Page 73 of The Wrong Guy
“The property,” she says deliberately. “It’s in Lucy Blivings’s name.”
A bomb might as well have gone off, because we’re all dead silent. “Seriously?” I echo. “Why would Jed do that? Putting property in Lucy’s name seems premature, right?”
Wren looks around the room, judging each person’s trustworthiness again before she speaks, still keeping it general enough to have plausible deniability if called on it. “Someone might do that to hide property so it’s not included in a divorce.”
The ramifications of that sink in. “Shiiiit, what do you want to do?”
Still thinking, she mutters under her breath, “I wonder if Lucy even knows?”
Maggie sighs heavily and reveals, “I’d bet not. He forged Chrissy’s signature once to set up an LLC, and when I questioned it, he told me to just do the notary stamp.” She slows down, making sure we understand how offensively bad this next part is. “Because it was ‘financial stuff above my head’ and ‘I shouldn’t worry.’” She rolls her eyes. “As if there was anything he ever did that was over my head. I swear, the man can’t add two plus two sometimes. But I didn’t do the notary then, and didn’t do the one a few months later to move the properties back into Jed’s name.”
“How do you know he did that, then?” I ask.
Maggie’s answer is simple. “I basically ran the company.”
Wren’s quiet for a long moment while Christiana and Maggie check the remaining properties. There are several that have legally and correctly sold to others, but there are five in Lucy’s name, all high-value properties.
I watch as Wren’s stress level climbs, her eyes going flinty and hard as she stares at the decree in her hand. Finally, when they’re done confirming ownership of all the properties, we look to Wren for guidance.
“I need to talk to Lucy,” she says finally.
I hold my hand up, ready to make her smile. “I have an idea for that.”
“Cupcakes or cookies?” Mom asks as soon as Wren and I walk through the door at the Bakery Box. Food, especially sweets, is her love language, so she instantly tries to feed us.
“Maybe later,” I tell Mom. “First, we wanted to talk to you about something.”
She grins maniacally and starts clapping. “Of course I’ll do the wedding cake. I’ve already been thinking about it. How about a twist on a hummingbird cake? I can do a rum soak on the pineapple and candy the pecans with cinnamon sugar. I think it’ll be perfect for you ... a little sweet, a little sour, and a little spicy.”
My head drops, my chin hitting my chest as my eyes close. I cannot believe her. She’s gonna have us married before we get out on a real date with me picking Wren up, taking her to dinner, and back home. One large breath for calm and sanity, and I pin Mom with a glare. “Whatever’s going on in your head, shut that shit down. That’s not why we’re here.”
Mom’s jaw drops as she makes a sound of displeasure. “Don’t talk to me like that, Jesse Sullivan. I brought you into this world, and I can take you out ... and I don’t mean to dinner, young man.” Her head’s swiveling, and her expression has taken on that “try me” threatening vibe that all moms magically master on day one. She’s the one trying to marry me off in record time, yet somehow, I’m the one in trouble.
Wren’s fighting back laughter, barely succeeding at keeping her lips pressed together.
“Sorry,” I say just to move on. “Mom, focus. Remember when Chrissy came in here snooping around, you said that you knew exactly where to send her because Lucy placed a delivery order?”
She’s slow to answer, looking at me like I might implicate her in a felony crime if she answers that question honestly. Or maybe she’s just still pissy about me calling her out. “Yeaaah?”
“Is Donny still delivering pregnancy treats to her? Where is she now?”
Mom huffs out a laugh, her face morphing into something akin to offense. “Not like you suddenly decide, midpregnancy, that something else is tastier than my Blue Balls lemon-blueberry cake pops.”
I look to Wren, silently asking if she’s sure of her plan. This could backfire big-time, and if it does, she’ll be the one in trouble. And Jed will most definitely pursue every legal avenue to make Wren pay. Hell, I wouldn’t put it past him to use some illegal options too.
But badass that she is, she steps right up to Mom’s display case. “Can I send a batch of Blue Balls to Lucy, please? I have a private note to include. Inside the box, where only she’ll see it.”
“Oh, shit, Wren. Are you sure about that?” Mom asks, looking extremely uncomfortable with the idea.
Wren nods. “Yes, ma’am. Completely sure.”
Mom leans to the right to look around Wren and meet my eyes. “Jesse, if you don’t marry her, I will. Let me box up some balls and call Donny for a special delivery!”
Mom seems almost giddy about the whole thing now that she’s seen Wren’s game face. But I’ve known all along that my little bird is awesome. That’s why I’ve had so many doubts, because Wren is the woman so many people want, the total package of brains, beauty, and the perfect amount of crazy to keep things interesting. And though I’m not chopped liver, there aren’t a whole lot of guys who’d live up to being at Wren’s side long-term. She shines so bright, which can be intimidating as fuck, but I want to support her in that. Hell, I’ll do what I can to help her shine even brighter if that’s what she wants.
I just hope that after all this is over, she doesn’t realize that I’m just a dirty guy who works with his hands, hasn’t read a literature book since high school, and is too possessive to be totally sane, and decide that I’m not good enough for her.
While we wait for Mom to work her magic, I wrap my arms around Wren’s shoulders and pull her back to me. “So how do you feel about hummingbird cake?” I tease. “Remix style?”