Love and Neckties - Lacey Black Page 0,29

the others to feast on. A worker finally called the authorities, which ended up hitting national news when it was discovered the owner of the farm is a senator’s son.

“I heard,” I finally confirm, chugging my too-hot coffee.

“Well, then you must agree with me, right? That’s a horrible way to treat an animal,” she states, her eyes a little glossy from unshed tears. One thing I’ve learned about Freedom in the last twenty plus years, she’s incredibly soft-hearted, especially with animals, but while she doesn’t eat meat, she’s never pushed her beliefs off on anyone around her. She’s never criticized Harper or our family for that matter when we eat cheeseburgers or steak. Freedom just politely declines and picks something else.

“Horrible,” I agree, keeping my eyes ahead of me. Marissa and Rhenn chat with Kathryn and Jensen, completely oblivious to the fact I’m caught in my own personal hell, with Freedom on one side and our aunt and uncle on the other.

Once everyone has placed their orders, Latham’s dad stands up and asks for our attention. “If I could have your attention, please. Kitty and I are honored to be in Las Vegas today to celebrate the union of our son, Latham, to this incredible woman,” he says, waving his hand toward my younger sister. “Harper, you make Latham a better person with your love and compassion. We’re eager to watch you two become husband and wife, as well as blend two families for life. We’re proud of you both and wish you a lifetime of happiness. Let’s raise our cups and glasses to Harper and Latham.”

I hold my coffee cup and salute my sister and her fiancé, as my heart gallops in my chest like a stallion. They did it right. They dated, have lived together, fell in love. Now, they’re pledging their love and committing for life. The right way.

Then there’s me.

Getting shitfaced drunk and apparently marrying a woman I can barely stand. Wait, that seems a little inaccurate. It’s not that I dislike her, it’s the fact we’re so different.

A bead of perspiration slides down my spine as Freedom shifts in her chair beside me. Her hand brushes against mine in the most innocent way possibly, yet it feels like a bolt of lightning straight into my bloodstream. A pulse lives and breathes in my veins, like a reckless desire I can’t seem to contain.

All from the simplest of touches.

“We brought a gift,” Emma announces to the table, standing up and reaching for the gift bag she brought with. “I was going to wait until after the wedding for this, but I recall on my wedding day, I was terribly nervous,” she says, as she slowly makes her way to the head of the table to where Harper and Latham sit.

Harper kinda giggles but doesn’t really look nervous. In fact, I’d say she looks the opposite. She looks excited. Happy. Content.

“I was so nervous, I snuck out of my parents’ room and to the hall closet where my Orvie was hiding.”

“Oh God,” Marissa gasps, her eyes wide with shock at our aunt’s insinuation.

“Yes, that’s right, Marissa. I was calling our good Lord and savior just moments before walking down the aisle to say I do.”

Harper giggles, while mom covers her eyes with her hand.

“The gift!” Emma hollers, handing the bag to my sister.

Carefully, as if she were afraid of something to jump out at her, she pulls out layers of tissue paper before she retrieves a multicolor blanket. Latham takes it, and together, they stand up and unfold the large blanket. Several gasps echo throughout the room, and not necessarily from our table.

“I learned how to crochet this past summer,” Emma boasts, clapping her hands.

“Are those…” Jensen starts, but suddenly stops. His hand goes to his mouth as he tries to hid his laugh.

“What is that?” Marissa asks, leaning forward to get a better view of the intricate detail of the blanket.

“Holy shitballs, Sammy. That’s a sex blanket,” Freedom says as she places her hand on my forearm, her nails biting my flesh through my button-down. I adjust my tie to keep from reaching for her fingers.

I don’t look at my arm, however. My eyes are glued to the train wreck of a wedding gift because there, delicately crocheted in bold colored yarn is a couple engaging in sexual acts in just about every position known to man. Dozens of positions, some I’ve never even heard of before.

“What in the world is that thing?” Mom asks, her