A Long Time Coming (Cane Brothers, #3)(87)

“Excuse me?” he asks. “You don’t want to marry me?”

“No, I do. I’m just saying we’re having some issues, and I think they need to be sorted before we get married. I think it’s important.”

“The only issue I have is that you seem to be getting these ideas in your head about me, and I have no clue where they’re coming from. We were fine before all of this, so why now? Why are you second-guessing our relationship?”

“I’m not second-guessing, I’m just trying to iron out some kinks, and I don’t think I should be chastised for that. I mean, when I’ve asked you for your support with your mom about the wedding stuff, you take her side. Don’t you think you should be taking your future wife’s side?”

“Why does there have to be a side? Why isn’t there a compromise?”

“Because your mom doesn’t understand the word compromise.”

“Pretty sure she’s cut down the guest list, we’re now getting married in a garden rather than a church, and there are daisies in the wedding to represent your mom. None of those were on my mother’s list to begin with.”

“Your mother shouldn’t even have a list. Your mother shouldn’t be this involved.”

“She’s representing me, Lia. Since I’m busy, she’s taking on the responsibility of standing up for what I want.”

“Oh really?” I ask. “So you believe it’s imperative to have roses at your wedding?”

“Yes, I think they’re eloquent.”

“Please, Brian. You couldn’t care less what’s happening at the wedding. You’re just going to show up.”

“That’s not true. I want what’s going to look nice, what’s going to represent the family, and a day we can remember forever.”

“It’s not always about image,” I say as I move past him.

“Why do you keep arguing about this? You’re getting your way with things. Why are you making a big deal about it?”

“Because if this was what I wanted, we wouldn’t be having it at the club, we wouldn’t be inviting people I don’t know, and I wouldn’t be changing into three dresses.”

“But it’s not all about you, Lia. You might be the bride, but I’m the groom, and there has to be pieces of me in the wedding planning as well. My mother knows what that is.”

“Well, maybe if you talked to me about what you wanted, I could help pick those things out.”

He blows out a heavy breath. “You’re creating a fight over nothing. Like I said, something has gotten in your head, and you’re trying to find any excuse not to . . . not to go through with this. And if that’s the case, Lia, just tell me now. I don’t want to get to our wedding day and have you run out on me because you finally found the courage to do so.”

“Brian, I’m not trying to get out of this,” I say, feeling defeated. “I’m just trying to get you to understand where I’m coming from. I want us to be okay. I want you to be on my side. To want me. To not think I’m going through some sort of crisis because I changed my hair. I mean . . . are you going to judge me when I walk down the aisle? Are you going to think my dress is ugly? Is that something I should worry about?”

“No, my mother sent me a picture. It’s a pretty dress.”

I pause and tilt my head to the side. “Your mother . . . sent you a picture of my dress?”

“Yes, she wanted to make sure I approved.”

“That’s not . . . that’s not something you need to approve. That’s my decision.”

“Do you hear yourself?” he asks. “You’re being so selfish. This wedding isn’t just about you, Lia.”

“I didn’t say it was,” I yell. “God, you’re so infuriating. I’m so glad you freaking came here to fix things. Good job.” I move toward the kitchen and grab myself a sparkling water.

“Does any of this have to do with Breaker?”

I pause, the hairs on the back of my neck spring to attention, and I feel my inner rage spike to DEFCON 1 levels.

“I swear to God, Brian,” I say as I spin on my heel. “Bring him up one more time, and I will end this engagement, this wedding, and this relationship. This has nothing to do with him and everything to do with us and our disconnect.”

“I don’t feel a disconnect.”

“Because you’re not here,” I shout. “You’re so blind, so clueless. I mean, hell, I’m offering to put your dick in my mouth, and you can’t even fathom the idea. You should want your dick in my mouth.”

“You want to suck me off?” he yells. He sits down on the couch and leans back. “Fine, Lia. Suck me off.”

“You’re such an asshole,” I say as I walk back to the bedroom.





BREAKER





“I don’t feel very good,” I say as JP and Huxley walk me to my apartment.

“Because you had three shots of Scotch in ten minutes, realized your mistake, tried to counteract with buttery croissants and water, and now your stomach has no idea what to do with itself,” JP says.

“If you puke on my shoes, I’ll murder you,” Huxley says.