The Firework Exploded (The Holidays #3)(27)

My head jerks back and I stare at him in shock.

“What? But, the bottle had a date on it of December 26th. Right when we started dating. Right when you met my bat-shit crazy family.”

He laughs softly and shakes his head at me. “Babe, that was just the date my doctor gave me a new prescription. He wanted to try out something different and see if it gave me better results. I went back to him last week and pretty much started flipping tables, telling him about the sex problem and how if he didn’t fix it, I would have your dad come down there and cut off his dick.”

I sigh in irritation, pressing my forehead against his.

“We really are complete idiots.”

Sam bends his head down and kisses me softly, pulling back to kiss both of my cheeks and tip of my nose.

“The good news is, that means we’re completely made for each other,” he tells me. “From now on, we just need to promise to be honest with each other about any medical conditions so there isn’t a breakdown in communication and we turn into one of those stories in a romance novel.”

“Well, the way we met and fell in love is already sort of like a Lifetime movie, so I’m pretty sure we’re doomed,” I laugh.

“Yeah, but at least it’s not a cheesy Lifetime movie. There’s too many drag queens, killer zombie cats, and fathers who threaten you with dairy products for it to be cheesy.”

“Oh, and I should probably tell you that I have a very serious medical condition. One where I have trouble peeing standing up until someone turns on the water faucet,” I tell him seriously.

“Don’t worry, next time you pee standing up, I’ll be there to turn on the faucet and make sure it doesn’t get too weird,” he promises.

“We should totally put that in our vows.”

As we laugh and lean toward each other for another kiss, the front door opens and slams shut and we pause with our mouths an inch apart.

“SCHEEEEEEEEVA! I LOVE YOU! I COME BARING BUTTER!”

Sam and I turn our heads toward the living room doorway when the house is filled with the sound of footsteps pounding down the stairs. We watch Scheva go racing past the living room and hear a thump and the crash of a picture frame falling to the floor when she most likely catapulted herself into Alex’s arms.

“Oh, my God! You brought me butter. You really love me, don’t you?!” Scheva shouts.

“I brought you a whole shit ton of butter, baby. I got Parkay, I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter, Land-O-Lakes, Imperial, and Country Crock,” Alex tells her.

Sam and I look at each other and wince in disgust as we listen to the two idiots making up on the other side of the wall.

“Say it again, slowly,” Scheva whispers loudly.

“Country Crrrrrrroccccccckkkkk,” Alex says in a deep, drawn out voice.

“WHAT IN THE DEVIL IS GOING ON DOWN HERE?”

Sam and I quickly scramble away from each other when my father’s voice booms from the bottom of the steps. He looks at me in fear and I look down at myself, realizing I’m still only wearing my bra and underwear, having removed my wedding dress an hour ago and being too drunk at the time to care where I put my clothes. My father’s footsteps thump down the hall in our direction and I quickly grab Sam’s hips and turn him around, hiding myself behind his body.

“Oh, great. Put me out in front, right in the open where he can easily slaughter my dick!” Sam complains worriedly under his breath.

My dad appears in the doorway with my mom right behind him. They both look back and forth between me huddled behind Sam half naked, and Scheva and Alex by the front door doing God only knows what with butter.

Dad reaches toward the wall in the hallway and flips on the lights above him and the main one for the living room, connected to the ceiling fan.

Everyone in the house is suddenly spotlighted in bright florescent lightening. Suddenly, me being in my underwear with Sam in the living room, and Alex and Scheva licking butter off of each other by the front door stops being the main focus of everyone but my father.

“Bev, get me my favorite butcher knife from the kitchen. I’ve got some dicks to chop off,” my father growls, putting his hands on his hips and puffing out his chest.

Unfortunately, by doing this, none of us can take him seriously and it only makes it that much harder to avoid looking. No matter how much we want to look away, it’s pretty much impossible. There’s nowhere for our eyes to go but down.

“Damn, Reggie. That’s pretty impressive. I think that deserves a fist-bump!” Alex announces.

We watch as Alex appears in the doorway with his arm out, holding his fist out to my father. His fist currently covered in a thick layer of butter.

“What in tarnation are you talking about, dip stick?” my father asks him in annoyance.

Alex just laughs, but the longer my father glares at him, the faster his laughter dies and he quickly moves back until he’s behind the wall and out of our line of vision.

“Uh, Reggie, I think you have a little…I mean, I think there’s something…you might want to take care of…that,” Sam stutters, pointing awkwardly at my dad’s crotch.

At the huge tent poking out of his crotch behind his baggy, off-white boxers that he’s paired nicely with a set of black, shin-high dress socks.

My mother moves around my father and looks down to where Sam is pointing.