Heaven Can't Wait by Pamela Clare

She vaguely remembered getting into bed with him, both of them too drunk to do more than fall asleep. She sat up with a groan, took the tablets, popped them into her mouth, then drank.
    The water felt like salvation. She drained every drop and fell back on her pillow, in agony. “How come you’re on your feet? You were in lots worse shape than I was.”
    “Practice. Some rumors about football players are true.”
    The next time she awoke, her face was pressed into Will’s chest, his arms wrapped around her. She might have enjoyed being close to him had the throbbing in her head not been so terrible. It was pounding so hard, she could hear it.
    Pounding. Ringing. More pounding.
    Someone was at the door.
    Will groaned. “Christ!”
    Because he’d brought her water, she forced herself out of bed and into her robe, then stumbled through the darkened condo toward the brain-piercing noise coming from the front door. She glanced through the peephole, felt her stomach hit the floor.
    More impatient pounding.
    Reluctantly, she slid back the bolt and opened the door. “Really, Melisande, did you have to keep me waiting?”
    “Mother.”
     
    “We should set her up in a hotel.” Will ran the comb through his wet hair, his temper only slightly worse than his hangover. “It’s not like she warned us she was coming.”
    “But what if she really has accepted our marriage and just wants to get to know you?”
    He heard the hope in Lissy’s voice, and anger with Christa Charteris swirled black in his gut. He knew she hadn’t changed her mind about the marriage and suspected she’d come to make trouble. But he wouldn’t be able to explain his hostility toward her without also letting Lissy know the woman had tried to bribe him, and he didn’t want to hurt Lissy.
    “Then I guess she can stay in the guest room.” He set the comb aside, pulled Lissy into his arms and kissed her forehead. “If she hurts you or tries to interfere with the wedding, I’ll stuff her and her designer luggage into a cab bound for the airport. I mean that, Lissy.”
    “Don’t worry, Will. I can handle my mother.”
    Will worried, but then something occurred to him. If Mrs. Charteris slept in the guest room, Lissy would have no choice but to crawl back in bed with him.
     
    Lissy shut the door behind her, the bedroom now a refuge. She undressed, put on the old T-shirt she’d been sleeping in and hung her clothes in the closet. Then she crawled into bed and tried to relax, listening to the rumble of approaching thunder.
    A part of her wished she’d followed Will’s suggestion and banished her mother to a hotel. Her mother had been with them for four days, and Lissy’s patience was shredded. Though her mother hadn’t done anything unforgivably horrid and had even managed to be pleasant at times, she hadn’t been easy to have around.
    The first thing she’d done was to insist upon meeting with the wedding planner. When Lissy had assured her everything was in good hands and declined even to give her the phone number, she’d acted insulted—as if being the mother of the bride meant something after six months of trying to get the bride to call off the wedding. Then she’d watched with a knowing look on her face while Lissy had changed the sheets on the bed in the guest room.
    “Sleeping apart already, I see.”
    “It’s not what you think, Mother. Will and I are simply abstaining from sex until after the wedding in order to make things a bit more traditional and romantic.”
    Her mother hadn’t said a word, but the look on her face hadn’t changed.
    After work on Monday, they’d taken her to their favorite seafood place, where they’d had a good enough time. Her mother had asked Will polite questions about his job at the paper and what it was like to do live television. Though she’d complained about her salmon and the service, she’d also complimented Will’s choice of wine. But when they’d taken her for a stroll down the 16th