Terror in the Shadows vol. 10: Terror in the Shadows Anthology

189 pages

In-Laws

“Are you sure you’re alright, darling?” Always a stickler for manners, Rutherford unlocked their apartment door and stepped aside to let her enter first. “There’s still time to check a few more stores.”

The secondhand dress didn’t have a coat hanger for him to utilize, and he honestly seemed at a loss for what to do with it for a second. Eventually, he folded it over the back of the couch, smoothing it down with more care than the fabric needed or deserved.

Flopping onto the couch, she rested her chin on the backing and smiled up at him. “It’s fine, really.”

Rutherford smoothed the dress again for a second before his dark eyes met hers, “You deserve a beautiful wedding dress. One like…”

“Like the one your mother shredded?” Cookie prompted, careful to keep her voice light. “Yeah. It was a pretty dress. And expensive. I don’t want to splash out that much on another dress.”

“We have funds.”

“You have the funds.”

“Yes, well,” He leaned across the couch to place a swift kiss on her lips. “Tomorrow, everything I have will be yours. There is no argument here, darling. I’ll give you anything you desire.”

She hummed thoughtfully, “What do I desire?”

“Oh,” wickedness danced in his eyes. “The possibilities. I’m dizzy with anticipation.”

Cookie shook her head and slumped against the couch. “I want you to get on board with my replacement dress.”

“Oh. That’s rather anticlimactic.”

“Rutherford, we have what? Three hours until stores close? Our wedding is tomorrow. I don’t want to spend the entire day looking for a replacement dress. I know, a secondhand prom dress isn’t exactly in keeping with the aesthetic your parents planned for our wedding.” Which is a huge side bonus. Her future in-laws had taken over everything, down to the dress, which they had promptly destroyed in a last-ditch attempt to get her to postpone the ceremony. “This one fits, it’s here, and it covers my modesty. That’s the trifecta.”

Rutherford sighed through his nose and reluctantly scanned the admittedly tacky dress.

“Red is my favorite color,” he said at last.

“See? It’s perfect. Admittedly, it’s a lot of lace.”

“Yes, the lace bodice is rather distracting.” He licked his full bottom lip before startling himself from his thoughts. “I want you to be happy.”

“Then show up tomorrow and sign on the dotted line. That’s all I need.”

“That’s it?” He chuckled. “No other grand requests? I’m sure I can find some diamonds lying around if you’re in the mood for a crown.”

Cookie dismissed it as a joke, although she was pretty sure his parents had a vault full of priceless artifacts. “Um, is it possible you could get your parents to say my name without cringing?”

“I might be able to reduce the visible cringe.” He lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles. “Cookie is a rather rare name. It takes some getting used to.”

“Alright there, Rutherford.”

“That is a family name.”

It was impossible not to laugh at the sheer indignation in his tone.

“Alright, how about this then. Why exactly do your parents hate me? I mean, I get them not wanting you slumming it with the peasants. And, yeah, you’re kinda out of my league.”

“Hardly,” he cut in.

She continued before he thought she was looking for reassurance. She wanted the truth.

“Your parents took a knife to my wedding dress the day before our wedding. A knife. That’s personal—and a truck ton of red flags that I really shouldn’t be around your mother.”

In an instant, Rutherford had rounded the couch to sit down beside her, clasping both of her hands in his own, “You’re not having second thoughts, are you?”

“Not about you. You’re creepily perfect.”

“Creepily?”

“I think it’s an accurate description.”

He ducked his head as he chuckled, his thumbs rubbing circles around her knuckles. “I think you might have accidentally stumbled upon why they don’t think we’re a good match, darling.”

“You’ve lost me.”

Taking a deep breath, he glanced over his shoulder, as if needing to reassure himself that the red dress was still there. After a moment of hesitation, conviction hardened his tone.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“Alright,” she prodded at his sudden hesitation.

“It’s this strange little thing my parents say. And they only ever say it to me, like a private joke, and for most of my life, I thought that was all it was. There’s no way it could possibly be true.” He said the last sentence to himself, his eyes growing distant and worried. “Lately, however, they’ve become rather insistent. They’re so mentally stable in every other regard that I can’t believe they’re mad. Though they sounded like it yesterday.”

“Rutherford, you can tell me. We’re in this together, remember?”

“Yes, darling.” His weak smile disappeared when he kissed her knuckles again. “Of course. Okay, well, my parents believe that I was a miracle.”

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