With my pants mid-thigh, my cock in hand, and my tongue on Tiel's clit, I froze.
"That corner over there is good for—Hey Tiel. What's up?"
"Hey, Riley," she said loudly. She shoved her skirt down, blanketing me in her dress. "You're home early. Very early. This isn't a normal time for you to be here, and oh—hi, hello."
"These guys are going to handle the bar," he said. "Since we're getting a couple hundred cases of beer and wine delivered, we need a place to hide it. What's, uh, what's goin' on over there?"
Tiel's foot connected with my side, and I sent a silent apology to my cock before tucking it back into my pants.
"Hey, Riley," I said as I stood and straightened Tiel's dress.
"Hey," he said slowly.
His eyes landed on the panties forgotten on the pool table, and his wide-eyed gaze snapped to mine at the exact moment I ran my hand over my glistening mouth.
Riley turned to the two burly guys beside him—one of them was choking back laughter and the other was staring at the ground, blushing—and told them, "Give me a minute with the bride and groom, would you? I'll meet you upstairs, in the kitchen."
The men lumbered up the stairs, and Riley stared at the floor while he stroked his beard.
"I cannot wait until your damn honeymoon," he said. "And when you get back, we're revisiting the rules in this house. I shouldn't be the only one who has to wear pants at all times."
"Put it on the calendar," Tiel said. "Family meeting to discuss pants."
"Done and done," I added.
"You're both too fucking chipper for me today," Riley said, shaking his head. He pointed to the ceiling. "I'm going to handle the preparations for your wedding, assuming George and Geoff aren't too traumatized."
Tiel chuckled. "I think they'll be fine."
"So if you're going upstairs," I said, "does that mean we have the room for a bit?"
Riley glowered at me. "Go right ahead," he said. "But you should know I've had sex on that table, too."
Tiel and I stared at the table while Riley's feet thundered against the stairs.
"So…” I gestured to the green felt and then shook my head. "We'll continue this conversation upstairs."
"Absolutely."
9
Sam
December
The sun wasn't yet peekingover the horizon, and as I walked through darkness, frost-covered grass crunched beneath my boots. The early morning chill bit at my face, and I had to force away the uncomfortable knowledge that nothing was safe from the cold here.
Life was easier when I wasn't confronted with death.
My arms were loaded with miniature evergreen trees and gardening supplies, but instead of stopping to set these materials on the ground, I gulped down a knot of emotion as I stared at the tombstone.
The notion that grief faded with time? It was inaccurate. No, grief and loss never faded. Absence never quite abated. It lingered, and sometimes it flared, but it never faded. That was the price we paid for the memories that lived on.
"Hi, Mom," I said.
There were leaves to rake and a rosebush in need of pruning, and those tasks kept me busy while I gathered the rest of my words.
"I'm getting married tonight, Mom," I said while I mounded mulch around the rosebush. "Although it doesn't look much like a wedding. I guess that's the best part: no one knows it's a wedding."
