Room for Just a Little Bit More(9)

By: Beth Ehemann


“Yes, let’s go,” I whispered, sliding off of him.

I grabbed his hand and pulled him along behind me, down the hall.

“Wait. Do you want to go to your room or mine?” He stopped suddenly, tugging my hand back. “We don’t want the girls to hear us.”

“Having sex? No. But it’s about time they know we sleep together at night. We’re engaged to be married and they think of you as their daddy. Mommies and daddies sleep together at night. No more sneaking back to your room in the wee hours of the morning.” I winked. “Now come on before you kill my mood.”

We tiptoed down the hall, past my mom and Fred snoring in their room. I peeked in at Lucy and Piper as we passed. Sound asleep.

“They good?” Brody whispered.

“Sound asleep.” A seductive smile slid across my lips as I closed my bedroom door.





“Brody. Brody,” Kacie whispered loudly, her voice just strong enough to break into my nightmare of Viper covering me in feathers at my bachelor party. “Your phone is ringing.”

I rolled toward her and grunted without opening my eyes, not yet fully awake.

“Brody!” She smacked my shoulder. “Wake up.”

“Huh, what?” I sat up, trying to focus.

“Your phone is ringing. Again. It’s rang like three times in the last twenty minutes.”

“Oh.” I reached for my phone and squinted at the screen. “It’s my mom.”

“Hello?”

“Do you have any idea how it feels to go to my monthly book club and have the ladies there tell me they read online that my only son is engaged? Let me tell you something, Mister, it feels really shitty!” My mom yelled into the phone.

Crap. She never yelled. She never swore. Double whammy.

“Mom, I’m so sorry. We were gonna come by today and tell you,” I lied, shrugging at Kacie, who was glaring at me now that she realized I hadn’t told my mom. “It just happened a couple days ago, and we’ve been so busy since then.”

“Busy? You’ve been busy?” She drew out each word and emphasized each syllable.

Fuck.

“You’re right.” I sighed, feeling awful that I’d forgotten to call the one person who should have received the first call. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Mom.”

Kacie lay down and snuggled into me as I begged my mom for forgiveness.

“So.” She sighed in defeat. “How’d you do it? Propose, I mean.”

She was done yelling at me, but I could actually feel her sadness through the phone. I pictured her sitting at the kitchen table with a crinkled, tear-soaked tissue in her hand. My chest ached. Putting my hand over the phone so she couldn’t hear me, I whispered to Kacie, “Do we have any plans today?”

She rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling, trying to remember. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Mom, what are you doing today?”

“Nothing, just some picking up around here, maybe a little weeding if the rain holds off.”

“Remember when I was little, before we traveled for hockey all the time, and every summer we would go to the Chocolate Festival in Long Grove?”

“Mmhmm, that was always fun.” Her voice sounded a little more upbeat at that memory.

“Well, it’s this weekend. What if me, Kacie, and the girls come get you and we all go to that? Just like we used to, except now instead of you and your kid, it’s me and my kids?” Kacie threw her arm around me and hugged me tight while I continued, “Then Kacie can tell you about the proposal in person while I feed Lucy and Piper so much chocolate their bellies will ache for a week.”

“Brody,” my mom spoke softly, “that sounds absolutely wonderful.”

“Great! We’ll pick you up in a couple hours?”

“Perfect.” I could tell she was smiling now when she talked. “See you then.”





Two hours later, we were in Kacie’s Jeep, heading toward my mom’s. I liked when Kacie drove. Her tan legs reached out toward the pedals, the sun glistened off her copper hair as it whipped round and round her head, and don’t even get me started on the way the seatbelt sat so perfectly right in the middle of her breasts. With my sunglasses shielding my eyes, she had no idea I stared at her constantly. Sometimes I got so wrapped up in watching her movements, I forgot where we were going—and who we were with.