun. I like fun. I like when he teases me while kissing my neck. I love the smile on his face and the playful bites he gives to my shoulders. The way he always makes me laugh first, then turns those laughs into something else entirely. I miss it…but not nearly as much as something new, exciting, and for our wedding night, the first time with him as my husband, I crave something different. No…not different…more.

“I want passionate.”

“It should be that, too. You love him, right?”

I roll my eyes. “Of course.”

“Then, when it comes to making love, just…love him.” She pats my leg. “That being said, I completely understand wanting to wait. It could help bring back the spark you want.”

“You think?”

“To paraphrase, absence makes the clitoris grow fonder.”

I jolt back. “What did you just say?”

She starts laughing, making me laugh and cover my cheeks again. If my right-winged, conservative mother spouts off any more medically correct words I’m going to have to surgically hinge my jaw back on.

Then again, I’d rather hear “clitoris” than “pussy.” Let’s leave that word only in Landon’s vocabulary.

Chapter 18

NOVEMBER

It’s been three months to the day since Landon’s proposal. Mom went back to Georgia, I’ve been working like a dog, and Landon’s been editing every night when I get home. So even though it’s 9:30, we’re both immobile in our bed.

“Liz, you still awake?” Landon asks.

“Mihimiflagon.”

“Do you remember when I…when it…slipped?”

“Hrmmmh?”

“You know, that time we got a little rough and I came out and accidentally thrust back into your—”

“What in the world…?” I mumble in my half-sleep. We haven’t talked about the accidental slip since its occurrence. It hurt like hell, for one, and for two, it was embarrassing. We’d only been intimate a few times, but that time it was humphumphumphumphump, shit, ouch, holy mother of pearl, sorrysorrysorry, then we slept on polar opposites of the mattress.

“Well…” I hear him scratch something. “We were pretty cautious after that. For a while. But then we fell back into our rhythm.”

He’s right. It was probably two months of slow hump…hump…hump. But it’s the dead of night, and I actually want to sleep and not toss and turn with thought of any humping.