This story did not at all go where I first planned it to, but either way I like the final product. Even though it didn't come until five hours of continuous writing -_-". Enjoy! (I don't own HM characters.)
I close my left eye and tilt my head the same direction, twisting my pursed lips. I quickly glance up to see my husband roll his eyes at me, and then I repeat the process with my right eye.
His apathetic voice interrupts my examination, "What are you doing?"
"This isn't going to kill me is it?" I question him.
"Ha, ha," he mocks without changing his tone. "One meal, one trip to the hospital, and now I'll never live it down."
"I couldn't breathe," I remind him.
He throws up his arms defensively; this argument is all too familiar. Say last night familiar, and the night before, and before that… "How was I supposed to know you were allergic to eggplant? Did you know you were allergic to eggplant? Who is allergic to eggplant?"
I chuckle, "So this meal is eggplant-free?"
He nods triumphantly, "Chicken fettuccini sans eggplant."
"No peanut butter either?" I add in.
His triumph is stumped, "Since when are you allergic to peanut butter?"
I shrug, "I'm not." I pause to absorb his annoyed and confused expression. "Simply the idea of peanut butter in fettuccini is unappealing," I end with a grin.
Though he joins my grin, he shakes his head, "You're unappealing."
"Hey! But I'm your wife," I whine in fake offense. 'Unappealing' wouldn't be the worse insult he's sent my way, and let's not even talk about how I've verbally taken him down. We're quite the loving couple…
"Yeah! And I'm your husband. So shut up and eat your fettuccini before it cools." He follows his own instructions by forking a pile of creamy pasta into his mouth.
I follow suit and close my eyes as I enjoy the different spices tingle with my taste buds. They say the quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach but there's a chance it may also be true for women. The love I feel for deliciously prepared fettuccini transfers over to my love for my husband, but then I let my eyes wander to the rest of the room and the loving feeling takes an abrupt end. "I seriously hate this room," I express loudly.
He sighs in response, "Not this again."
"It's just so… uncolored."
He puts his fork down and crosses his arms, "Maybe, just maybe, it's because it has yet to be painted. And maybe that's because you continue to fail to pick a color though we've been in this house for, what, five years?"
I glare at him, "I don't need your attitude."
"True, what you need is to pick a color. And... GO!"
I feel my face go into bewildered mode as my mouth starts shaping the first syllable of different colors, but never fully committing to any of them. I sigh, "I don't know. I can't make impulsive decisions."
At this he raises his eyebrows in disbelief, "Oh really?"
"I can't," I whine.
"Oh really?"
"No. Dear. I. Can't." Has he gone deaf or something?
He takes my hand and gently caresses each finger. When he gets to my third finger he holds on to it and says again, this time with obvious emphasis, "Oh. Really?"
And now that I've finally caught on, I grin widely and shake my head in amusement. He would go back to that…
—6.5yearsago—
POV Switch
She gazed at herself in the mirror and sighed heavily. This was a process she repeated too often, and it did nothing but age her reflection more than necessary. She wasn't that old, only—oh who was she kidding; people didn't place the word 'only' before her age anymore. Heck, even her dirty blonde hair appeared wrinkled. She tucked a portion of it behind her ear and turned away from the disappointing image.
What had happened to her? Just like staring in the mirror, this question went through her mind all too often. She wiped some dust off the frame holding a picture of her family, in other words, of her and her daughter. She sadly chuckled; history had a cruel way of repeating itself. She'd sworn she wouldn't end up like her mother, yet without notice, her life became a rewritten version of her mom's. And now, just like her mother once held high hopes for her, she looked into their long line of blue eyes, this time hidden underneath dark strawberry blonde bangs, and hoped that her recent college graduate would live her own life. Be the Truscott to get it right.
The front door burst open, "Mom?"
She smiled, Speak of the devil. "In the living room."
"Hey mom, you'll never—seriously, never—guess what happened today," her daughter continued to yell as she found her way to the living room.
She only glanced at her daughter, because her eyes were quickly distracted by the brunet stranger she'd dragged along. "Who's…?" She made general hand motions to show her question regarded the boy.
Her daughter grinned from ear to ear, "Okay, here goes. So I was at Starbucks doing some writing, patiently waiting for a friend to show—who never did by the way—but instead this lovely gentleman just sat down in front of me because he apparently hadn't looked up to see the table was occupado. But instead of telling him to get his own spot because I had better things to do than argue with him about being polite, I let him sit there and next thing I know we've spent all day together! It was the most amazing day of my life."
She took a minute break to breathe in and her mother took that opportunity to interrupt this fairytale in the making, "Can we start with names, dear?" She had slightly spaced out on her daughter's tale, for she had been examining the boy quietly smirking next to her.
"Oh that's my bad, Mrs. Truscott," the boy finally spoke, "I'm Ondré but I like to go by Oscar, I feel my parents got a bit too whimsical with my first name. No one can spell it right anyways! Haha… so, um, yeah, Ondré Oscar—"
She didn't want to, but she had to. It was so obvious she wondered how she hadn't fainted the moment he walked in. And now she couldn't stop herself from finishing for him, "—Oken."
"…Yeah..."
Her daughter frowned a bit, though her grin never left her face. In fact it seemed to have widened. "You know his family? Awesome! That makes things so much easier to tell you…"
"Uh, yeah, his, um, dad and I were—wait, what do you need to tell me?" The grin on her daughter's face slightly faded and even Oscar looked nervous. "Holly. Spill."
Holly cleared her throat nervously, "Well, we were talking and joking around. And he tells me about how into art he is and the minute he finds someone that understood it the way he does he'd probably instantaneously marry her. And then I laugh, 'cause you know, I'm an art critic so understanding art is my life. Well, after already spending the entirety of the day together, that was just the epidemy of amazing! So, um, he-happened-to-have-a-ring-with-him-and-I-said-yes?"
"Excuse me?"
Oscar stood a bit straighter, "Look, Mrs. Truscott—"
"Don't you Mrs. Truscott me, Oken!"
Holly spoke aside to Oscar, "She prefers to be called Lilly because Mrs. Truscott's technically my grandma."
"No!" her mother intervened, "Don't call me anything. You don't know me! You don't know her! Who does that? You—and—argh, Holly Fleur Truscott, what were you thinking?"
"Huh, Fleur, pretty," Oscar mumbled.
"Thank you," Holly grinned again forgetting the dilemma they had set up.
"Would you two FOCUS?" Lilly wondered if her daughter was trying to kill her. And him, well, he was an Oken.
"Okay, so I'll admit I didn't put too much thought into it and I know it's a bit impulsive," Holly reasoned.
"A bit?" Lilly raised her eyebrows.
"Right, but listen to this: I was only sitting there today because I was meeting my friend (I usually sit in the back corner), and of all days, someone whose family you apparently know, walks in and happens to have a ring on them! It's so set-up, the stupid decision would have been to walk away from it."
Lilly turned back towards the once-again quieted boy, "Yeah, about that, who 'just happens' to be carrying an engagement ring with them?"
His face dropped slightly, "It, uh, was my mom's. She passed away when I was two. We don't really speak about her, so when my dad gave me this ring this morning I got kinda distraught. Needed some coffee, walked into Starbucks, and yeah…"
"See, crazy huh?"
Lilly ignored her daughter's insight. "Your mom, aw, I'm sorry. The last time I heard about her was through the wedding invite… though I never went. She looked very pretty on the picture though! Fiery red hair and such… Your dad looked happy."
Oscar nodded with a melancholy smile, "Actually, her last year she had dyed her hair blonde. My dad has this run-on gag about how that was the cause of her death, something about bad luck with blondes or something. Yeah, I never bothered to ask about that."
"Wow, sick humor," Holly commented.
"He was never as funny as he thought…" Lilly said absentmindedly.
Holly looked at her mom, "Wow, you know him well—wait, blonde—you wouldn't be"—she gasped exaggeratedly, "Um, mom, when you say you 'know his dad', define know?" Oscar raised his eyebrows in interest.
Lilly sighed as she tried to figure out how to make an extremely long story short. "Well, let's just say if things had gone different—much, much different—you two could have been related. Well, not exactly you of course, different genes and whatnot, but I've always wanted to name my daughter after a flower and he was into his whole Triple O thing so you'd probably have the same names."
The young adults' interested faces quickly fused into horrified. "WHAT?"
"Hey don't you get all upset with me, young lady, you're still in trouble for this whole abrupt engagement thing."
"Okay, okay. Would you please start from the beginning of this wacky story? Thanks," Holly repeated coolly.
Lilly sighed. "Your dad, Oliver Oken," Oscar nodded to confirm the name. "He and I were childhood best friends. Well, pfft, childhood, it was more like since we were five till, what, mid-twenties or so. …Yup."
Holly lifted her jaw only to respond, "How about that whole 'almost related' business?"
"We may have kinda, sorta attempted to date a few times during our college years. But it never came through because our lives were setting off different ways. We continued to be friends, but once we both got married it became a bit difficult. And then he suddenly completely stopped emailing or anything. I was too stubborn and angry to figure out why so I let our friendship go down the toilet, and next thing I know, so did the rest of my life," Lilly mumbled the last bits to herself.
Oscar glanced at Holly questioningly. "My parents got divorced when I was six," she explained. She turned back to her mom, "Maybe we could get you guys to talk again! …You guys would only talk right? I mean, I love you and want the best for you and all, but I'm not sure how that would work for Oscar and me."
"Yeah, incest marriage is kinda looked down upon," Oscar joked.
"Oh don't worry, incest won't be the reason this marriage won't happen," Lilly glared at him.
Holly groaned, "Mom!"
"I don't care how well Oliver and I know, or knew each other. You two don't. At all."
Holly tried again, regaining her calmer tone. "Mom, you're the one always talking about history repeating itself in this family. Maybe this is the generation that's finally getting it right! Fate wants a Truscott-Oken wedding, and fate is finally getting one. Why stop the natural from happening? So yeah we skipped a few steps, but who needs steps! If this is how it's meant to end up, might as well get on with it from Day 1."
Once again Lilly spaced out on her daughter. This was too much to handle at once. She shook her head, "You look so much like him."
He smiled a bit and nodded, "I get that lot ever since I let my hair grow out."
Though she tried to hide it, Lilly was tearing up. What with talking about Oliver again after so many years and that whole period leading up to her divorce. And 'Truscott-Oken wedding', that wasn't the first time she heard that phrase. Possibly her mother's favorite words. She'd relived her mom's life and not done much to improve it. Holly was reliving Lilly's life, but better. She sighed, blinked back a tear, and let her lips slightly curve upwards, "Can you at least… have a long engagement?"
—PresentTime—
Holly's POV
"Okay, so I've made a few impulsive decisions in my life," I intertwine my fingers with his. That's one memory I will never get tired of.
"Uh, yeah, like the most important decision of your life. Our life. Yet you still can't decide on a paint color."
I start to roll my eyes but interrupt it with an idea. "Oscar, what's Oliver's favorite color?"
"Umm, I think it's royal blue or something of that sorts."
"And mom's is forest green!"
"Okay, I needed one color, hun."
I shake my head, "No, they ended up living the rest of their lives alone. We were the ones that finally brought our families together…so, blue-green? That's like…"
"Turquoise," Oscar smiles finally catching on.
I nod and look around, "Turquoise. I can see that." I glance back at him and kiss him, "We make the best decisions together. Crazy maybe but, in the end, so worth it."
Like a 2-in-1 story! I almost scraped this whole thing to turn it into a chapter story because I started getting so many intricate ideas for it but I didn't have the patience to. Hope you liked it, let me know—REVIEW (: xoxCamy