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As soon as I put weight on my leg, I know it's a mistake, but I'll be damned if I'm going to let Robin see the pain I can feel etched on my face.
Keeping my back to her, I stand balanced on my left leg, letting blood circulate through my injured side and silently counting till the pins and needles pain of damaged nerve endings runs its course, before managing to retrieve the fucking cane from I dropped it when I lunged for the bed and the woman spread out on it when I came in.
When I come back from the bathroom with a soft washcloth soaked in warm water, Robin's fallen asleep. She doesn't see the frustration on my face with my dependence on this damn stick to even make it across the room when I sit beside her and gently wipe away the remnants of our love-making and the pink hints of blood that make me swell with pride knowing she's fully mine now.
Almost. I remind myself as I arrange the down comforter over her sleeping form. Almost fully mine.
There's one more thing left to do.
The ring's already in the pocket of the tuxedo jacket I'll be wearing for the wedding this weekend and Oz and Meadow are already on board with the plan.
5
ROBIN
Weddings are a big event in this tiny community. Looking around me, I'm pretty sure everyone in Moonshine Ridge is somewhere on the hot springs camping resort property that's owned by Mesa's family.
Meadow arranged the ceremony so that the wedding party would be seated while she and Oz did their vows. It meant that Mesa was easily able to take his place between his brother, Vale, and Raine Hart, who looks nervous sitting with the two older Diaz men.
Apparently, there's some sort of ongoing feud between Mesa's grandmother and her best friend, Alice verses the other two older women who make up the founding members of Moonshine Ridge's historical society.
No one seems to know what's it's about, but I gather that the Harts have been on the other side of the line and apparently, their oldest brother turned out to be kind of a jerk. But it was Raine that became Oz's best friend after he and Mesa had a falling out.
Trying to keep track of all the small-town drama has me thinking I should start keeping notes.
After the newly married couple dashes between guests pelting them with birdseed, and the rest of the wedding party files back off the stage of the open-air amphitheater, the real party kicks off.
Alex, Mesa's grandfather, has been working over a huge, charcoal grill since early this morning to prepare a feast for what they estimate will be at least a few hundred people in and out through the rest of the afternoon.
"Do you need a plate for Mesa too?" Marcia asks as I pile one of the trays with a variety of grilled meats and vegetables that her husband just pulled off the grill.
She hands me a stack of tortillas that she's busy making on her own side of the grill.
"We're sharing," I tell her, raising the overloaded plate as if to explain that I couldn't possibly eat this much food by myself.
The older lady laughs. She's barely five feet tall, with a rounded figure, and the kind of face that looks like it's been laughing like that for all of her eighty-three years.
I adore Marcia and Alejandro. In fact, I adore all of Mesa's big-- and growing-- family.
"Have you seen Mom?" Terra, the youngest of the family, is holding a sleeping six-week-old baby Fields in her arms as she eyes the plate of food in my hand jealously. "I was hoping to hand him off and join the party."
Fields is Meadow and Oz's son, and Mesa's newest nephew. Mesa missed his sister's entire pregnancy, but I think that might have been a good thing. He got injured just a couple weeks after finding out his sister was with Oz and well-- he's still having a hard time accepting that his little sister is grown up enough to have a baby.
"I saw her over by their cabin," I say after Marcia shakes her head, pointing at the grill and the spread of food as if to make it clear that she doesn't have time to keep track of everyone.
"Don't get the avocado on Mesa's side, he won't eat anything that's touched it," she warns as she heads off in search of her parents.
"Good to know." I laugh at the new information; for all we've gone through so early in our relationship, it's strange that I'm just finding out the little things. Like, apparently, the fact that my man won't touch avocados.
The sound system crackles and the DJ starts the usual announcements and small talk about the bride and groom.
The reception is not an organized event; just a lot of tables set up around the periphery of a large, dirt parking lot that is currently being used as a dance floor, and people everywhere.
It reminds me of a lot of the country weddings I've gone to back home in Slow River.
"How's my sexy angel?" Mesa takes the plate from me, giving the sliced avocado on one side of the carne asada a suspicious look as he sets it on the table beside him before grabbing me around my waist and pulling me onto his lap. "I missed you."
"You were stuck on stage, remember?"
