Free Nearlyweds by Beth Kendrick Page B

anything. She unpacked everything—the kitchen, the bedroom, my vibrator —”
    Casey made a face. “Oog.”
    “Hang on, wait for it: she even made our bed. In the same sheets that she used when she married David’s father.”
    “Ew,” I blurted out. “I thought you said his father was dead?”
    “His father is dead. But apparently, she saved their marital bedding. She wanted us to consummate our marriage on the same sheets David was conceived on.”
    Casey spat a mouthful of wine back into her glass. “That is disgusting.”
    “I know.” Erin nodded.
    “No, I mean, that is really disgusting. Sick, depraved, wrong on so many levels…”
    “I know,” Erin repeated. “Paging Dr. Freud.”
    I couldn’t get the picture of threadbare, faded sheets out of my head. “Did she actually say all that?”
    Erin smiled grimly. “Clearly, you’ve never met Renée. She said all that and more. She will not rest until I quit my job and procreate. I’ve told her a thousand times that I just finished my residency and I spend all day dealing with other people’s sick, cranky children, which tends to muffle my own biological clock, but she’s not having it. And I haven’t even told you about the time she tried to kill me.”
    “Shut up!” I said. “She did not.”
    “She absolutely did. I have a severe peanut allergy, as she is very well aware, and what do you think she tried to slip into every single side dish last Thanksgiving?”
    “Really?” I breathed.
    “David had to stab me in the thigh with my EpiPen on her dining room floor.”
    “Maybe it was an accident,” I said.
    Erin and Casey exchanged that superior, knowing look again. “So naïve.”
    “I’m not naïve!”
    “Honey, does your mother-in-law live here in town with you?”
    “Mark’s mom died before I met him,” I admitted.
    “You are so lucky.” Erin held out her wineglass to Casey for a refill.
    “Yeah, you are,” Casey seconded. “You hit the jackpot. New house, luxury hotels, no mother-in-law…if it weren’t for the dog, your marriage would be perfect.”
    I took a tiny sip of wine.
    “If Nick and I had the kind of money you and Mark have, we wouldn’t have to worry about my business all the time. He could stop working in his dad’s office. All our problems would be solved. We’d never fight again.”
    Erin doubled over in a sudden coughing fit.
    “What?” Casey blushed. “It’s true.”
    “Did I say anything?” Erin croaked. “No. But let’s face it: Every marriage has problems.”
    “If it weren’t for Renée, you and David wouldn’t have issues,” Casey said. “You guys are made for each other.”
    Erin developed an intense interest in the tablecloth’s lacework.
    I glanced down at my flat, empty, nonpregnant belly. “My marriage isn’t perfect, believe me.”
    Casey snorted. “Please. Your biggest problems are like, ‘Should we go to St. Thomas or St. Croix for Easter?’”
    I opened my mouth to correct her but couldn’t force out the words. How could I admit that everything was going wrong with Mark? That saying “I do,” might have been the biggest mistake of my life?
    “So what are you guys going to do?” I asked softly. “About the marriage certificate screwup? You’re both going to get remarried?”
    “Of course,” Erin and Casey chorused.
    “Yeah, me too,” I agreed quickly.
    “I mean, it would be pretty sad if Nick and I couldn’t even last three months.” Casey’s laugh sounded forced.
    “How pathetic would it be if I let a bunch of hand-me-down sheets break up my marriage?” Erin added.
    “I’d definitely do it all over again,” Casey said.
    “Me, too.” Erin nodded.
    “Good.” I looked around the table. “We’re happy. We’re all happy.”
    “Yep.”
    “Absolutely.”
    “Never been better.”
    There was a long pause.
    I cracked first. “Mark had a vasectomy and didn’t tell me until our wedding night.”
    Casey covered her face with her hands. “I pressured Nick