LOLA, AKA FACING A CURSED REALITY

Clover and I stare at the three outfits I’ve chosen as possibilities for the engagement party. I have my sloppy T-shirt and jeans to imply I’m not taking the wedding seriously. There’s the sexy black dress to imply I’m already halfway out the door and won’t take Val’s cheating personally. Then, there’s the floral dress I wore to my mom’s church wedding years ago. I’m not sure what that one implies.

Dropping my ass onto the mattress, I hide under my hair and wish I could skip to the part where Val is naked under me in this bed.

“I don’t know,” I mutter as Clover walks to my stuffed closet and tries to pry out clothes.

“You need a bigger closet.”

“What if Val wants me to live in his hellhole town?”

“You’ll be less than thirty minutes away. I think I’ll survive your absence.”

Frowning at Clover, I wonder about her lack of romantic options. She’s like a less boob-forward version of me. If she let her hair grow out and wore makeup, she’d be sexy. Guys already want to roll around with her, but she has zero interest.

Years ago, while we were bar-hopping, I asked if she was asexual.

“I don’t know what that means,” she replied and downed her tequila shot. “If it’s about sloppy genitals crap, I’m not interested.”

My sister’s disinterest in love is probably a godsend. I wish I cared less about loving Val. If I could simply enjoy his fine body, like Kerrie did with Duke, I wouldn’t be flipping out over what to wear.

My mom claimed she signed on to a loveless marriage without a moment of hesitation. She wanted to make her family stronger and found Duke handsome.

“Romantic love is overrated,” she told me when I was little. “I like having a man who doesn’t gross me out when he drops his drawers. He’s good with you girls, and he lets me have my hobbies. It’s the perfect marriage.”

Of course, as soon as my grandfather died and she could bail on Duke, Kerrie got herself a lawyer. Turned out, she had met a man who inspired more than her vagina to rev. With Marv from Minnesota, her heart raced, and butterflies took up residence in her belly. Suddenly, romantic love had its value.

“Val seems to like you,” Clover says and shows me a white, lacy boho blouse. “How about this with pale blue jeans and sandals? It’s both casual but not lazily so.”

I smile at my sister’s choice. For a tomboy, she always knows what looks good on a woman.

“You’re so smart,” I say and hug her. “I wish we could skip the party.”

“You’re looking at this wrong,” Clover says, breaking free of my bear hug. “You keep acting weird about Val like he’s a burden and love is awful or whatever. But I was at the bar when you met him. You guys had chemistry. He made you laugh. You made him laugh, too. You guys had fun that night. So, why are you making everything so ugly when you should be having fun?”

“He’s never going to love me.”

“You don’t know. Mom and Dad didn’t even know each other before they married and they had fun together. But you have this connection with Val already. He likes you. When you were flipping out on the street, he kept smiling and chuckling like your obnoxious behavior was funny.”

Smiling wistfully, I mumble, “He laughed when I screamed at him at the store, too.”

“Most men would think you were nuts and walk away. But Val doesn’t care if you’re a cuckoo capable of losing her marbles at the store.”

I frown at her dig at my sanity. Screaming might have been a bit much, but I had no idea what else to do. I still don’t know how I could have handled it better. Running away seemed stupid. Tackling him and dry-humping in public also felt wrong.

“I haven’t been myself since I met Val.”

“He could be your guy.”

“Don’t mock the family curse. You’ll anger it.”

“Val’s family is bigger and full of couples. I saw Val’s brother and that redheaded girl at the movies a few weeks ago. They were really into each other. Maybe Val’s family can cancel out our curse.”

Cuddling with my black-and-white cat, I admit, “I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“Why?”

“Is that a real question?”

“When we do shot-glass roulette, we know we’ll end up hungover in a hotel room the next day. There might be vomit involved. We don’t feel good for days afterward. But we still do it because the actual roulette part is fun. Why can’t you think of this thing with Val and the wedding in the same way? Yes, it might end badly, and you’ll feel sick for a while when it goes wrong. But there’ll still be a lot of fun before the hangover hits.”

“How are you so smart?”

“I read a lot during my downtime at work.”

Smiling at her sheepish grin, I rest back on the bed and think about Val. As soon as I knew I wanted him, I started treating the poor guy like the enemy. If I could rip my gaze away from our bleak future and instead focus on the sexy present, I could have a lot of fun with the beefcake.

I roll over on the mattress and look around my room. The shabby chic thing works for me. My apartment is only one bedroom with a cute country kitchen. I’ve furnished this place with goofy crap I’ve bought from farmers markets, thrift shops, and garage sales. I like my space, but it doesn’t suit a man of Val’s size or sensibilities. He’ll barely fit on my queen-sized bed.

“Do you want my apartment if I move to Tumbling Rock?” I ask Clover who pets Moo.

“I like living at home. Grandma is always over. Dad said I can get as many pets as I can safely fit in my room. Why move?”

“I’m not sure I want to live in Tumbling Rock.”

“You’ll be fine. That redheaded girl is around your age. Tuesday is, too. Val’s other cousins are in their twenties. You might have actual girlfriends instead of bugging me all the time.”

“I refuse to give you up,” I reply in an ominous tone and reach for her. “You will always be my free therapist.”

Offering me a smirk so similar to our dad’s, Clover exits my bedroom. “I’m going home to change before the party.”

“Want me to come along and help you choose an outfit?”

“No. I want to be left alone since I’ll soon be at the party with a bunch of strangers and the meatheads.”

My sister is a loner for the most part. I’m the only reason Clover ever goes out to do anything fun.

I meet my family at the clubhouse where Duke has the meatheads lined up in the parking lot. He’s lecturing them about what they can’t do at the party. A lot of obvious stuff is mentioned—aka, no pissing against trees, no grabbing anyone’s ass, no stealing food from people’s plates, and absolutely no starting fights.

The meatheads stand very upright like they’re at boot camp with a mean drill sergeant. I look over the club guys and try to view them with fresh eyes. Nope, can’t do it.

They look like the same meatheads I’ve known for most of my life. I assume they’re intimidating to people. I see how old women cradle their purses when a member of the Blood-Red Suns shows up. However, I can’t imagine anyone at the Tumbling Rock homestead will be intimidated or impressed by these men.

Duke stops lowkey threatening them. Rather than riding with the meatheads, he leaves his motorcycle behind and claims the driver’s seat in Erin’s SUV. My grandma slides into the passenger seat. Clover and I end up in the back like kids. My sister is dressed stylishly in a messy way. Up front, Duke wears a black T-shirt and jeans while Erin is in a flattering pink tank-style top and a denim skirt.

“Have you heard from Mercer?” Duke asks as he leads our convoy toward Tumbling Rock.

“He sends a text every morning to remind me of our upcoming wedding.”

Duke grunts at this information. He’s barely mentioned Val this week. I’ve kept mum, too. It’s almost like the entire thing was a fevered dream.

Pulling out my phone, I look at the images Val sent to me over the last few days. The first picture reveals his morning woody hidden under his red boxers.

“Pitched tent after dreaming of you,” he wrote. “Soon, I’ll have an outlet for this thing.”

That message annoyed the hell out of me. The next day, I expected another boner picture. Instead, he sent a sleepy selfie.

“Woke up thinking of you. This is the face you’ll see every morning. Feeling lucky?”

I admit to swooning over that photo. Val’s so handsome, and his smile is incredibly infectious. I also liked how he wasn’t only thinking of us boning.

Other messages included pictures of his family. There was one of Tuesday and Alexis—West’s redheaded wife—cuddled up with Poppy. I received one of Poppy arguing with her older sisters, Journey and Justice. The women weren’t even pretending to sell their anger.

All week, Val sent pictures of his family and the homestead. He introduced me to the various family pets. He sent an image of his grandfather feeling up his grandmother when they thought no one was looking.

I wanted to send him pictures of my family and the regulars at the diner. Yet, I’m afraid to let Val own my heart. No matter how excited he seems about getting married, I don’t believe I’ll ever own his heart.

“Did you ever pretend to love Mom in a romantic way?” I blurt out as we near Tumbling Rock.

“She always knew what was happening,” Duke says and then mutters, “Why? Did she say otherwise?”

“No. I was just wondering what marriage without romance feels like.”

“Oh, your father was plenty romantic,” Grandma Erin assures me. “He brought her flowers and remembered important dates.”

“Dad is great about his Google calendar,” Clover says, and I catch my dad smirking.

“Just because a marriage isn’t sparked by love doesn’t mean the two people have to treat each other like work buddies,” Duke explains, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. “You can make it as fun as you want, Lola.”

“I liked my husbands,” Grandma Erin announces. “I liked my first husband’s sperm and my second husband’s wallet. For my third husband, I absolutely fell in love with his sex skills.”

“I do remember you mentioning that a lot back then,” Duke says, fighting his urge to tell her to zip it. “You might have mentioned his dick size in a Christmas letter one year.”

My grandmother laughs wildly. “It was very impressive.” Turning around to look at me, Erin smiles. “One day, I bet you’ll brag plenty about Val Mercer’s dick in your Christmas letter.”

“I’m not doing those.”

“We’ll see if you can deny their pull once your kiddos come along.”

“I don’t want to be a grandfather,” Duke grumbles. “No need for you to rush to have kids.”

“I don’t want to be an old mom.”

“Thirty isn’t old.”

“Neither is forty,” I tell him.

Duke smiles at how I soothe his banged-up ego. Despite my emotional clusterfuck this week, I’ve never forgotten why this is happening. I need to protect my family, the club, and my hometown. Val might be a swoon-worthy dumbass, but he’ll take on a leadership role in a way the meatheads riding behind us never can.

I’m feeling optimistic as we pull down the road leading to the homestead. A dozen homes are scattered across the picturesque land. I also spot several large detached garages. Based on Val’s pictures, the homestead includes an indoor pool and a playroom. He’s already challenged me to a game of ping pong.

“Winner gets oral with no expectation of reciprocity,” explained his text.

I’d rolled my eyes at his words, yet I also cried a little. Val Mercer is everything I want. Legally, he’ll be mine. However, I want more than a piece of paper or an alliance for the club’s sake.

I want everything from Val, and he acts like I can have it.