A Long Time Coming (Cane Brothers, #3)(47)

“As long as they don’t—booooother-her-her me,” Lia says, hopping around again when the bee goes for her ear. “It’s dive-bombing me. It knows I’m weak.”

“Ophelia, you’re making a fool of yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” she says as she straightens up, just in time for the bee to hit her in the ear. “Mother of God!” Lia screams as she flails her arm out to the side, unfortunately striking The Beave right in the boob.

Plop.

And together, we all watch in horror as the fragile woman flails her arms up in the air, a croak falling off the tip of her tongue as she teeters backward.

There’s no stopping the inevitable.

We all see it happening.

She’s headed right for the stacks of hydrangeas.

And with a crash, a groan, and a tumble, the nursery falls silent as The Beave sinks into the table of flowers.

Buckets of water fall everywhere.

Hydrangea branches snap.

And a wince felt around the world appears on all of our faces.

“Get me out of here at once,” The Beave says. I rush to her side and help her out, only to quickly go to Lia’s side for protection because the inner depths of hell are about to part, and I’m pretty sure if I don’t hold on tight enough, Lia is going to be sucked in.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” Lia starts, but The Beave holds her hand up to stop her.

Straightening her jacket and wiping the water from her face, she looks up at Lia and says in a voice I think was only intended for nightmares, “There will be red roses at the wedding with very minimal daisies. End of discussion.” And then she takes off, her assistant at her side.

We stand there, a touch stunned as the florist leaves as well. After a few seconds, Lia says, “That, uh . . . that wasn’t ideal.”

I can’t help it. I let out a low chuckle and say, “Who knew you would get to second base with your mother-in-law today? What did it feel like? In my head, they’re just sacs of dust.”

She coughs a few times. “Is that what I’m tasting? Boob dust?”

I let out a wallop of a laugh as I drape my arm over her and guide her toward the exit. “Just be glad your arm didn’t fly low, or else you would have a mouthful of vagina dust.”

“Vagina dust . . . isn’t that just Old Bay seasoning?” she asks, causing me to snort.

“Oh fuck . . . I love you.”





“You know, I’ve never seen someone’s blood boil in real life. You always hear the idiom, but you never actually see it.” Lia takes a bite of her burrito as we sit outside Alberto’s, one of our favorite places to go when we’re downtown. “But wow, we witnessed The Beave’s blood rippling through her ghastly veins today. It was something else.”

“If looks could kill, we’d both be dead.”

“Dead on the spot. Did you catch the look the florist gave us? I’m pretty sure she wanted to shrivel up and disappear.”

“I think that’s how everyone feels when The Beave is around.”

Lia takes a sip from the large lemonade we decided to share. “Thanks for sticking up for me. I appreciate it.”

“You don’t need to say thank you. That’s what a Pickle of Honor does.”

Lia chuckles but then grows quiet. “Do you think it’s stupid to do the knitted flower thing?”

I shake my head. “Makes me like you that much more.” Her eyes lift to mine. “I think it’s really sweet, and if I were in your shoes, I would want to do the same thing. This is an important day in a person’s life, and it’s only right to honor those who can’t be there. I think your mom would love it if you walked down the aisle with something you made together.”

“Agreed.” She sets her burrito down. “I keep thinking about the walk down the aisle and how my dad would have held me tightly, told me how much he loves me, how proud he is, and how he always dreamed of that day. The day he could give me away. And now . . . now I won’t have that. I’ll have to make the walk alone, and that’s daunting.”

“I’ll walk you down the aisle,” I say. “You won’t be alone. You’ll have me.”

“The Beave would never go for that, as you’re supposed to go ahead of me since you’re the Pickle of Honor.”

“By the way, if Pickle of Honor isn’t on the programs, I’m going to rage.” She smirks. “But I don’t care what The Beave wants. I want you to be happy, to feel like you’re surrounded by the people who love you, and if that means I’m double downing on responsibilities, then who fucking cares?”

“Thank you. Ugh, I hate that this has all been so morose. I feel like when you get married, it should be this big celebration. So far, it’s felt like a version of hell. The only reason I’ve made it through these past two days is because of you. I’m pretty sure I would have folded after the guest list number.”

“It will get better. Once all this planning is out of the way, it will be smooth sailing.”

“I hope so.” She lifts her burrito and takes another bite. “So you going to finish that conversation about Birdy?”

“What else is there to say?” I ask with a shrug. “I think I’m going to give it another chance, just because she’s cool and I had a good time with her. Maybe it was all the sugar I ate, but I told her I would take her hiking, so I’m going to do that, and we’ll see where it goes from there.”