Page 75 of Only Be Mine

With a week left before the wedding, I was calm in a way that surprised me. No spiraling doubts. No second-guessing. Just a steady sense of this is it. Of him.

“How was your day?” I asked.

He kissed my cheek. “Good. Played some pool. Had a couple beers.” His smile tilted. “What about you?”

I brushed my fingers over the damp shoulders of his coat. “Let me guess… It’s still raining?”

“Like cats and dogs.” He shook his head, sending droplets flying.

“Hey, stop!” I laughed, backing away. “You’re going to soak the floor. I’ll get you a towel.”

It was moments like this that made me wonder if he’d lived alone too long, just him and Baby and no one around to tell him not to fling rainwater everywhere.

He peeled off his jacket and draped it over the sink, still smiling. I grabbed a towel and stood on my toes to dry his hair, the way I always did. It felt domestic and easy and right.

I opened the bag. Chinese food. Sesame chicken, fried rice - the good kind. The kind we saved for nights when neither of us felt like trying.

I pulled plates from the cabinet and John portioned the food out.

“How was your day?” he asked again.

“Quiet,” I said, sitting down. “Almost too quiet. I took the day off and did absolutely nothing.”

He smiled. “And now you feel guilty about it.”

“Yes,” I said, laughing. “Exactly. Like I forgot something important, even though I didn’t.”

“I get that way with work,” he said. “I’ll lie awake replaying everything.”

“I know,” I said softly.

And I did. He always understood me in a way that felt effortless. I didn’t have to translate myself. I didn’t have to soften the edges.

“How’s Seth?” I asked.

The pause was subtle, but it was there.

John took another bite, chewing slowly, his gaze dropping to his plate. The air shifted, just enough for me to notice.

He didn’t answer.

I waited, forcing myself not to fill the silence.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “How are the bridesmaids’ dresses coming?”

I blinked. “Tonight’s the final fitting.” I glanced at my watch. “In about two hours.”

“That’s tonight?” His voice wobbled slightly, and he laughed like he hadn’t meant it to. “I was just, uh, wondering something.”

My stomach tightened.

“What is it?” I asked, already reaching for my phone. “Do you need me to reschedule?”

“No, no,” he said quickly. “Nothing like that.”

I frowned. John didn’t stumble over words. Not with me.

He inhaled slowly. “Would Gerry be able to make one more dress before Saturday?”