I don’t turn around. “For what?”

“Everything.”

“Which is what?”

He sighs, and I finally turn to look at him with an arched eyebrow. He needs to be specific so I know he won’t pull this shit again. His lips turn up slightly, and he settles his baseball cap on the back of the couch before leaning in.

“I’m sorry for leaving for three days. I’m sorry for not calling you back, not texting you, and for acting like it wasn’t a big deal.”

“Is that all?” It better not be all.

“Uh…is it?”

I shake my head, swivel in my seat, and take a sip of my steaming coffee.

“Um…I’m sorry for…touching your computer?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry for leaving my socks on the floor?”

“We both know you’ll do that again.”

“I’m sorry for deleting your vampire show?”

“You did what?”

His silently laughs and slides onto the couch next to me.

“I’m just tossing out shit. I don’t know what else there is—”

“You should be sorry for not being sorry last night.”

He tosses his hands in the air. “How in the hell was I supposed to figure that out?”

“Landon…” I press, and he tugs on the ends of the blanket wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me in close.

“I love you, and I’m sorry for not being sorry.” He rests his forehead against mine. “Did I pass now?”

I nod my approval. “You had me at the Hurdle List.”

“You devil woman.”

“It was very romantic.”

“Very out of character for me.”

“You’re more romantic than you think.”

Landon moves my ponytail off my shoulder as he shakes his head. It finally feels like us again, even with the engagement nearly at a close. My stomach belly-flops at the thought of the wedding being in a little over a month, but instead of getting worked up about it, I toss the blanket off. Landon’s gorgeous eyes bulge and don’t miss a beat drifting down.

“You still want our one-a-month?”

Chapter 28

Even though I proposed our cheat, Landon didn’t take me up on it. Instead he went to work and asked to cash in later. But it’s been five weeks since the naked argument, and I haven’t seen Lord Landon since. The worst part? I haven’t really noticed. Not with all the Wedding Hurdles.

Dress Hurdle…well, I finally gave up on the dress. It was enough to drive me to The Cheesecake Factory with my last ten bucks where I received a phone call from Satan my future mother-in-law to inform me that they’re coming in for Christmas.

Cue in-law Hurdle.

My mom and dad are already in New York and staying until the wedding, which means Landon and I need to stand united on the in-law warpath, but the closer the wedding date comes, the farther we drift apart, only half-murmuring “love you”s whenever we see each other. It makes me wonder if he’s just as terrified as I am that we’ll be husband and wife in less than a month.

Cue the biggest Hurdle…don’t be scared of forever being the vegetables of lovemaking. Because after we were raisin bran, we went right back to peas and carrots. It’s inevitable.

After I got off the phone with Landon’s mom, Theresa ordered me another piece of double raspberry, (enabler!), but I ended up staring at it with this weird eye twitch and so we packed it up and it’s been sitting in my fridge.

Speaking of our fridge, it was practically empty. And unless my family wants to have a box of baking soda and that teeny slice of cheesecake for Christmas dinner, I have to do something I know will piss Landon off.

I have to ask for help.

I don’t want to be a mooch. I get his mind-set when it comes to asking for help, but he has to understand where I’m coming from. All I want to do is ask Mom if she’d be willing to take some of the wedding money and put it into Christmas dinner. Landon and I have stretched the honeymoon fund to its limit. I have exactly enough for two plane tickets and a hotel for two nights. It’s not the longest honeymoon in the world, but it’s something. And if I use any more, we’ll be celebrating our marriage on our couch.

I take a deep breath before knocking on our guest room door. Mom and Dad are noisy houseguests, so I have to knock a few times before the chatter stops and Dad finally opens up.

“Oh, we weren’t expecting company,” he jokes, pretending to straighten his nonexistent hair. “Please, please, come in, but excuse the mess.”

“Is the lady of the house in? I need to discuss an important matter with her.” I play along as Dad shoves the loose underwear under the bed. I try not to cringe, opting for looking at Mom paint her nails red and green. ’Tis the season and all.

“Madam Fanning. A charming young woman requests your presence in the dining hall.” Dad gestures to the card table you can see peeking down the hallway. Mom rolls her eyes at the both of us when I curtsy, and he kisses my hand. She blows on her nails as we make our way to the “dining hall.”

“So…how much money is in the wedding budget?” No point in beating around the bush.

“Well, with the cost of your dress lowering, we have an extra few hundred. I was going to use it to cover the flowers, since Landon’s mother wasn’t too keen on helping with those.”

“You talked to Landon’s mom?” I thought Landon said he’d do it…

Mom nods, continuing to blow across her freshly painted nails. “They’ll take care of the groom’s attire.”

“So his tux.”

She nods again.

“Mom…why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want you to worry about it.”

Now I feel like utter shit. I slump my shoulders and rest my chin in my palm. So much for a Christmas dinner. It’ll be Top Ramen Thanksgiving all over again.

“What was that?” Mom asks, pausing her nail drying.

“Nothing.”

“No…Elizabeth, you said something.”

I huff out a breath and repeat the thought that must’ve escaped my mouth. “I don’t have any food for dinner tomorrow night, and Landon’s family is coming in. I was just hoping…but it’s okay. I’ll figure something out.” Bye-bye honeymoon money.

Mom plucks up my chin, being careful not to ruin her nails. “Let’s go get a turkey.”

“Mom…”

“It’s a compromise. I’ll buy, you cook.”

“I’ll probably poison everyone.”

“I’ll supervise.”

I sniff, not even realizing how hard it is to say okay until that moment. Now I really understand why Landon hates asking for help. I feel so pathetic. How am I supposed to get married if I can’t even…?

I slam my eyes shut before I finish the thought.

“Thank you, Mom.”

And I hug her before she sees a single tear escape from my eyes.

—

“Most people use frames, but this is creative and you don’t have to worry about making the place look classy.”

I force a polite smile at Mrs. Wangford as she gazes at our collage wall, and Landon moves the wine bottle away from me. He doesn’t have to worry about me getting drunk off my ass, though. My mom’s been firing the veiled insults right back at her—the comment about how Mrs. Wangford sure knows how to pull off gray hair almost had me pulling a super-mature high-five gesture. So I’ve been trying to busy myself with dinner so I don’t come off badly.

Cooking is not my strong suit, but I followed the instructions on the turkey bag, and I pulled out that gross gizzard crap before sliding it in the oven. Now, five hours later, the aroma is making me feel like the best damn cook in the world…even though I’m microwaving the corn.

Mom has taken it upon herself to make a wedding book, and currently she’s showing our very few choices for the invitations. They have to go out Monday, and after getting the pictures back from Helen the photographer, I basically handed that Hurdle to my mother because I couldn’t find one photo that satisfied me.