The Firework Exploded (The Holidays #3)(36)

“HOLY SHIT, GET IT OFF ME! GET IT OFF ME!”

Sam’s shout from the middle of the yard pulls me out of my day dream. I blink a few times to clear my head and I see him jumping around in circles, kicking his leg out to try and remove Turd Ferguson, who has once again latched his claws and teeth to Sam’s thigh. I quickly bend down and grab the hose, running across the yard until I’m jerked to a stop a few feet from him when the hose runs out of length. Pulling it up in front of me, I press the button on the nozzle as Aunt Bobbie comes racing up behind me, screaming at the top of her lungs.

“NOOOOOOOO, DON’T SPRAY HIM! HASN’T HE BEEN THROUGH ENOUGH?”

The water erupts from the nozzle, drenching Sam and the zombie cat. The cat immediately unlatches himself from Sam’s leg, flopping to the grass in a puddle of wet fur and pissed-off yowling, scurrying away to the opposite side of the yard where he disappears around the corner of the house.

“I’ve never seen a * that wet before,” Alex laughs. “Good thing you chased it away with the hose or Sam might have started humping it.”

I’m oblivious to the punch Sam gives to Alex’s arm or the retching and dry-heaving my brother is doing next to both of them, as I slowly lower my arms and the hose slips out of my hands. I’ve become obsessed with the way the water drips down Sam’s body and how his t-shirt clings to his abs and I’m wondering why I’ve never entered him in a wet t-shirt contest before. I start squirming while I stand here staring at him, rubbing my thighs together to stop the ache between my legs, not even caring that I’m currently in the middle of having a real-life wet dream in front of my family.

“I recognize that glazed look in Noel’s eyes. Quick, someone say something not hot before she catches what Sam has and starts mounting inanimate objects!” Alex suddenly shouts.

“You stay away from my fireworks, Sam! I don’t care if they have a phallic shape, there will be no humping of the explosives!” my father pipes up, his voice quickly dousing the flames growing in my vagina and snapping me back to attention.

My father and Sam start shouting back and forth, my mother and Aunt Bobbie argue about which one of them will go after Turd Ferguson and remove him from the property before tomorrow and he starts attacking random guests, Alex points and laughs at a still dry-heaving Nicholas, and I suddenly take a minute to look around the yard.

After letting go of the wedding planning and trusting my family to take care of everything, it’s been a struggle not to ask a thousand questions whenever they’d start whispering or leave the room to take a phone call. Looking around the yard and what they’ve done, restores my faith in them, even if they’re all currently acting like idiots and the neighbors have started to come outside to see what all the commotion is about.

I silently turn in a circle to take everything in, trying not to cry as I do so. My mother has somehow managed to remove almost every bit of Fourth of July decorations from the yard, or at least all the ones with the color blue in them, leaving nothing behind but red and white twinkling lights and red and white lighted stars hanging from all the trees.

We chose red and white as our wedding colors, mostly because having our wedding on the Fourth of July meant it would be easy to find things in those colors this time of year. In reality, Sam said the only decision he really cared about was picking the colors, because he wanted the color red for Ohio State, our favorite college football team.

After our whirlwind Christmas romance and the craziness of Valentine’s Day when I worried the proposal he gave me at Christmas wasn’t real, thinking I lost the family heirloom ring he gave me somewhere inside a stripper, and that we didn’t know each other well enough to be engaged, we spent the week following Valentine’s Day really getting to know each other. We asked every question known to man, and when I asked who his favorite college football team is and we both shouted “Ohio State Buckeyes” at the same time, it solidified the fact that we were meant to be together. That fact was proven even further when I moved in with him and the two of us had so many Ohio State tshirts and sweatshirts, that we made the spare bedroom a Buckeye room. We painted the walls scarlet and grey and the closet held nothing but our OSU gear.

When I mentioned the color choice reason to my mother, she flipped out and started yelling and crying about a football themed wedding and how appalling it would be to have “Shabby Cat” Ohio State decorations.

The tears fall from my eyes, realizing my mother doesn’t just live to drive me crazy. Every once in a while, she actually listens and does something to make me happy. Still ignoring the shouts from behind me, I slowly take in everything around me: The rows of white folding chairs with red, satin ribbons tied around the back with the small, Ohio State “O” symbol nestled in the middle of each bow. The red aisle runner lining the grass in between the seating and leading up to a giant, wooden, block letter “O”, painted red and lined in white. It’s the focal point of the yard and acts as the canopy for us to stand under to say our vows, the bottom cut off so Sam and I can easily walk under it. I gently swipe away more tears when I see a huge, stop and repeat banner off to the side with a life-sized photo of the Horseshoe stadium printed on it, so guests can have their photos taken in front of it.

I feel Sam come up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me back against his wet chest as the two of us quietly look around at what my mother’s done.