Not So Nice Guy(50)

My dad’s brows rise in shock, mainly because Ian had the audacity to call him on his bullshit.

“But as a side note, peace and love get you pretty far in life. Sam and I don’t need much to be happy.” His gaze catches mine and I smile.

My dad grunts, and it’s clear he thinks Ian has a lot of growing up to do.

“Just wait until you have a family to feed. It’s expensive raising kids.”

KIDS.

Heat travels up my neck. We haven’t gotten that far. Ian might not even want kids. I look down at my 3/4 steak and know I won’t be able to force down even one bite.

“We’ll manage, I’m sure,” Ian replies with an amused tone. He hates this. He doesn’t understand why I bother with my parents at all. “I’m thinking if we have 9 or 10 kids we can put them to work as chimney sweeps—”

“Oh, have you two already discussed the future?” my mom interrupts with a high-pitched lilt.

Ian and I lock gazes again and his brows rise. His point is clear: Take the opportunity. It’s now or never.

I set down my fork, take a deep breath, and then proclaim simply, “Ian and I are engaged.”

Cutlery falls to the table dramatically. I glance over and my mom has her hand pressed over her heart in shock. “Engaged?!”

She exclaims the word as if she’s performing for a packed Broadway theatre.

I smile, easy and simple. “Yes. We’re getting married in 72 hours.”

“72? Hours?! What—”

My dad’s question gets cut off by an errant sob from my mom.

“Samantha Grace, what are you talking about? 72 hours?! This is nonsense.” She stands and slams her linen napkin down on the table. “Is this a joke?”

Ian and I both shake our heads.

“We’ve put a lot of thought into this.” All of twenty minutes.

“This is extremely sudden,” she says, pacing and pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. “You two weren’t even dating the last time I checked!”

“Your mother’s right,” my father’s voice booms. “You two need to slow down. We have premarital counseling at the church. It’s a six-week course.”

They’re confused. “We don’t want to wait. We want your support.”

“Well you don’t have it. Please, be rational.”

What she means to say is, Please, do it the exact way your father and I did it. Come in for premarital counseling, don a poofy white dress, and walk down the aisle not too slow but not too fast, all so I can prove to all of our family and friends that I’ve raised a classy young woman, not a heathen who elopes.

“We’ve already made up our minds,” Ian insists with a strong, non-nonsense tone. “We’re going to elope, and we’d love for you two to be there if you’d like. Once we know the time and place, we’ll pass it along.”

“The time and place?!” Her lips tremble. Her hands are shaking. My mom is having a mental breakdown before our very eyes. “You don’t even know that yet?! Good heavens.”

She storms off and starts weeping near the extra salad on the island in the kitchen. My father hurries over to comfort her. I honestly think they’re taking it worse than if I’d told them I had cancer.

“Look what you’re doing to your mother, Samantha,” my dad chides.

All of sudden, I’ve had enough. They’re being ridiculous. I understand needing a few minutes to adjust, but this is taking it to a whole new level. I jerk to stand, causing my chair to tip back and crash to the floor.

“Ian, let’s go. Grab your plate. Yes, take it—and your glass! Here, I’ll help you.”

My arms are loaded up with stolen cutlery and dinnerware as we bolt from the house. My parents are crying as if they’ve lost me forever.

“Sam, are you sure you don’t want to go back in there?” Ian asks after we’ve buckled up.

I shake my head and utter one word.

“Drive.”



Our stolen dinner sits untouched on my coffee table. Ian sits beside me on the couch, and the aftermath of our afternoon and evening has struck us both silent. I was riding a high, running from Principal Pruitt’s office to Sonic to the grocery store to the county clerk’s office. It was the most exciting few hours of my life. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face, and then my parents had to ruin it.

Are they right?

Are we being irrational?

I shift my gaze to Ian and see him staring at the ceiling with his brows furrowed. I think he’s having the same second thoughts I am. Any moment, he’s going to turn, look me square in the eyes, and tell me he doesn’t want to marry me after all. The thought sends a worried tear down my cheek. I swipe it away quickly.

“Do you want kids, Ian?”

He frowns. “You know I do.”

“Do you want them with me?”

“Sam.”

I shake my head and nibble on my bottom lip. “Maybe my parents are right. Maybe this is crazy. I’ve put more thought into the placement of a tattoo I’ll never get than this marriage. This is the rest of our lives we’re talking about.”

“Just because it’s spontaneous doesn’t mean it’s wrong.” He sounds confident. “What would make you feel better?”