If She Says Yes

by Tasha L. Harrison

  “I’m just saying,” he continued. “Me and Auntie James are close. It would be weird if y’all…got involved.”

  Sobering at his serious tone, I gave him a reassuring tap on the shoulder. “Relax, Jay. I’m not trying to get with your Auntie like that.”

  “Seriously, Tomás. Don’t fuck my Auntie.”

  “Seriously, Jay. I won’t fuck your Auntie.”

  But I’m absolutely going to fuck your mother.

  A few hours later, with a fresh cut, a crisp tux, and the sun sinking in the sky, kissing the horizon with pink, orange, and purple hues, Jared was ready to meet Brandi at the end of the aisle and say his I dos. At least, he was physically ready. The nerves that he had managed to keep at bay for months now showed up in full force.

  “She’s too good for me, bro,” he muttered, pacing the living room of the garçonnière. “You’ve known me my whole adult life. You know I ain’t shit. But Brandi... She’s smart and ambitious. She’s a fucking neurosurgeon, for fuck’s sake. A fucking genius.” He shook his head. “She deserves better. She could do so much better than me.”

  Not usually the type of dude given to talking about his insecurities or shortcomings, it was a bit unnerving to hear Jared doubt whether he was the right man for Brandi. I had no idea that he’d ever been intimidated by her intelligence or ambition. In fact, he always seemed to be in awe of her. And having witnessed their relationship from the sidelines, I knew that Brandi truly loved him.

  “What are you even talking about, Jay? Yeah, she could’ve done better, but she chose your ass anyway.”

  “Fuck you—”

  “I mean, do you seriously think she woke up this morning and suddenly realized your lack of depth? You’ve been together for three years. I assure you, she is aware.”

  We both knew that wasn’t true. Jared was far from ignorant — shallow, yes, but there was no way that Brandi had ever questioned his intelligence. They were both surgeons, both ambitious, and complemented each other in the best ways.

  “I know she loves me, Tommy,” he said. “But forever is a long time, and what if love isn’t enough?”

  Well, fuck. I didn’t know what to say to that. His parents were divorced and, by all accounts, didn’t have a great marriage. I was fairly certain that my parents only stayed together because of us kids. Neither of us had any idea how marriage should look from the inside.

  I got up and walked over to where he stood, looking out the window into the side yard where wedding guests were taking their seats. “Well… In the wise and careful words of Smokey from Friday’s mama, make it enough.”

  Jared barked out a surprised howl of laughter. “I can’t fucking stand you, Tomás.”

  “You lie. You fucking love me, bro. Now put on your jacket. It’s time to get you married.”

  The main floor of Darcy’s Charleston single had been transformed. Plumeria, lilies, and roses, the scents of which hung thickly in the air, lined the hallways and the piazzas. A string quartet played God Only Knows out there, and well-dressed guests made their way to the side yard where the ceremony would take place. I didn’t know if it was the heady perfume of the flowers, the sticky, cool breeze blowing in off the river, or just that Charleston ambience, but everything took on this dreamlike quality. Surreal but familiar in the way that things I’d only witnessed but had never been a part of could be. The rings in my breast pocket suddenly felt heavy and precious, and not because of their combined weight, but heavy with significance and symbolism.

  The rest of the groomsmen were already escorting various guests to their seats as needed. How they managed to look halfway human after last night was a miracle. Jared found the wedding planner and greeted him with a big smile.

  “Look at you two! You clean up nice! And punctual! We have about seven minutes before we need to get everyone in place. Tomás, you’re supposed to escort Jared’s mother down the aisle. Right?”

  “Yup. I’ve got Darcy. I need to give Brandi your wedding gift anyway.”

  “Right, right. Thanks, Tomás,” he murmured, taking the jewelry box out of his breast pocket.

  My heart skipped like an excited kid as I made my way upstairs. The boy in me wanted to break into a run, but somehow, I managed to cover the distance in measured steps. I hadn’t seen or spoken to Darcy since our moment this morning in the laundry room, which I understood rationally wasn’t a long time, but it felt like an eternity. As I took the corner at the top of the stairs and went down the hallway to her bedroom, I was reminded of last night. Of Darcy, a wild storm of emotions barely contained within her skin as she took what she needed from me. Would she be that way tonight? God, I hope so.

  Standing in front of the door, I heard giggles and coos — Brandi and her bridesmaids were using Darcy’s room to get ready. James and her glam squad had been hard at work before me and the boys left to go to the barbershop. If those delighted sounds were an indication, the bride was definitely pleased. I rapped on her closed bedroom door and took a step backward.

  A few seconds later, James opened the door, and when she saw that it was me, her pretty face split into one of her infamous sultry smiles. “Hey, Tommy.”

  “Hey, Auntie.”

  She rolled her eyes and gave a little sigh like she knew it was never going to happen between us, and I laughed because I was flattered. “What’s up?”

  “I need Darcy.” Wow, that statement feels more true than it should. “The ceremony is about to start, and I’m supposed to escort her to her seat.”

  “Come on in. Darcy and Brandi are out on the piazza with the photographer.”

  As I followed her through the door, I understood why Jared asked me to stay away from his Auntie. James was gorgeous. She was tall and slim, like her sister. Had the same bright copper brown eyes and luminous reddish-toned skin. But there was also something mean about her. Like she’d kiss you with a razor blade tucked behind her bottom lip. Don’t get me wrong, that definitely had its appeal, but I just didn’t see it for her. Not the way I did for Darcy.

  The photographer was capturing a staged but tender moment between Darcy and her soon-to-be daughter-in-law. Brandi was all done up in a dress that made her look like a cupcake — frothy and covered in confectioner’s sugar. Jared was gonna fall over when he saw her.

  “Tomás!” Brandi exclaimed, dabbing at her eyes. “Is it time already?”

  “Almost! I’m here to collect the mother of the groom and to give you this—”

  “Is that Jared’s wedding gift?” the photographer asked.

  “Uh…yeah?”

  “Don’t give it to her yet. I want to get some shots of you handing it to her and her opening it.” All at once, the photographer grabbed me, positioned me opposite Brandi, and took a couple of test shots.

  Jared and I had spent most of yesterday afternoon looking for the perfect gift for Brandi. I’d given him all sorts of lists and articles for him to reference, but in the end, he’d settled on something she could wear every day: a gold bracelet fashioned to look like a stethoscope that, when clasped, looked like an infinity sign. It seemed a bit cheesy and on the nose to me, but Jared swore she would love it.

  I reached into my breast pocket and pulled out the card and the jewelry box, carefully avoiding the rings tied together with a piece of ribbon — and the condoms I’d stowed in there for later. Brandi looked up at me, tears already welling in her eyes.

  “So, who picked this out for me?” she asked playfully, well aware of the dynamic between me and her husband. She knew he wasn’t the thoughtful type and was totally okay with the fact that he relied on me to help him buy her birthday and Christmas gifts. She’d even shared her bridal Pinterest board with me when they started talking about marriage to make sure he bought the right ring.

  “You know me. I planned everything, and I had a list of things he could choose from, but he chose this all on his own.”

  “Oh, lord,” she said, rolling her eyes. “What’s in here?”

  “Read the ca
rd first.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me again as she tore open the envelope.

  “I don’t know what’s in the card. He delivered it to me sealed.”

  I watched her pull the card out of the envelope and begin to read. As her eyes dashed across the heavy cardstock, tears spilled down her cheeks, ruining her makeup. I had no idea what was in that card, but Jared must’ve done good.

  “I love that big-headed boy,” she blubbered while opening the small jewelry box. And when she saw the bracelet? She lost it. The photographer captured every moment.

  After I helped her put on the bracelet, James swooped in to touch up her makeup. The rest of the bridesmaids crowded around Brandi to coo and swoon over her gift and Jared’s message in the card. I finally turned back to Darcy. She was looking at Brandi, a sweet but sort of sad smile on her lips, and her eyes twinkled brightly with unshed tears. My chest clenched tight the moment her eyes met mine, that same sensation of not being able to breathe that overcame me last night.

  No one would accuse Darcy of trying to upstage the bride. The dress was demure but so sheer and so close to her skin tone that it seemed as if she had grown a protective gossamer layer filled with twinkling gems that draped over her curves and down to the floor. It was an easy sort of bohemian glamour that was all her, and no other woman downstairs would have been able to pull it off.

  “You look stunning,” I said breathlessly.

  She smiled and ducked her head shyly. “The old lady cleans up nice, huh?”

  “You’re no old lady, Darcy.” Realizing that someone might overhear me, I leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Would an old lady come the way you did on this porch last night?”

  A soft gasp made her chest rise and fall sharply. “I guess not,” she said, the corners of her mouth twitching into a secret smile as her skin flushed enticingly under the muted but glamorous makeup she had on.

  I stepped back and offered my elbow. “Shall we?”

  “Let’s!” She giggled girlishly and took my arm.

  12

  Darcy

  Tommy slowed his pace once we reached the hallway outside of my bedroom. When I closed the door behind us, and the tinkling of female laughter faded, he crowded both of us behind a big potted rubber tree plant that hid us from the bedroom door and the hallway. His hands settled on my hips, and they felt so hot that I had to look down at them, worried that the delicate fabric hadn’t disintegrated under his touch. Drawing the tip of his nose up the line of my neck, he whispered, “Can I kiss you?”

  “Not on the lips. James spent hours on this makeup, and she’d murder me if I smudged it.”

  He huffed out a growl of frustration then placed a soft, wet kiss just under my chin. “I guess I’ll just have to be patient and wait for our appointment then.”

  “I guess we both will,” I whispered back, my body heating at the thought of finally slaking the intense need that had grown between us. I only hoped that one night would be enough. Not that it really mattered. He was still my son’s best friend. Nothing could come of this thing between us. By this time tomorrow, Tommy would be back in Chicago.

  “We should get downstairs,” I said, pushing him away.

  Tommy searched my face, a crinkle between his brows. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing!” I squeaked a little too excitedly. “I just don’t want to hold up the ceremony.”

  He stared into my eyes for a long moment, then checked his watch. “You’re right. I should get you to your seat.”

  Quickly, but taking care not to rush me too much, Tommy helped me navigate my way through the house toward my seat on the groom’s side.

  I could see the back of Jolene’s head as we made our way down the aisle. I clenched my teeth and bit back the nasty remark that nearly passed my lips. But I must have made some sort of sound because Tommy covered the hand I had in the crook of his arm with his own.

  “Twenty minutes. You only have to sit next to her for twenty minutes, and then I’ll rescue you,” he whispered as we neared my seat.

  I didn’t know if he meant it as a joke, but I was suddenly so immensely grateful that he’d stepped in to take care of me during this ceremony. “Thank you, Tommy.”

  He gave me one of his wicked lopsided grins. “My pleasure. I’m at your service, remember?” he said, then dropped a hand to my waist and held the chair steady as I sat down.

  Jolene glanced my way as I made myself comfortable. “Good evening, Darcy,” she said haltingly.

  “Jojo,” I returned curtly.

  Jolene was wearing a slip of a dress, seemingly made of the leftovers from a real garment meant to cover someone’s body. She crossed her bare legs and angled them in a way that elongated them. “You look lovely, Darcy. Mother of the bride dresses always look so matronly to me, but not on you,” she said.

  I rolled my eyes and chuckled at her weak attempt to bait me into a sniping match. “Thanks,” I said, accepting her backhanded compliment. I knew I didn’t look matronly. The way Tommy was still staring at me validated that in ways that no one else could.

  “Thomas certainly is taking that concierge duty seriously, isn’t he?” Jolene said. “He has always been overly fond of you.”

  “His name is Tomás,” I ground out between clenched teeth. “And what do you mean, overly fond?”

  “Just that Shannon told me that he was always sniffing around your skirts. Flirting shamelessly and being overly helpful and all that. It’s just the first time I’ve seen it in action. It’s cute, but I hope you’re not taking it seriously.”

  “Taking what seriously?” I asked quietly, feeling hurt and anger rise in me just as quietly at his implication.

  “Well, all of the attention he’s giving to you. He’s a good-looking kid, and I can understand how that kind of attention can boost your ego—”

  “I’m sure you can,” I interrupted, giving her pointed look.

  Jolene chuckled, completely unfazed and not at all embarrassed. “I’m just saying, a young, successful man like that has his choice of women at a wedding. It was chivalrous of him to volunteer to take care of you, but you should release him from those duties so the boy can have some fun.”

  I narrowed my eyes at my dead husband’s smug mistress wearing that self-satisfied smirk. I knew bourbon was probably the reason she took that jab at me. Why she wanted to cut me down to size. I wished I could pinpoint when or why being graceful and taking her circumstances into consideration wasn’t enough for her to be less bitter and spiteful. Maybe it was because she struggled once he was gone. Maybe she thought all of the money was his and she would get the big chunk of it, which would have never been the case because the money was always mine, not his. Either way, she felt the need to snipe at me this way more and more often, which was why I’d limited my interactions with her. But this… this need to make me feel small and unwanted on my son’s wedding day? A day when it should be easy to be cordial with each other? I didn’t understand it. It was mean and spiteful in a way that I just couldn’t wrap my head around.

  I refused to respond to it, though. Refused to give her that energy.

  Instead, I canted my body so I didn’t have to see or acknowledge him, took my hand fan out of the little pearl clutch that I’d paired with my matronly dress, and proceeded to kick up enough wind to keep my immaculately applied makeup from succumbing to the heat and humidity of the day.

  “Darcy, there’s no need to get sensitive. I’m just stating—”

  “Shhh! My son is coming down the aisle!” I hissed through clenched teeth.

  And damn was he a good-looking kid. He had my coloring but his father’s height and aquamarine eyes. His hair was like mine and leaned toward a sandy, reddish brown in the summer. He was thirty-two years old. He’d been a grown man for a long time, but as I watched him make his way down the aisle, I saw none of my little boy in him.

  That melancholy feeling that came over me yesterday afternoon swelled in me again as he came to stand over me
. “You look gorgeous, ma,” he whispered, then leaned in to kiss me on the cheek.

  He didn’t even smell like my boy anymore. I gave him a wobbly smile when he pulled away.

  “Don’t cry, mama. It’s a happy day.”

  “I know,” I whispered hoarsely. So why did I feel this loss so keenly? “I’m just so happy for you,” I said, patting his cheek. “She’s beautiful, and I know that the two of you will be happy together.”

  My boy grinned and loped to his place near the pastor. Tommy followed, his gaze focused on me.

  “You okay?” he mouthed, then gestured toward his pocket, where I knew he probably had another one of those handkerchiefs.

  I gave him a polite smile and nodded. He returned the nod and added a wink for good measure. A wink delivered with a look that said he was looking forward to our appointment tonight.

  But Jolene’s words rang in my ears too. And they stuck with me all the way through the twenty-one-minute ceremony. My son blubbered through his vows — most of which he forgot — and ended inelegantly with, “I love you so much. I love everything about you. The way you move. The way you speak. The way you eat.” That got him lots of laughs, but it made me wonder if anyone had ever felt that way about me? Had Shannon?

  They kissed — boy, did they kiss. I couldn’t remember Jared ever kissing someone the way he kissed his new wife in front of me. It made that old adage seem even more true. A son’s a son ‘til he takes a wife, but a daughter is a daughter all her life.

  I had no daughters. Jared was my only son. And I was losing him to a beauty in a frothy white dress with a hard Northern accent and a look for him like he hung the moon. I wanted to be happy for them — I was happy for them. But I couldn’t help feeling sad for myself.

  Jared and Brandi jumped the broom, and the string quartet played a peppy version of Beyoncé’s Love on Top as they made their way back down the aisle, followed by the wedding party. As he passed, Tommy leaned in and whispered, “Stay there. I’ll come back for you,” then made his way to the reception area with one of Brandi’s bridesmaids on his arm.