by AC Netzel
“You look fine. Come.” I tug her hand, push the door open, and drag her in. Elizabeth and Stuart are sitting at the bar, each holding a glass of wine.
“Squeee!” Elizabeth shrieks with a migraine inducing shrill upon spotting us. She flies off her barstool and makes a mad dash to Camille. “Squeee, you’re here!”
Sheesh, enough with the ‘Squeees’ already.
“Julia invited me,” Camille tells her, looking back at me with a look of wonder and appreciation.
Elizabeth’s eyes widen and she jerks her head back slightly. Yeah, I can’t believe I did it either. She smiles gratefully at me then grabs Camille for herself. “Let’s get you a drink,” she says as she drags Camille to the bar.
“Hey there, pretty lady. What’s your pleasure? Sex on the Beach? Maybe a glass of wine? If you empty the bottle, we can spin it later.” Jake obnoxiously winks at Camille, who giggles in response.
Stuart raises a brow and smirks, sauntering to my side. “Camille?”
“Yeah, go figure.”
“You, my dear Mrs. Martin, are a class act.”
“I’m sure it’s temporary. All the sangria and champagne has clouded my judgment.”
“Whatever you say.” He nudges me with his shoulder. “Sis-in-Law.”
“That’s my story.” I nudge him back. “Bro-in-Law.”
Sometimes doing the right thing isn’t easy. But you do it... because in the end, you have to live with your conscience.
~o0o~
“Why is she here?” Ben scowls, eying Camille.
“I saw her watching us from the window. I felt bad.”
“Julia,” he cautions.
“Ben, she needed this.”
“If she so much as looks at you the wrong way,” he warns, “I will personally throw her out.”
Damn. My man is sexy when he’s in protective mode.
“Okay.” I need to change the subject quickly. Walking my fingers up his chest, I play with the small spot of bare skin peeking out of his unbuttoned shirt collar. “Now that you’re an old married man — are you prepared to give up any temptations that may come your way in the future?” I tease.
“You will always be my temptation.” He takes my hand and kisses it.
“Like the apple to Eve?
“Or the cupcake to Julia.” He raises a sly brow.
“More like Ben to Julia,” I correct.
He grabs me, pulling me to him and kisses me hard.
“Get a room,” Allie shouts across the room.
~o0o~
“Are you having a nice time?” I ask Beverly, who is seated alone at her table while Elizabeth and Stuart sit at the bar chatting with Camille. Ben’s dad is nowhere to be found.
“Yes. Thank you. The food was surprisingly good. And the entertainment,” she points to Allie drunk-girl dancing on top of a table with Vince, Marcelo and Peter laughing and egging her on by tossing singles at her, “is world-class.”
“Yeah, well,” I look away, embarrassed and at the same time wishing I was on that table with her.
“It’s okay, dear,” she says, patting my hand, “I was young once too.” She looks back at the table and smiles politely. Her smile quickly fades as she turns her head slightly. I look to see what’s caught her attention. God, I hope my sisters aren’t doing the same on another table.
Her husband, Dick Squared, is openly coming on to one of the young wait staff. The girl looks like she’s barely legal. He leans in close to her, whispering something in her ear, and slips his business card in her hand. The girl giggles and nods.
I peek over at Beverly, who has not taken her eyes off the sleazy spectacle playing out in front of us. My heart aches for her. Why does that asshole have to humiliate her so publicly?
“Umm, can I refresh your drink?” I ask, attempting to divert her attention anywhere but across the room.
She turns to me, straightens her posture and gives me a tight smile. “You should know that the only resemblance Benjamin has to his father is his physical features. Not his character. You have nothing to worry about.”
I nod, grateful for her reassurance. “I’ll get your martini.”
“Thank you. That would be lovely.”
“No problem.”
“Oh and Julia, dear?”
“Yes?”
“My son loves you very much.”
I smile and she smiles back, a genuine one. I leave to get her drink.
Stuart and Elizabeth are seated at the bar talking with Vivian and Jim. Fifth Wheel Cam-eel is nowhere in sight.
“Where’s Camille?” I ask. Although I invited her in, I still don’t trust her. You know, keep your enemies closer and all that jazz.
“She just left,” Elizabeth tells me.
“With the bartender,” Stuart adds with some humor in his voice.
“She went home with Jake? Was she drunk?”
“Of course not!” Elizabeth states, indignantly.
“Did he slip something in her drink?” She may not be my favorite person, but I don’t wish Jake on anyone.
“They hit it off,” Elizabeth says, looking happy for her friend. I’m not about to burst anyone’s bubble. Anyway, I get it. Camille needed to feel wanted. And Jake needed to feel… boobs. I guess they’re both getting what they want.
“So he just up and left the bar unattended?” I ask.
Makes sense, he probably doesn’t hear ‘yes’ often.
“Yup.” Stuart nods. “What’s your poison? I’ll make it.” He slides off his bar stool and walks behind the bar.
~o0o~
“I know this wedding is non-traditional, but can a Father have a traditional dance with his occasionally traditional Daughter?” my dad asks.
“Of course.” I place my hand in his and we walk to the middle of the room.
“I made a special request for our song,” he tells me.
“Is it going to make me cry?”
“Guess we’ll see.”
The DJ nods, as all eyes are on us. And I brace myself for yet another cry-fest.
Once I hear the first few notes, I burst into laughter.
“Take Me Out to the Ball Game?” I ask.
“You approve?” He raises an amused brow.
“It’s perfect!”
We dance, as best we can, to two minutes of a baseball song. I spot my mother, with her arms wrapped around Ben, kissing his cheek.
“Enjoy tonight, Juju. One day you’ll wake up and see how fast time slipped by.” He kisses my forehead and I hold him tight.
“I will, Dad.”
Chapter 23
Leaning on a doorway arch, I watch chaos unfolding around me. The kids are running in circles around the tables. The DJ blasts Elvis Crespo’s “Suavemente” while my brothers pull a solitary Beverly out of her chair to join the rest of my family and friends in a conga line. Stuart is leading the way, wearing ten multicolored glowing neon necklaces.
Peter and Marcelo point and laugh at the awful dancing, stealing kisses in between chuckles.
Immeasurable amounts of love fill the room. Everyone I care about is here in front of me.
He did it. He gave me the wedding of my dreams.
Ben strolls across the room and joins me, pulling me close and hugging me from behind. I lean my head back against his chest.
“Did you have another cupcake?” he murmurs in my ear.
I glance at the table where our wedding cupcakes were once tastefully piled. “Yup.”
He laughs. “Good.”
“Happy?” I ask.
“Very.” He tightens his arms around me.
I look down at his left hand curved around my waist. “That ring is sexy.”
“So is my wife’s.” I feel his smile against my cheek and know the dimples are dimpling.
“She’s a lucky lady.”
“I’m the lucky one.” He presses a sweet kiss on my neck.
I sigh, a happy content sigh. “I love you, Ben. So much.”
�
��I love you too.”
“Thank you for today. It was perfect.” Ben’s acts of love would always keep me grateful.
“You deserve perfect.”
“How did you do it? Emilio’s all to ourselves, Father Donovan, Central Park, the hotel rooms for everyone. It had to cost a small fortune to pull this off.” I shake my head. “Just how rich are you?”
He spins me around until I’m facing him, his eyes shining bright with love. He caresses my cheek with the back of his hand and smiles. A beautiful, warm smile that moves me to the point of tears.
I know that in years to come, I may not remember many of the things that lead up to this whirlwind day…
But I’m certain I will never forget that smile.
He leans in, running his nose down mine and kisses me.
“Today,” he takes my left hand in his and kisses my wedding band, “I’m the richest man in the world.”
The End.
Epilogue
Five Years Later
Checking my mental list three times, I try to confirm that I haven’t forgotten anything. Gifts, cupcakes, wine, overnight bags. Check. The blue blanket! How could I forget? I rush down the hallway, keeping an eye on my watch. Time is ticking away, Ben is nowhere to be found, and we’re going to be late if we don’t hit the road soon.
I pause when I hear Ben talking in the study next to our bedroom. Leaning against the doorframe, I smile. Seeing this never gets old.
“This, little man, is a 1796 25C Draped Bust Quarter. It belonged to my grandfather. It was his most prized coin. It’s also the first coin I shared with your mom.”
Our three-year-old, his father’s mini-me, lifts a magnifying glass off the desk, brings it up to his eye, and studies the large silver coin.
Ben chuckles, bouncing him on his knee. “Move it closer to the quarter. You’ll see it clearer.”
Joe nods and readjusts the magnifying glass accordingly. “Cool. Can I see those too?” he asks, pointing to a small box inside the opened desk drawer.
My hand flies to my mouth and I stifle a laugh. That box holds Ben’s collection of Spintriae coins. They’re Roman sex coins, or as we’ve nicknamed them—Porn Coins. There are men and women in several different sexual positions. Blow jobs, doggie style, you name it. Ben and I occasionally take them out for a game of ‘Porn Coin Chance’ and let the coins dictate that night’s erotic activities.
“Maybe another time,” Ben lies, tousling our son’s hair. “We have to get going. Grandma’s making a big dinner.”
“Grandma always pinches my cheeks,” he complains.
“I know, buddy. Mine too. Let’s find your mom.” He stands, tossing Joe up in the air until he giggles.
My two favorite men in the world. My numismatist nerds. It melts my heart every time I see them share Ben’s geeky hobby.
They turn around and see me standing with a sappy grin plastered across my face. Ben smiles back and my insides flutter.
“Can you show me the coins in that box too?” I tease, raising a brow.
He walks over to me, carrying Joe on his hip. “I think I can work that out.”
“I look forward to it.”
“I’ll make sure you do.” He gives me a quick peck on my lips.
~o0o~
After dealing with a ridiculous amount of traffic, we finally arrive at my parents’ house. Ben finds a parking space way down the block. It looks like everyone in the neighborhood is celebrating Christmas Eve on my parents’ street this year.
“I’ll get Joe. You get the gifts and wine,” I tell him.
He slides out of the driver seat and heads to the car trunk. I slip out my side and open the door to retrieve our sleeping son from his car seat. Unlocking the buckle, I lift him up. He doesn’t stir even a little. This kid sleeps like me—dead to the world.
We walk up to the screen door with our hands full. I stop and take in a breath.
“You okay?” Ben asks.
I nod and give Joe a soft kiss on the top of his head. “Yeah. I’m okay.”
Finally feeling comfortable enough to walk in without knocking, Ben swings open the door and we enter. The delicious aroma of Christmas Eve dinner permeates the air, immediately filling my thoughts with so many wonderful family memories while whetting my appetite. Not that my appetite needs much help.
The noise in the house is overpowering but in a good way. Our family has grown in numbers through the years making our Christmas Eve celebrations something I never thought was possible— more chaotic.
It’s wonderful. It’s home.
The first time Ben experienced Christmas Eve at my parents’ house, he was a little overwhelmed but quickly settled into it. Now, he’s a pro.
“Hey, Uncle Ben. How many of those are for me?” our niece Olivia asks as she walks by the front door with her standard accessory, her cell phone, in hand.
“All of them, Liv,” he jokes. “Can you bring them to the tree for me?”
“Leave the bag there.” She points to the floor with her cell. “I’ll get Nick to do it.” Spoken like a true delegator. This girl is going places.
Joe squirms in my arms as he opens his eyes. His lips curl up into a toothy grin when he spots Olivia. Be still my heart… This kid’s dimples slay me.
“Hi Joey,” she says.
“Livvy!” Excited, he tries to wriggle out of my arms, but I hold him tight.
“You can play with your cousins after you say hello to the rest of the family,” I tell him sternly.
He frowns, pursing his lips, but even at the tender age of three, he knows the rules.
“It’s okay, Joey. I’ll be right here when you finish saying hello to everyone,” Olivia promises.
He nods, probably too sleepy to go into a terrible three tirade and argue the point.
“I’ll take him. Come on, buddy.” Ben scoops him from my arms and rests him on a hip. We walk into the kitchen where most of the female population of my family has gathered. My sisters and sisters-in-law are laughing about something. Probably making fun of their spouses seated in the dining room. Most have their wine glasses in hand. Except for Isabelle and my brother Mark’s wife, Joanne… who are both very pregnant.
My mother is frying something over the stove while adding the finishing touches to the seafood salad on the counter.
“Joey!” She exclaims, abandoning the food and making a beeline for my son. I laugh to myself when I notice Joe tense up, readying himself for the inevitable. “You are too handsome, grandma’s big boy.” She grins, enthusiastically cupping his face in her hands. She kisses both cheeks then pinches them. “Just like this guy.” She pinches Ben’s cheek too.
“Good to see you, Rose,” he says, leaning in to kiss her and setting Joe down.
Now that my mother’s love assaults are over, they can relax the rest of the night.
“How’s my baby girl?” She kisses my cheek and wraps her arms tightly around me, swaying us side to side. I stop mid-hug when Joe tugs on my dress with a broad smile and points under the kitchen table.
“What’s that?” I ask my mother.
“That’s a dog,” she deadpans.
“Whose dog?”
“My dog. I adopted her from the shelter two days ago. She’s a four-year-old beagle mix. They gave it some ridiculous name.” She rolls her eyes. “She looks like a Sadie to me. Doesn’t she?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer. “So that’s her name. Poor thing had been holed up there for over a month. It was so loud with the endless barking from the other dogs. She looked terrified and sad. She’s timid until she gets to know you. Then she warms up. I fell in love. Isn’t she the sweetest thing?”
I smile wide and nod. “She’s adorable.” I bend down but don’t approach the dog, as it looks distressed by the massive amount of people and voices. “Welcome to the family, Sadie.” A warm feeling spreads across my chest as I turn back to my mother who looks the happiest I’ve seen her in a long time. “What can I help you with, Mom?” I already know t
he answer.
“Nothing. Go. Eat. There’s food on the table.” She shoos us away.
“Can I see the doggie, grandma?” Joe asks.
“Not just yet. Sadie will come out when she’s ready. I know it’s hard, but we have to be patient with her. Can you do that for grandma?”
Joe nods, never taking his eyes off the frightened dog.
We make our way around the kitchen, kissing and hugging everyone hello. After, we enter the dining room. I like to get my hellos over with quickly so I can take it easy then direct all my attention on the food. The dining room is probably louder than the great room where the kids are playing.
As usual, my brothers and brothers-in-law are one-upping each other with bathroom humor. Neanderthals… All of them. I know they’re going to suck my husband into their world for the night. My grandparents contribute their personal tales. They love this stuff. We make our way around the table with kisses, handshakes and for Joe… exploding fist bumps.
A delicious array of gastronomic delights is spread across the table. The first course is my favorite. The antipasto platter is huge and full of cheeses, hard sausages, roasted red peppers, the works.
I have to watch myself. This platter is basically a giant plate of sodium overload. But so, so good. Stuffed breads, eggplant parm… too much food across the table. My mother must have been cooking for weeks.
I pause and exhale a long breath when I look at my father’s empty chair at the head of the table.
My father is the only man who never broke my heart.
Until he died.
His death helped me see that even through devastating loss… I still had my family and Ben to guide me back to life. I think we all did the same for each other. So instead of watching the broken pieces of my heart fall to the ground, I caught every one, because my dad was part of them and I wasn’t letting him go.
It’s been five months since he passed away. And I know I’ll never get over it. But I’ve accepted it. Now instead of calling him and talking, I wait for dreams so I can hear his voice again. So I can see him. Hug him one last time. Tell him how much I love him…. how I miss him every day.
Sometimes I’m a little jealous that my older brothers and sisters got more time with him. I have so many wonderful memories, yet it still doesn’t feel like enough.
