“At least she didn’t decide on a tampon ball,” Eric said, which earned him another elbow in the ribs.
Jace thought Eric’s joke was funny. Either that or jet lag had him delirious. He laughed until he had to wrap his arms around his stomach to hold his merriment in.
“Are you done?” Rebekah asked her husband.
“Do you really need to ask me that?” he countered.
She lifted her eyebrows at him. “Enough with the period jokes already.”
He grinned and nodded. “No problem, babe. I’ll move on to the ball jokes then.”
Rebekah rolled her eyes at him, but Aggie could see the mirth in her expression; she’d be howling along with Jace in no time. Aggie’s sense of humor was a tad less fart-joke, but she loved to see her husband laugh so if he thought grand celebrations about periods and tampons were hilarious, good on him.
“Do you want to come see the decorations? They turned out really neat,” Rebekah said. “Charity is a miracle worker.”
“We need to meet with that miracle worker about the ceremony tomorrow,” Aggie said, “but we’ll stop by the hall on our way out.”
“Awesome,” Rebekah said. She hugged Aggie with excitement. “I’m so happy for you, hon. And you know I adore Jace almost as much as Eric does.”
Aggie patted Rebekah’s back a little. She wasn’t much of a hugger. Though sometimes Aggie wanted to squeeze the stuffing out of Jace, she preferred to avoid personal contact with others as much as possible. And she’d been damned good at maintaining her distance from people until Jace Seymour entered her life.
“This place is so perfect for the exchange of your wedding vows,” Rebekah said, forcing Jace to accept a hearty squeeze. He wasn’t much of a hugger either and patted her back much the way Aggie had.
Eric gave Jace a bro tap with his knuckles and then swept his wife against his side and led her in the opposite direction, testing several ball jokes on her. At least that’s what Aggie thought he was whispering that had her laughing so hard.
“I suppose we have to go to this Halloween party thing,” Jace said. “Since they went to all that trouble.”
“We should have a few hours between this meeting and when we have to attend the costume ball. I’m sure we can find time to take a little nap between now and then. Get you out of your jet-lag funk or whatever it is that has you so spacy since we arrived.”
“A nap is exactly what I need,” he said.
“Wow!” Aggie’s mom hollered just inside the entrance. “These people must be fucking loaded!”
Aggie winced and pivoted toward her mother. Aggie waved her toward them so she could put a gag over her gigantic mouth if necessary. Mom hurried to catch up, and then linked one elbow through Aggie’s arm and the other through Jace’s.
“Exactly how much money do you rock stars make, Maynard? How can you afford to rent this place? You’re just a bassist.”
“Mother!”
“Did you add Agatha to your checking account?” she asked Jace.
“I—uh…”
Jace’s face was the color of a tomato.
“I asked him not to, okay?” Aggie said. “Don’t ask him questions like that.”
“Why not? He’s family.”
“And he’s probably wishing he wasn’t.”
“It’s cool,” he said. “I don’t mind sharing. Uh, I make more than a paper boy and less than Bill Gates.”
Aggie grinned, loving how he handled her mother. He was actually much better at it than she was.
“So closer to Bill Gates than a paper boy, am I right?” her mother said and laughed hysterically. Aggie was starting to wonder if she’d hit the wet bar while she’d been collecting her smokes from their rented cottage.
“Probably closer to the paper boy,” Jace said.
“Huh…” Mom said, rubbing her nose on her shoulder. “Well, that’s disappointing. Better luck next time, Ag.”
“There isn’t going to be a next time. Jace is mine for life.” Aggie tilted her head to smile at him around her mother’s slim form, but he was too busy blushing to back her claim.
“Well, I hope you don’t have to go back to stripping to support his musician habit. I once dated a singer, you know,” she told Jace. “Well, date is a strong word. Got knocked up by a singer. He was a total deadbeat. I heard being a deadbeat is common in your profession.” She finger-quoted profession.
That’s it. I’m going to kill her.
“Aggie’s father?” Jace asked, not batting an eyelash at Mom’s string of insults.
“That would be the deadbeat in question,” she said and glanced around. “Where is this lady you’re meeting? In Africa? I’m going to need to go out and have another cigarette soon.”
“Well, don’t let us stop you,” Aggie said.
Their event planner, Charity, stepped out of a corridor to their left.
“There you are!” she said. “I was afraid you got turned around and ended up in the dungeon.”
“Aggie would be right at home there,” Mom said and guffawed at her own humor.
“Charity,” Aggie said, “this is my mother, Tabitha.”
“Nice to meet you,” the sophisticated woman—who Aggie estimated to be around the same age as Mom—said. “Welcome to Sudeley Castle. Have you had a chance to explore the grounds and the building?”
“Not yet.”
“You should have a look,” Charity said. “Mr. and Mrs. Sticks went all out for the rehearsal dinner. Normally we don’t do costume parties on Halloween, but your best man is very persuasive. Not to mention handsome.” She giggled and touched her fingertips to her suddenly ruddy cheeks.