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“Okay, I’m on my way. My neighbor has a wet vac, so we should be able to do some of the cleanup ourselves, which will reduce the cost.”
“Perfect. See you soon.”
By the time Susan arrived Riley had talked to the plumber, who said he’d be there in a few hours, postponed the second meeting with the designer, called Jenna the wedding planner twice, and given himself a hell of a headache.
“You don’t look so good,” Susan said when she pushed open the kitchen door.
“Thanks a lot.” Riley helped her tug the wet vac over the threshold.
“Did you sleep?”
“Not well.”
“I hope it’s Thorne keeping you up all hours and not bakery shit.”
“Susan!”
She laughed. “I know you’re a prude when it comes to talking about Thorne, but I had to ask.”
“It’s nothing. Just a restless night.”
“You’re going to have to do better than that. And don’t turn around and say it really is Thorne. Something’s bothering you.”
“Fine. It’s this damn wedding.”
“The damn wedding you cajoled Thorne into?”
“I didn’t—”
She raised a brow.
“I told him it was very important to me because it’s part of my cheesy, perfect-life dream.”
“Sometimes cheesy, perfect-life dreams aren’t so great in reality.”
“I’m learning that, but now that it’s legal and Thorne and I really can get married, it seems a shame not to have a ceremony.”
“So have a wedding, but quit trying to make it perfect.”
“Thorne isn’t interested. He doesn’t care about the decisions and—”
“Did you really expect him to?”
Riley sighed. “I guess I’m being unrealistic, but it would be so much better if I felt like we were actually doing this together.”
“You can’t have everything. He agreed to it. So he doesn’t want to be involved. Plan it like you want it.”
“Wow. You’re real sympathetic.”
Susan laid a hand on his arm. “I love you, Riley. I’m just trying to help you be realistic.”
“Am I really being a huge bitch about everything?” He really hoped not.
“No, you’re being incredibly enthusiastic, and Thorne’s not. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you happy.”
“But I don’t want him to hate the wedding.”
“He won’t, not if you’re there.”
Riley frowned. “How do you know?”
“Because all he really wants is you, Riley.”
Her words hit Riley hard. That was what mattered, wasn’t it? That they had each other? Should he back down? “Do you think he wants me to cancel the ceremony?”
Susan shook her head. “I think he’s just whining. Don’t ask him for so many decisions, and it will be fine.”
“Okay. I’ll try to back off.”
“Good. Now plug this thing in, and let’s see if we can get the water cleaned up.”
***
Thorne sighed as he crept along at about ten miles per hour. It had been a hell of a long week, and he just wanted to be home. He wanted to eat dinner, talk to Riley about the honeymoon, and then make slow sweet love to him, something they didn’t do often, but it was what he needed that night. That and to not talk about any other wedding plans. The number of decisions he’d already had to make was staggering. He’d developed business plans for global conglomerates that required less input. Maybe he really should’ve insisted that they elope.
No, Riley needed to have a ceremony. It would all be over in a few months.
Fourteen long weeks.
He’d survive. Their relationship would survive, though he was already regretting agreeing to wait to toss the condoms until after the wedding. They needed something exciting to distract them both from all the tension, work, planning, too goddamn much pressure, and too little fun.
Finally the traffic cleared up, and he made it home, but even the elevator ride seemed longer than usual. When he stuck his key into the door the first thing that hit him was an amazing smell. He stepped inside and saw Riley in the kitchen wearing a red apron, over clothes this time. Damn! Riley was busily stirring something that, based on the aroma, Thorne guessed was marinara.
Thorne set his bag down and headed for the kitchen. He hugged Riley from behind and kissed the side of his neck. “You’re a saint for making dinner.”
Riley smiled.
Then Thorne began to wonder if he had ulterior motives. Was dinner a ploy to cajole him into more planning? Not that he’d really minded the bribery, though food bribes came in second to sexual ones. Nothing could make a man say I-don’t-care-what-color-tux-you-make-me-wear like his boyfriend’s tongue up his ass.
“You ready to talk about our honeymoon trip?” If they got that over with, then after dinner Thorne could focus on Riley’s ass.
“Let’s talk later. I need to focus. I’m making eggplant parmesan.”
Thorne looked at all the new catalogs and samples on the table and grew suspicious. “Kathryn’s favorite?”
“Yes.” Riley seemed very focused on the pot of sauce.
“She’s coming over, isn’t she?”
“Yes, but I doubt she’ll stay long after dinner.”
He’d really thought Riley was cooking for him. He didn’t want Kathryn to come over. He wanted the two of them to have a night together. Was that so much to ask?
