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“This is my best man, Asher,” Wes says to the salesperson.
“I’m Luther. I just need to take a few measurements, and I’ll have you try on a couple of jackets and pants. Then, I’ll get you out of here,” Luther says.
“Excellent,” I say.
Luther begins measuring every inch of me. Well, every inch, except for the one part of my body where size really matters—at least, I think so. When he’s done, he thinks for a moment and then grabs a couple of jackets and pants.
He carries them into a dressing room. “Try them on. I might have to make some adjustments with the jacket. You will have to go up a size or two to fit your biceps, but then we will need to take it in at the waist to fit everywhere else.”
I head into the dressing room and begin trying on the first pair of pants. It feels strange to wear anything this formal. I haven’t worn anything this formal since—
I stop thinking. I will not let my mind go there. Not today.
I try the jacket on over my T-shirt. It’s a bit snug, so I try the larger size and then step out of the dressing room.
“Just as I suspected. To fit you in the arms and chest, you need the bigger jacket, but we are going to have to take it in to make it fit your waist.”
Luther starts messing with the jacket, trying to ensure it will fit, while I stand there, sweating in the thick material.
“Did you say where you are getting married, Wes?” I ask.
“The beach,” he answers.
It’s like I suspected.
“Are you sure you are going to want to wear tuxes on the beach in summertime in Hawaii? You do know it gets hot here, right?”
Wes frowns. “I didn’t really think about it, but now that you mention it—”
“I already told you that the tuxes were stupid. You should just wear khakis and a dress shirt,” Sloane says, seemingly appearing from nowhere.
I smile when I see her. I didn’t realize that she would be here, but it makes my day so much better.
“Khakis and a dress shirt, I could get behind as well,” I say.
I wink at Sloane. She just rolls her eyes and focuses her attention on Wes.
“I need to think about it. I’m not sure khakis are formal enough.”
Sloane throws her hands up in defeat. “You don’t have time to decide. You have to decide today.”
“Then, tuxes. This is going to be in every newspaper in the country. It will be going in countless magazines. I want to look like I’m getting married, not like I’m a bum hanging out at the beach one day.”
“We are going to be sweating like pigs in these, man. Just think about that,” I say.
“I don’t care. It’s just for a couple of hours. It won’t be that bad,” Wes says.
“Don’t say I didn’t tell you so,” Sloane says.
“What do you think of the fit, Ms. Hart?” Luther asks.
Sloane walks over to me and pretends to care about how my jacket and pants are fitting. “Seems to fit fine, but I’m guessing he’ll want it a bit looser with all the sweating he will be doing.”
I laugh.
Wes frowns.
“Oh, come on. I’m only kidding,” Sloane says.
