My Big Fat Fake Honeymoon - Lauren Landish Page 0,135

else want a tat? I don’t mind. Daddy paid,” Reno jokes, pointing an ink-covered finger at Dad.

“Hell, no,” Ross says.

Everyone else murmurs some version of ‘thanks, but no thanks’, and we stand, ready to leave.

Lorenzo shakes Reno’s hand, and I reach up to hug his broad shoulders. “Thank you for making tonight come true.”

“Y’all are some weird fuckers,” he replies with a shake of his head.

He’s right about that. But we’re happily in love weird fuckers, and that’s what matters.

We make our way out the door, but I glance back once more with a smile.

We did it. Lorenzo and I are married for real, the sting of my finger a good pain.

Wait, what’s Dad doing?

Oh, my God. I’m going to need to scrub that image out of my head because I just saw Dad pick up one of Reno’s business cards and shoot sexy eyes at Mom.

Ugh.

“Okay, well . . . bye!” I tell everyone, focusing on Lorenzo. “We’re off on our honeymoon . . . again. No worries, this time we’re just going home,” I joke, well aware that everyone knows what we’re going home to do.

Ross makes a gagging noise that Carly starts copying, and Vi growls at them both.

Lorenzo helps get my helmet on and then, like before, we race off into the night.

I feel free and floaty, tethered to nothing more than Lorenzo with a tiny but strong string. Not the inked one around my finger but the one from my heart to his.

Chapter 28

Abi

“What do you think?” I ask Janey. I spin the arrangement in front of me, trying to decide if I’m done.

“Hmm, it’s all right, I guess. What’s it for?”

“Bitch! This is not ‘all right’. It’s fabulous and you know it!” I counter.

She smiles and points at me. “Then why the hell are you asking me if you already know it’s perfect? Anything by The Abigail Andrews, floral designer to the stars, will be.”

I blush even though she’s teasing me but ultimately play along by resting my chin on the back of my hand Glamour Shots-circa 1995-style as I look off to the right with a smug smile.

“Bitch,” she repeats.

“Thanks.” I laugh. “For real, though, Violet and Archie will be here any minute to pick this up. It’s for a client.” I eye the vase and flowers once more, replaying what Archie said they wanted.

“Fab. You. Luxe. Over the top, big and bold, and huge. Like, I need the Jonah Falcon of flowers type of huge, with purple of every shade from deepest night to the barest kiss of lilac. I’ll bring you the vase because I sourced it to match the candlesticks.”

Well, this definitely matches what Archie said he wanted, though I’d had to Google who the Falcon guy was. Let’s just say ‘huge’ was the right word selection from Archie.

Janey has lost interest in my assessment of the flowers and has taken to clicking on her phone. It kinda irks me until the Bluetooth speakers start playing Prince’s Purple Rain and I realize that she was with me all along.

Janey starts doing some smooth, hip-swaying, sexy moves to the song, and I can’t help but try too. She’s better than I am by a mile, but it’s fun to goof off and giggle in the back while Samantha holds down the register.

“Oh. My. God,” Archie’s voice says from the back door, which we apparently left open because he and Violet are standing in the doorway. Vi’s trying not to laugh, and Archie looks pissed that we didn’t invite him to the dance party.

“Abs, girl. No,” he tells me, grabbing my hips. “Like this,” he hisses, helping me sway.

Laughing, I swat at his hands. “I thought I was doing pretty well!”

He gives me a sad look as he shakes his head. “I know you did, babe. That’s the worst part.” He tsks. “You thought that was some grade-A, stripper quality work. Make time to hit the gym with Courtney again. A little Zumba would do you good. Help make all that flex-y yoga worth something. You can’t just stick your ankles behind your head and lie there. You’ve gotta move.”

He demonstrates himself, bending his knees and giving his ass a little twerk. He does a hair flip, locks eyes with me, and then sashay walks across the room. I’ll admit he gave a better performance than either Janey or I did.

“Bravo!” I say dryly with a polite clap. Knowing when I’m beat, I get back to work where nobody can beat me.