I sure as shit am not.
There’s a suitcase in the trunk of my car to prove it.
Thalia downs the drink, all the while eyeing the ring. “I think I’m drunk enough, Mr. Hayes. Now what?”
“Now?” I take her hand, and we fall into step, heading toward the door while people shout congratulations. “Now we get married,omorfiá.”
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Continue for chapter one of Too Wrong.
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TOO WRONG
ONE
Logan
“WHY ARE YOU MAKING SUCH A BIG DEAL OUT OF THIS?” I ask, helping my younger brother rearrange his living room to accommodate the fifty-odd people he invited to his wife’s birthday party. He’s been married for two years, but it’s still unnatural to think of my baby bro as a husband. “It’s not like you threw a party last year for her twenty-fifth, and that was more significant than twenty-six.”
Theo grabs one end of the sofa, prompting me to do the same with the other. I’m honestly not the guy for this fucking job. I’ve got muscles, alright. I work out in my home gym four times a week to stay in relatively good shape. I swim fifty lengths of the pool in my backyard if the weather permits. That’s why I’ve got a swimmer’sbody and a swimmer’s strength. Lifting couches isn’t my strongest suit.
Besides, I’m lazy as fuck.
The only reason I’m here, suffering through the joys of helping Theo, is that he’s my brother. A long time ago, I made it a rule not to saynoto either of the six assholes I’m related to if they need help. That’s not to say I won’t sue if I throw my back sparring with the monstrous couch.
Theo dropped the ball calling me for help with heavy lifting instead of asking our younger brother, Nico. That crazy so-and-so would throw the couch over his shoulder and go for a run. No biggie.
“We were on holiday for Thalia’s birthday last year,” Theo reminds me, walking backwards down the hallway to stash the three-seater, heavy as a cow, bright orangecouch in one of the guest bedrooms for the duration of the party.
I guess I’ll have to standall evening… this party just keeps getting better and better, doesn’t it?
“This year, I want everyone here. Thalia and Mom still don’t get along, and we don’t have many chances to fix that.”
Inviting fifty people won’t give them the best opportunity to bond, but I don’t waste my breath pointing it out. I also don’t remind him about the last unsuccessful Mom slash Thalia bonding time. A get-together at our parents’ house last month didn’t go down well. Poor Thalia stormed out halfway through dessert after Mom insulted a strawberry cheesecake which, according to Theo, took Thalia six hours and four tries to make.
Internally, I sided with Mom when she chirped in an artificially playful tone that the cake looked like something a toddler threw up, but I hadn’t said a word to Thalia.
If I’m perfectly honest, she scares me a little. She’s beautiful, caring and all-out amazing, but there’s a side to her I don’t enjoy so much: fiery, Greek attitude; a living, breathing volcano. The colorful, thick accent flares whenever she’s angry, rendering English words impossible to understand.
Mom’s reluctance to accept her as a part of the Hayes clan surprised all its current members. Dad included. Even more so because when Theo and Thalia started dating, the two were on the right track to winning a mother and daughter-in-law prize of some sort… right until Theo decided to marry the girl in Las fucking Vegas.
Once Mom found out a big Church wedding won’t happen, she changed her tune.
Theo and Thalia dated for a few months before Thalia’s surname changed from Dimopopololu or Dimopopus or Dimo-something or other to Hayes, so that probably didn’t help their case either, but it’s been almost two years of T&T’s unbridled, sickening happiness that makes me want to double over and puke a fucking rainbow half the time. I thought Mom would get over herself by now.
She always wanted a daughter—hence seven sons—but now that she technically has one, she morphed into a stereotypical monster-in-law. Jealous, petty, and ostentatious. Theo has a lot more patience than I do. I’d chew Mom’s head off if she treated my girl with the same cool, harsh restraint for no apparent reason. Not that I have a girl but case in point.
In Dad’s words, Mom realized that one by one, all her sons will be snatched by a woman, leaving her alone and unwanted. Cue in operation“Make Mom feel needed.”
The seven of us visit more often and ask for help with anything that springs to mind. It’s incredible how calling Mom at seven in the morning, asking for a pancake recipe, lifts her mood. Unfortunately, the trick does little to warm her up to Thalia.Civilis as warm as they get.
“I bet it wouldn’t hurt if you took Mom out to dinner and just talked to her,” I say, trying to pirouette the sofa through the door, my mind flashing with Ross, “Friends”, andpivot.“Listen to what she has to say. Just the two of you. No Thalia.”
“Yeah,” he grunts, drops his side, and steps back to assess the situation. This shouldn’t be so fucking difficult, but here we are facing a dilemma worthy of two toddlers in front of a shape sorting cube attempting to fit a rhombus in a heart-shaped hole. “I’ll think about it.”
“While you think about that, take a second to think about getting your wife pregnant. You’ve been together for two years. You’re married. What the fuck are you waiting for? Some kind of an invitation? I’ll print out one if you want. Maybe Mom would be happier with Thalia if you’d start the grandchildren production already?”