Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Erica and Shane’s wedding cake is seasonal confection perfection rising out of the dessert bar like a pumpkin spice lover’s dream. It’s surrounded by macarons, cake pops, blondie bites, and mini cinnamon buns.
Apparently, Shane had a minor addiction and these were a last-minute addition to the dessert bar because she wanted to show him that he was forgiven.
The sunflowers, lilies, carnations, and dianthus nestled in woven baskets are like nature’s smile. The band Mikey hired tunes in the background and sounds great. I make sure everything is set and have no doubt Erica and Shane will have a perfect day that will lead to a perfect future.
The kind I want with the best man.
I’m at the salon with Erica and the rest of the bridesmaids, finishing getting ready. A horse and carriage are picking us up, courtesy of one of Shane’s uncles. After the rehearsal dinner last night, I have a feeling his family could’ve handled the wedding planning.
Then again, perhaps the bride and groom-to-be didn’t want their hands in all of it. Wish I’d learned that lesson. However, if Mrs. Cruz and Mama hadn’t been so involved, Mikey and I wouldn’t have realized in time that we were all wrong for each other.
But now we’re getting a second chance.
I let out a sigh as I apply rouge to one of Shane’s sisters’ cheeks. “It’s fixing up to be a wonderful day.”
“Thanks again for hosting us here,” Erica says.
“Of course. What are friends for?”
Just then, my phone beeps, but it’s not the sound from a text. It’s the security app like at the rehearsal dinner. Joey and Charlie claimed to have re-homed the critter that kept setting it off last night. Also, we’re here. I look around, wondering if it’s a glitch.
Shrugging, I say, “Must be the squirrel again.”
Erica holds up her hands. “If you apologize again for last night, I’ll pull my hair out of this fancy updo. Anyway, Shane prefers it down.”
My jaw lowers. “If that’s the case, I would’ve styled it differently.”
“No, I’m already sweating like a little pig in a blanket. It needs to be up.”
My phone cuts off our laughter. “I’m going to check the back.”
The ladies resume their conversation and I hurry in my heels to the back room that has an exit to the parking lot behind this row of buildings.
A key slides into the lock.
My pulse quickens.
The door opens, blinding me with sunlight.
A large figure takes shape and I blink a few times, looking at the male version of myself.
“Asher?” I ask, shielding my eyes.
My twin glances around as if suspicious, then wraps his arms around me in a brotherly bear hug. “Juniper!”
“Careful. Watch the hair and makeup. We’re getting ready for a wedding.”
“I know. Mama told me,” he says.
“I assume she also gave you a key?”
He nods, eyes sharp as he looks around.
“Why didn’t you come through the front?”
“Oh, um, I parked back there.” He thumbs over his shoulder.
I nod and my sibling Spidey senses tingle. “Having been in Thailand all this time, I expected you to be tanner.”
“Must be the Russian genetics.” His attention drifts to every corner of the back room.
Maybe Mama mentioned the roof cave-in, and he’s concerned about the building’s structural integrity.
“I can’t stay long, but I wanted to tell you something important.”
“What do you mean you can’t stay long?” Red-hot anger rushes through me.
“It’s Her, isn’t it? I don’t understand, Asher.
This is family. Nothing is more important.
I haven’t seen you since Papa’s funeral, you show up unannounced—acting odd, quite frankly—and you can’t stay long because of your girlfriend? ”
He winces.
My brow furrows. “Do they have clean drinking water over there?” I press my hand to his forehead. “Bug spray? Are you feeling okay?”
“Yes, of course. I’m fine. It’s just that I don’t want you to make the same mistake twice.”
As the trilling laughter of the ladies filters to us, I realize that my brother thinks today is my wedding day. “Bro, if you didn’t notice, I’m wearing orange, er, pumpkin spice. This is Erica and Shane’s big day.”
“I know.”
I squint, not understanding. “Explain yourself.”
With authority in his voice, my usually goofball brother says, “You’re getting married. You know it. He knows it. You want it. He does too.”
Hip-cocked, I sling my arms in front of my chest. “Is that so? Maybe they do things differently overseas, but you’re not marrying me off. I don’t even have a dowry.”
Ordinarily, Asher would laugh. He’s concerningly quiet.
I reiterate, “I’m not getting married. Erica is.”
He nods like I’m the one being thickheaded. “Erica and Shane are getting married today, but you and Mikey are also getting married. You made the mistake of calling it off once. I don’t want to see that happen again. You were made for each other.”
My eyes bulge. “And just how do you know this?”
He taps his temple. “Intel.”
“Mama.”
He doesn’t deny it, but I hear the faint clipping and clopping of hooves from outside. “I have to go. See you at home? Er, our new home.”
He gives me a lazy salute and says, “See you at Thanksgiving.”
Rattled, I think about my fraternal twin.
I was the more serious of us two, prickly, shrewd, whatever you want to call it.
Asher was like a Golden Retriever with energy to spare.
Looking back, after we lost Papa, he wasn’t quite the same.
He went to Russia on what he called a “Soul Journey,” met Her, and then landed in Thailand.
Yes, of course, I blame Her and quite honestly, not only do I not want to say her name because she’s the enemy, tearing Asher away from us, but I also can’t pronounce it.
But there’s no time to think about that because Erica calls my name. It’s time to go.
The ride to the church is like a fairy tale.
It’s a perfect day and I’m beyond happy for my friend.
I tell her so when it’s time for us to line up for the processional.
Although I don’t think much more about Asher’s odd visit, when my arm links through Mikey’s, what he said about us getting married accompanies me down the aisle.
He squeezes my arm like he would if we were holding pinkies. A wave of what will be regret if it’s not the two of us doing this someday soon nearly makes me stumble.
My brother’s insistence that Mikey and I get married was odd, but no more than Mama and Mrs. Cruz becoming friends instead of frenemies or Erica and Shane matching Mikey and me up to plan this shindig—at least at the time.
But they were right. He and I are meant to be.
Erica glows. Shane looks dapper—so does Mikey. The pastor performs a beautiful ceremony.
But my mind echoes everything he says as if recalling it from memory, only it’s like reverse déjà vu. Mikey and I were supposed to share this experience.
In a way, perhaps we made unofficial vows.
We’ve been together through richer and poorer—college was a financial stretch when he was trying to keep up with his classes, playing and practicing, and working with his dad to get by.
I was building my name as a stylist and we’d have noodle-cooking contests, seeing who could make the best meal for the least amount of money.
When he was drafted to the Kings, we celebrated by going to a two-for-one taco on Tuesday night.
Sickness and health. Better and worse—we’ve seen each other through all of it as friends, rivals, and a couple.
When Erica and Shane slide the wedding bands on each other’s fingers, Mikey’s gaze catches mine and holds steady. My heart flutters, then floats toward his because how could it not? It belongs to him. Always has. Always will.
I told him that I sold the engagement ring, but I still have it. It still fits. I’ve tried it on twice—on what would’ve been our wedding and our first anniversary.
In so many words, he’s expressed that he still has feelings for me. That we should still get married. My heart melts, leaving a pool right here on the altar as the pastor pronounces the couple husband and wife.
Mikey blinks a few extra times. I’m praying my mascara isn’t running because witnessing the start of a marriage is beautiful.
When he and I link arms to exit the assembly, equal parts longing and certainty fill my mind, guide my steps, and make me sure that the next time we walk down the aisle together, it’ll be as a married couple.
As if reading my mind, when we get to the entryway, Mikey finds my pinky, squeezes, and follows up with a wink.
The reception goes off without a hitch—except I catch the bouquet. Actually, it bonked me in the head. That’s only a problem because I’m already getting married—or maybe my brother asked God to remind me not to be dumb or stubborn and change my mind.
The guests enjoy the meal from Rae of Bite Catering Company and Joey does a great job DJ-ing. The flower arrangements are lush, and thanks to Mama, the favors got here in time.
Even though she and Carlotta held captive my and Mikey’s wedding—which resulted in us deciding we weren’t meant to be together because we’d always side with our respective families—seeing Erica and Shane’s big day through made me realize something.
Having so many helping hands is a great blessing, with work and life in general.
I would never have been able to pull something like this off without help.
Lesson learned: I don’t have to do everything myself.
Mikey is the only hockey player here and gets loads of attention, but his coach is also in attendance.
I learn that Tom Badaszek is Shane’s mother’s cousin, but he doesn’t say a word to the Knights’ star center.
How do I know? I haven’t taken my eyes off him all evening—number ninety-four, not the coach.
After the newlywed dance, the bridal party takes to the parquet floor. As ever, I fit right into Mikey’s embrace.
He says, “From the horse-drawn carriage ride to the cutting of the cake, I’d say everything went well.”
I nod, but his comment takes me down a track of thought, reminding me of my brother’s odd visit to the salon right before our ride arrived.
But I push it out of my mind because when the tempo changes from a slow song, Mikey and I fall into rhythm and dance until it’s time for the bride and groom to depart.
We’re the last ones at the reception hall as the moon hangs high in the sky. I shiver and Mikey drapes his tux jacket over my shoulders without having to ask. Together, we walk down the sidewalk toward the arbor that leads to the parking lot and pause at the end.
Mikey turns a hazy gaze my way. He skims my outline, head to toe and back up again. “You looked gorgeous last night, but today, you knocked me out.”
“Is that going to be a problem?” I tease.
“Are you asking whether I’ll survive our wedding day?”
I can’t hide my grin. “Wouldn’t want a wedding and a funeral on the same day.”
He glances back at the reception hall, then links his pinky with mine. “I want this. Us.”
I swing our linked pinkie between us and lift my gaze to his. “Me too.”
“Yeah?” he asks.
“Definitely.” I grip the bottom of his untucked shirt and pull him toward me.
His hands glide up the column of my neck before clasping my jaw as he angles my head for what I know is coming.
All the same, I suck in a breath.
His eyes are dark. Filled with want.
“I want you, Junie,” he says before closing the space. Months of unmet longing meet the moment and boomerang through me.
Mikey’s rough stubble tickles my cheeks as we move together. My hands slide along his powerful back, not sure where to land, not wanting this to end.
My pulse accelerates, dancing like we did earlier, exhilarated because this is what I’ve wanted for so long, even when I denied it. The kiss, yes, but him and his commitment.
Mikey breaks the kiss and peppers my neck with his lips. I nestle into him, not wanting to break contact.
I take the opportunity to say, “I am stubbornly in love with you.”
“That makes two of us,” he replies.
And our mouths crash together again.
When we get to the car, fog rolls in and the diffused moonlight casts everything in a dreamlike glow.
Somewhere in the distance, a dog barks. But here, hidden in this quiet moment we’ve stolen for ourselves, time seems to stand still, so we can recover what we had and build something new from the ashes.
Mikey smiles against my lips before he pulls back just enough to look into my eyes. His thumb traces the outline of my lower lip, still swollen from his kiss.
“Do you remember the time you gave me a mohawk?”
A laugh bubbles up from my chest at the summer-after-high-school memory. “Technically, it was a fauxhawk. You asked for a buzz cut. In December. In Manhattan.”
“It was an excuse,” he admits, smirking.
My heart stutters. “For what?”
Mikey’s hands cradle my face like I’m something precious, something he can’t believe is real. “To be close to you.”
“Why would you need an excuse to be close to your enemy?”
“One day, I walked past Guys and Dolls and glanced inside. You were laughing with a customer, and the sun was hitting your hair just right, and I...” His voice catches. “I just knew.”
“Knew what?” I breathe, though part of me already understands.
“That I didn’t hate you. I loved you.” His eyes, so earnest and vulnerable, hold mine. “Even if it meant sitting in that ridiculous cape with my ears turning red every time you came near me.”
I reach up to touch the scar on my cheek—the one I’d spent years trying to hide until Mikey made me feel beautiful despite it, because of it. He kissed my hand and nudges it away with his nose. Kissed my scar.
“And now we’re here,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion.
“Now we’re here,” he echoes, brushing a strand of hair from my face.
“I never thought I’d have this,” I confess, my fingers tracing the contours of his face, memorizing what I already know by heart. “Someone who would see all of me and stay, anyway.”
His expression changes, an intensity there that makes my breath short. “I’m not ‘staying anyway,’ Junie. I’m staying because of all of you. The stubbornness. The way you hum when you’re concentrating. How you cry at commercials with babies in them but would never admit it.”
“I do not!” I definitely do.
“I’m staying … I want to be with you because loving you isn’t a choice. It’s my past, our future.”
And as his lips find mine, tender yet hungry, I know with absolute certainty that this—us—is the beginning of our greatest adventure yet.