Tell me I didn’t nearly call this man’s poor relative the Wicked Witch of Westmorland Street! Those are inside thoughts, Loren.
The bridal march playing in my mind has morphed into the out-of-tune chorus ofAmazingGracebecause this is now my funeral.
He mustn’t have caught my slip, because his lips tug into a smile. “Hazel was my great aunt, but I didn’t know her very well. She and my grandmother didn’t exactly get along.”
That voice. Think Clooney crossed with Damon.
Perfect. Just perfect.
If he can look past my terrible introduction, we’re destined to be together. I just know it.
Okay, maybe I don’t know. But a girl can hope, right?
He pushes his sunglasses onto his forehead, revealing a pair of deep-brown, puppy-dog eyes that look a little sad. Like a young Richard Gere or John Cusack. You know the eyes I’m talking about. When they meet mine, my stomach doesn’t just drop. It completely bottoms out.
When he holds out his hand and says, “My name is Josh,” my knees go weak.
“Loren. Loren Piper. Of Piper Funeral Homes.” Why did my mouth think it was necessary to add anything after Loren?
“Nice to meet you. Are you going to the dinner after this?”
“Oh, yes. We’re a full-service funeral home. Taking care of everything from start to finish.”
Thank goodness the beautiful man takes pity on me and chuckles.
Flashing me another perfect smile, he slides his glasses back into place. “I’ll see you there, Loren Piper of Piper Funeral Homes.”
The golden god blessing our tiny town with his presence is named Josh Bosnick.
I learned his last name over a plate of crispy fried chicken and green bean casserole in the church social hall. For reasons I cannot fathom, Josh stayed by my side the entire dinner, and then asked me out to dinner the next night.
Dinner led to a movie which led to the most glorious goodnight kiss a girl could have ever asked for which led to coffee the next morning and lunch after he finished helping his father prepare old Hazel’s home for an estate sale.
He’s charming and smart and handsome and everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner. The only downside is that he happens to live in Nashville.
That’s right.
Nashville Tenne-freaking-see. A short ten-hour commute from where we currently stand on his great aunt’s front porch.
Now there’s nothing to do but say our goodbyes.
It’s funny how someone you barely know can become so important in such a short amount of time. The thought of him leaving brings tears to my eyes.
Surely that has to mean something, considering Sean and I dated for almost two years, and when we broke up my eyes were as dry as the grass on a sunny July afternoon.
Josh hugs me tight and presses the sweetest of kisses to my lips, saying, “I wish we had more time.”
It’s like the end of one of those terrible movies I watched as a kid that you thought was a romance but ends up being a depressing drama. My heart feels like it’s being shattered into a billion pieces by one of those comically large sledgehammers at the county fair.
I kiss Josh one last time and wave goodbye as I watch him drive away.
My mother calls from our porch, telling me someone needs to collect the lilies from the florist for tomorrow’s funeral.
Is this how I want my life to play out? An endless wheel of death and sickeningly sweet flowers and hearses?
Hell no.
When you find love, you chase after it, no questions asked.
