sure that all the household tasks were done. That there was a hot meal for my mom when she came home, and the laundry was all put away. They saw one another through thick and thin, and I want the same. A partner in life.
My arms glide through the black jacket and I straighten the white shirt underneath by pulling on the cuffs. I look goofy as hell.
“Come on, Stone, we’re waiting,” Juno yells.
I walk out in the tuxedo to the three mirrors and step up on the box.
Juno says nothing. She looks me up and down, but no words leave her mouth.
“Well? I look ridiculous, right?”
“You look grown-up.” Her lip trembles for a millisecond before she swallows and masks any emotion. “Where’s the lanky kid who broke his arm trying to be cool on a skateboard?” She lets out a strained laugh and stands, taking a picture with her phone.
“Where’s the girl with bubble gum all over her face because she shoved so many pieces of Hubba Bubba in there to blow the Guinness Book of World Records’ biggest bubble?”
She smiles. We could go on and on about all our memories. The good ones. The funny ones. We never talk about the serious ones. Juno likes to keep those in a locked vault. Unfortunately, many of those times are memories I like to relive. Not because they’re bad, but because of what happened when we comforted one another. The lingering touches, the tight hugs and long holds. The short kisses to cheeks that would continue down the other’s face until our lips met. The soft, hesitant kisses to test if the other one was on the same page. Times when the line would blur slightly with the excuse of comfort.
“Circle around now.” She twirls her finger in the air.
I do as she says, acting like arunway model with my hands tucked into the pockets of my pants.
“You are a classic kind of guy, aren’t you?” Her eyes peruse me and my blood whooshes through my body at her attention.
“I think it’s too dressy though. I mean, we’re having a garden wedding at Selene’s.”
She stares at me, her finger to her lips, tapping like she’s a judge on Top Model. “Let’s see what else Mr. Johnson found.”
I disappear down the hallway and hear her laugh at something Mr. Johnson says.
I take off the tux—which is the one I wore in my head while I waited for Juno to walk down the aisle toward me—and put on a navy suit with a white shirt and burgundy tie. This works better for my wedding with Brigette.
Mr. Johnson takes all my measurements, and I put down the deposit on the suit.
“Lunch?” I ask Juno after we’re out of the shop.
“I should probably get back to the office.”
“That client already come in today?”
“Yeah.” Her mouth opens as though she’s going to say something else, but she doesn’t.
“Then we’re going to lunch. A quick one at Lard Have Mercy.” I bend down so we’re eye to eye.
She nods, and we both turn to take the shortcut through the gazebo and park over to Main Street. Neither of us talks much on the way to the small diner.
We’re seated in a booth in the far corner, with a view of the park. We’ve eaten here so many times I’ve lost count. At thirteen, we came here for fries and milkshakes. By high school, I was getting burgers and onion rings while Juno ordered grilled cheese and ate half my rings. She always refused to order her own. When I came home from college, I started ordering the Salisbury steak while Juno shifted to salads.
“I’ll have soup and salad,” she tells the waitress.
“I’ll have a cheeseburger and onion rings.”
Juno’s head snaps up from the menu. “No chicken and dumplings, old man?”
We hand our menus to the waitress. “I’m feeling nostalgic.”
She tilts her head. “Why?”
I shrug. “I have no idea, but I bet you’ll steal a few onion rings.”
“I like my soup and salad, thank you,” she says. “Not to mention I have to fit into my dress for your wedding.”
“Oh yeah, Brigette mentioned that we haven’t gotten your RSVP yet.”
She takes the bin of jams, organizing them so all the same flavors are once again back together. “Oh, sorry. I thought I had.”
“Are you bringing anyone?” I ask the question that’s been burning inside me.
Brigette actually didn’t notice we didn’t get her RSVP. I did—because I want to know if she’s bringing that douchebag Trey from Los