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When we make it inside, the grey-haired woman sitting behind the desk in the lobby takes one look at me, grins, and says, “Your man’s already upstairs, sweetheart.” She fans herself. “Got yourself a fine man.”
“He’s okay,” I say woodenly as I pull off my coat. I wish I had somewhere to stow it, but I have to carry it in my arms. My comment earns me a frown, then I ask for directions to the courtroom where it’s going to happen. I can’t bring myself to think of it as the courtroom where I’m going to get married.
I get on the elevator with Eden and Charlie, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit a piece of me wants it to stop so I can rethink all of this. My brother and Mira got stuck in an elevator—twice, actually—and it worked out for them.
But it arrives the way it’s supposed to. I sigh, and Eden watches me closely as we get off. She clucks her tongue. “You’re clutching that dirty-ass coat like it’s a stuffed animal. Give it to me.”
I don’t object, but as I hand it over, I say, “This is good. Everything’s going to be great.”
This time, Charlie gives Eden a significant look before shifting his gaze to me. “Ruthie, you don’t need to do this because we’re closing the diner, we—”
Eden gives him a shove. “I hadn’t gotten around to telling her yet, you dolt.”
“Then what in tarnation did you talk about for two hours yesterday afternoon?” he asks, giving his hat a little aggravated shove as if it’s offended him.
Apparently, even always-happy couples bicker, but my attention is fixed on the message, not the way it was delivered. “You’re really closing Loving?”
I’d known it would happen soon—empty seats don’t pay the rent or an employee’s salary—but it still feels like my safety blanket is being ripped from me again.
Purple and white, with unicorns and shiny silver stars.
Someone spilled beer on the floor at one of my parents’ late-night parties, and all of the towels were dirty, so my mother stumbled into my room and took the blanket. Danny was staying over at Shane’s house that night, so no one was there to stop her. He washed it when he came home, but afterward I always imagined it smelled like beer. So I didn’t mind so much when it disappeared altogether.
“Yes, honey,” Eden says, taking my hand and squeezing it. “But you don’t need the diner.”
It’s not the diner I need, but it’s not Eden’s fault that I’ve started thinking of her as something she’s not. It’s these dark spots inside of me, these caverns I’ve tried to fill with different things. With Vanny. With Eden and Tank. With men who don’t love me.
Suddenly my eyes are filling with tears, so I turn from her and start walking. “You’re right,” I say, not looking at her. “It’s fine. Obviously, it’s fine. Are you going to retire somewhere warm?”
“Ruthie,” she says, but I speed up my steps.
“You’ve always liked warmer weather. I understand—”
I turn the corner, and bump into someone—
Someone tall and broad and firm and warm.
Someone who smells so familiar and safe that I’m wrapping my arms around him before I realize what I’m doing. Before I realize it’s him—the man I’m here to marry.
“Ruthie?” Shane says, as if he’s wondering whether a stranger just wrapped her arms around him. The rumble of his voice vibrates through me, deep and soothing, even though it shouldn’t be. I can feel his heart beating steadily, though rapidly, beneath my ear. Whatever other flaws he has, there’s not one single thing wrong with the way he looks. Or smells. Or feels. Despite myself, I already feel a little better—stronger—as if I sucked in some of his confidence and made it my own.
I pull back and stare at him, and for a second I’m seeing him as a stranger would—the firm jaw covered in stubble, the dark hair, cut with precision, the pretty hazel eyes. He’s wearing a suit that’s even sharper than the one my dog pissed on—gray with pinstripes and perfectly cut for his body. His tie is light green, and it does an even better job of bringing out the flecks of green in his eyes, clustered around the pupils.
There’s no denying he’s a beautiful man, or that I feel a little turned on by the thought that he will, in name, be mine. For however long this lasts, no other woman will be able to touch him.
He stares at me for a moment, his eyes wide. His mouth opens as if he wants to say something but closes again without issuing a single word. Surprise and something else, something warmer, plays on his face. His gaze flicks back to Eden and Charlie, and he frowns.
There’s the Shane I know.
“Josie just showed,” he says. “I thought—”
“Josie’s in there?” I ask in horrified fascination. “But I didn’t invite her.”
His eyes narrow. “Maybe you told her and forgot?”
“No, I didn’t forget. I’m not eighty, Vain.” I give his chest a small shove, pretending it’s not only because I want to check if it’s still solid.
It is, and I drop my hands like they’re suddenly stone.
