by Mia Kayla
I sat back, taking in the scent of coffee filtering through the air, as my tiramisu was being torn apart. Not a crumb was left on my plate.
Albert, Josh’s dad, had said something to make his daughter laugh, and I studied their interaction. Their family functioned happily without the weight of their grandfather. The only good thing about their dear old grandpa was that he didn’t live nearby.
“You didn’t like your dessert?” Josh tilted his head toward my empty plate.
“Yeah. Worst cake ever.” I scrunched my face, and he laughed. Though, honestly, I could’ve made a better tiramisu at home.
He pushed his plate toward me. “Here, Princess. All yours.”
Josh was the epitome of kindness, always so giving, when I felt like I gave nothing back.
I pushed his plate back in his direction. “It’s okay.”
He stared at me for a moment before both dimples popped up on display. His eyes reminded me of dark cocoa beans.
My curiosity piqued. “Do you look like your mom?”
Albert spoke up, “Yes. Carbon copy. From those dimples to the curl in his hair to his personality. He is his mother’s son through and through.” Albert peered up at his son, as though he were a trophy. “His sense of humor, too.” His voice was full of pride.
“Aw, shucks.” Josh ducked his head, feigning shyness.
I laughed.
“Dad, tell Sam how you and Mom met.” Casey scooted to the edge of her seat, her eyes bright. “I make him tell this story to everyone who hasn’t heard it yet because it’s the sweetest thing.” She rested her elbows on the table and leaned in. “I wished Robert’s and my story was as romantic.” She sighed wistfully.
“Really, Case?” Josh asked.
She motioned with her hands. “Yes, Dad. Now, go.” She knocked on the dining table, her eyes expectantly waiting on her father.
“We were at a sandwich shop.” A slight smile touched Albert’s lips. “I was with my buddies, and she was ordering in front of us. She was strikingly beautiful. Drop-dead gorgeous.” His eyes twinkled with an inner glow as he recalled the memory. “Lucky for me, the two guys with me already had girlfriends. Well, she ordered a meatball sub with sugar on top.”
Josh laughed beside me. “Mother had a crazy sweet tooth.” He pointed to himself. “Just like me.”
“She had to repeat it a few times because the server thought he had heard her wrong. She repeated it loud and clear the second time, and when he laughed, she shrugged and said, ‘What’s wrong with wanting everything sweet?’ And then she brought out her coin purse and proceeded to pay for her three-dollar sandwich with change.”
Deep chuckles escaped him. “I stepped in, thinking I was all debonair and suave, and threw a ten at the guy at the register. She swiped at my hand and gave me the look of death. Anyone else would’ve been frightened. But, to me, she looked like a kitten pretending to be a lion.”
His facial features fell, his eyes staring, unfocused at the table. “She told me she didn’t need my money, and if I really wanted to help, I should help her count her pennies. And so I did.” He touched his hand to his heart. “That’s how I knew I was in love.”
“Why was she paying with coins?” I asked.
“She told me she saved her dollars to deposit at the bank. She paid for food with her coins.” His gaze became unfocused, and his smile faltered.
“We talked for hours that night. I loved listening to her. She had the most beautiful voice and animated face. While she was telling me her life story, I was wondering how I could get this girl to marry me.” His voice turned quiet. “I didn’t want the night to end. My friends had left, and the sandwich shop was about to close up. I’d never been nervous about asking girls out before, but Kathy…she was different.”
He stared at his napkin, hard, like he was reliving the moment. “And then I manned up and asked her out, but she denied me, telling me she didn’t want to date until she was done with school. I asked her if she meant high school or college. Not that it mattered because I would’ve waited forever for her.” He lifted his eyes and scanned our faces. “She said she hadn’t decided yet when she would be ready for dating.”
A sad smile touched his lips. “I panicked when it was time to leave, and I asked her for her number, which she refused to give me. Grasping at straws, I asked her when she’d be back at the sandwich shop. She told me it was her regular stop every Wednesday after class. So, every Wednesday after school, I would be there, helping her count her pennies.”
The table turned silent, and the mood became somber. I could feel how much they missed her. It was in Casey’s glossed over eyes and in Josh’s slight smile as he focused on his father.
“She sounds like a wonderful woman,” I said.
“She was. She was…she was my person. My soul mate.” Albert let out a long sigh and stood. His eyes misted from the memory of her. “Excuse me for a minute.”
After he walked out of the dining room, Casey ran after him. Josh’s stare dropped to the table, his eyes glossed over.
I touched his hand, breaking him from his trance. “It’s a beautiful memory.”
“It is.” He picked up a crumb from the table and flicked it to the side. “Casey loves hearing it.” He blew out a breath. “But, why does she put him through that?”
I knew why. “Because that’s all she has of her mother, Josh. Memories.”
If I had someone to tell me stories of my mom, I’d ask them to repeat them over and over again. It had been only my mom and me and the dad I never talked to anymore.
His eyebrows pulled together, as though he were contemplating. “Sometimes, I wonder if memories, even happy ones, are a good thing when she’s dead.”
“You can’t think of it like that.”
His eyes met mine, and he tightened his hold on my hand. “Yeah, but memories only remind you of what you once had, of how happy you used to be. I don’t know if I can be that guy who lives in his past.”
I leaned my head against his shoulder, wanting to take his pain, even for just a second.
When I thought of my mother and all the happy times we’d shared, I couldn’t imagine not having those memories to get me through the tough days.
But there was some truth to what Josh was saying.
And, when I thought of Hawke, Josh’s words never rang truer.
I needed to let go of my past and move into the future.
The doorbell rang, and my stomach jumped to my throat. I flattened my hands against my half-slip black silk dress that lay mid thigh, and then I put on one last coat of mascara before glancing back at myself in the mirror.
Chloe had curled my hair to perfection and had pulled back half of it from my face into a beautiful waterfall braid. I swore, she needed to work part-time as a hairdresser and makeup artist or a personal shopper.
I ran into the living room, noticing that Chloe was watching her favorite show. “Thanks for getting the door,” I sassed.
“Sorry, I’m just so engrossed in all that is Jamie Fraser.” She exhaled an exaggerated sigh.
I laughed. “Yeah, yeah.”
I pulled open the door and blinked. My mouth might have dropped open, too.
Josh was standing in front of me, all six feet of hotness and all GQ. I blew out a silent breath. God, he was handsome. Not that I hadn’t noticed before. But with his black fitted suit pants replacing his jeans, the sharp suit jacket and snug white button-down replacing his usual T-shirt, and his styled hair no longer covered with a hat, he looked magazine-worthy gorgeous.
A blush touched my cheeks, and I sucked in a breath because he had totally caught me gawking.
His fist flew to his mouth before he turned to walk away and then flipped back, strolling toward me. “Hot damn, girl. You look…you look…wow.”
The flush on my cheeks heated to Crayola crayon pink. “You and your lines,” I said, trying to calm my racing heart.
“Let me try a different approach.” He slowly walked towa
rd me.
With each of his steps forward, goose bumps prickled my skin. I was aware of his whole proximity, of all of him, more than I ever had been.
He towered over me, rested one arm over the doorframe, crossed his ankles, and angled closer. “Hey.”
His face was so serious, but his moves were super corny, like he was on some movie set from the fifties. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
“Hey,” I replied, moving to make room to let him pass. “We’re late.”
I reached for his arm and pulled him in the door. He almost tripped, staggering inside. His suave demeanor disappeared from the abrupt movement.
I wanted to laugh again, but if we didn’t leave in about two seconds, we’d be late for the ceremony, and I wanted to see Candice walking down the aisle.
“My shoes, my shoes!” I scoured the living room for the black pumps with red bows. I swore, I’d seen them in here just a few days ago.
Chloe tilted her head, and a strange look spread on her face. “What did you say they looked like?”
I threw my hands in the air as Josh chuckled behind me.
“They had bows, Chloe!”
She hit her forehead and stood from the couch. “I wore those yesterday. Duh!” She laughed like it was no big deal that she hadn’t just taken my new shoes that I’d bought specifically for Candice’s wedding.
“Really?” I asked, incredulous.
Emerging from her bedroom, she found them in a snap and swaggered over to me, the straps swinging on her two fingers.
“Wow.” I shook my head.
My best friend seriously had no tact. Yes, we practically shared everything, but there had to be a line drawn somewhere.
“At least she broke them in for you,” Josh said, making Chloe laugh. “Made them easier to walk in?”
Always a silver lining with this boy.
Chloe threw him a thumbs-up. “See? At the end of it all, I’m looking out for you.” She lifted her toes and wiggled them. “I’ve got blisters to prove it.”
I rolled my eyes in exaggeration.
Josh offered his arm, and I used his bicep to steady myself as I slipped my feet into the four-inch stilettos.
When I stood steady, Josh let out a low whistle.
Chloe clapped and did a little jump. “Damn, you look hot. Hold up, so I can take a picture of you two. It looks like you’re going to a red-carpet event.”
Josh wrapped one arm around my lower back and pulled me into him. I felt his fingertips press against my waist and his minty soft breath against my temple. I angled closer to get a whiff of his cologne. He never wore cologne. There was a hint of sweetness and a touch of spice. It was intoxicating—the scent of him and the nearness of him.
Chloe held up her phone and I smiled.
When I peered up at Josh, my breath caught. He was staring directly at me, no smile on his face, and his eyes held a certain emotion I couldn’t place.
I cleared my throat. “Okay, let’s get going, or we’ll miss one of my favorite parts—when she enters the church.”
He nodded, his usual joking self gone. He intertwined our fingers. For the first time since he’d reached for my hand in the shoe department to check out my palm, nervous butterflies stirred in my stomach, the calmness from his touch not there.
Lately, I’d been sensing that things between us were shifting. It was in his intense gaze when we were watching TV or baking. It was in his lingering touches or his need to touch me when I simply passed by him. The world around me was changing—or more, our world was. And, for once, I wanted to see where it would lead.
We walked out the door, hand in hand. Josh only released me to open the passenger car door.
The drive would take forty-five minutes, but as I stayed quiet, the radio playing in the background, I realized this was one of the reasons I enjoyed his company. There were no forced conversations, no fakeness to fill the air. It was just him and me in the silence. A comfortable silence. Yes, the banter was there, but sometimes, it wasn’t, and that was okay.
When we parked at the parking lot of the church in St. Charles, Josh rushed to open my door. I stepped out, pulling in the long winter-white peacoat that Chloe had lent me. The frigid air nipped at my skin. The frosty wind brushed against my bare legs.
After slipping my hand through Josh’s, we headed inside.
I couldn’t help but gawk at the church’s beauty. Deep red and orange stained glass adorned the windows. I tipped my head back, appreciating the colors against the blue sky above us. The gray bricked structure steepled to a peak, pointing to the heavens.
“Gosh, this church is so beautiful. I love the architecture.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “My mom and dad got married at a small church—another way to piss off my grandparents. They wanted a big wedding for their only son, and my mother wanted simple and just the two of them.”
I tightly squeezed his hand. Every time he talked about his mom, there was a sense of sadness in his eyes but also great joy. It was funny how you could reminisce about the good when someone was gone even though their absence could still bring you grief.
As we walked up the sidewalk, he continued, “I’ll have to take you there sometime. It’s in a tiny suburb, about two hours outside of Manhattan.”
“I’d love to go there,” I said honestly.
“There are six pews, and the most elaborate thing inside the church is the altar, which is a thick slab of wood with the cross sitting in the center.”
I swung our hands together. “It sounds amazing. It’s the little things that give a place character.” A small thrill rushed through my skin. I enjoyed seeing bits and pieces of Josh’s life.
He released me when he opened the door, but once we were inside, his hand went into mine, like magnets meant to unite.
“Yes, it is. The little things,” he said quietly.
My free hand flew to my chest as I lifted my eyes to take everything in. The exterior did not do the church justice. More stained glass windows lined the walls, and the vaulted ceiling had detailed paintings of angels and clouds. My heels clip-clopped against the marble floor as Josh led me down the aisle. We rushed to sit down, and once we did, Pachelbel’s Canon in D began to play in the background.
When the doors opened and the congregation stood, I tiptoed to see if I could get a good peek at Candice. I saw the top of her hair bunched in beautiful dark curls, but I couldn’t see her face. She walked with her usual bounce but with grace, as though she were floating on air. I caught a glimpse of her father when they passed us, his eyes red from tears.
And then I saw her.
She looked exquisite.
Her white apron was now replaced with a stunning white gown. The beaded trumpet dress hugged the contours of her body until mid hip and then gradually widened to the hem. A trail four feet long was being towed behind her.
My lips quivered, and when I saw the brightness in her eyes and the smile on her face as she stared directly down the aisle to the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with, I lost it. I swiped at my tears, ecstatic and beyond happy for my friend.
She was beauty personified.
Strong, warm hands wrapped around my waist and pulled me back against a chest.
I peered up at Josh, a little embarrassed that he’d seen me shed tears. “I’m such a sap.”
He chuckled. “Nothing wrong with that.” He extended his hand and offered a light-red handkerchief.
“Where did you get this?” I asked, slightly amused.
“My suit pocket.”
“Oh, I didn’t even notice. I didn’t think boys carried these anymore.”
“Boys probably don’t,” he said in a tone like another line was coming. But he was serious and sweet. “Men, yes. Plus, what can I say? I’m old school.”
I blew my nose, snot and all, and he made a face.
“Yeah, you can totally keep that,” he said.
When Candice and Jerry faced each other and recited their tr
aditional vows, claiming to love each other through sickness and health, in good times and in bad, I teared up again.
When Josh offered me another handkerchief, I turned toward him, eyes wide. “Where are you getting all of these?”
And that was when he pulled out another one from the inside of his suit pocket, like a clown with endless silk coming from his sleeve.
He shrugged and faced the front of the church.
After Candice and Jerry kissed and were pronounced husband and wife, the congregation cheered. Josh cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered.
When they walked down the aisle, followed by the wedding party, I slipped my arm through Josh’s and swaggered out with them to the “Wedding March.”
The sun was shining brightly, beating down on us, like God was in agreement and showering his blessing down on them. I smiled big, knowing everything was right in the world.
Chaos surrounded Candice, and I doubted my ability to squeeze through her family and friends to congratulate her.
So, I pointed my thumb toward the car. “Reception?”
“Yes, let’s.” He grinned. “Your carriage—also known as the Beemer—awaits.”
I laughed, not remembering the last time I felt this happy. “Let’s go, my Prince Charming.”
He chuckled. “That, I am, babe. That, I am.”
Chapter 7
As I sat back, fully satisfied with my dinner, I took in the decor of the reception hall. I’d noticed it when I first arrived, but I’d been too hungry to really appreciate the touches of Candice everywhere.
Every table was adorned with a tall arrangement of peonies, and aside from the black table linens and black silk chair covers, everything was tastefully done in different arrays of blushes, light pinks, and deep pinks. The signing table was decorated with their pictures in pink-ribboned frames, and even the straws for our drinks were pink.
