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“It’s the dried cranberries plus the apples,” I said lightly, knowing perfectly well it was the excitement of the day. Paul could have served boiled shoe, and it would have been memorable and equally appreciated by the glowing newly-engaged couple. I doubted either of them tasted a thing. Brandon had packed away a stunning amount of bacon, but he too seemed lit from within. And relieved. Probably that most of all, the way he kept smiling to himself like he’d narrowly avoided some terrible fate.

“The real maple syrup was a nice touch. Let Gideon menu plan more often.” He bumped Paul’s shoulder before grinning at me. “Paul never met a generic knockoff he didn’t love.”

“Paul is impressive with a budget. Fake syrup probably meant more science fairs for you.” I kept my voice easy, but I gave Brandon a pointed look. He was a great guy and no doubt as smart as advertised, but he was also remarkably clueless to all Paul had given up for him. The photo from Elaine had been thoughtful, but a few lines of poetry weren’t the same as truly appreciating Paul’s sacrifices on a meaningful level.

“Oh. Yeah.” Brandon at least had the grace to blush. “Things were tight before Paul got his first house especially. The apartment was so teeny that even that little tree of ours seemed huge. Paul tried though. Every year, we’d drive around for hours looking at lights. I dragged Elaine out last year to see the lights in the suburbs near the university, but it wasn’t the same.”

“What? No stack of candy canes and cheap hot chocolate to keep you company in the back seat?” Paul teased, but his mouth was tight. I hoped he wasn’t irked at my prodding Brandon, but it had needed saying. He’d done so much, and my heart broke every time I pictured him and Brandon alone for Christmas, Paul doing the best he could. Brandon damn well better name a phenomenon for him. He deserved it.

“Elaine lets me have extra marshmallows. But I mean it. I missed this.”

“Don’t go getting sappy,” Paul ordered. “We all know you’re not trading in all that sunshine.”

Brandon glanced at Elaine. “You never know.”

“I know it’s a tight market for professors, but you both aren’t going to have a problem finding offers.” Paul sounded so resigned that it was a good thing he was out of arm’s reach from me because the man needed a good shaking.

“You—” Brandon started, but Elaine tapped her lips, and he changed directions. “We’ll see.”

He shrugged, but now I was curious. Paul needed to simply tell them he wanted them to job hunt on this coast. But, of course, he wouldn’t. Stubborn man.

“Is it weird that I totally want to go out and get a big stack of wedding magazines?” Elaine asked in a clear bid to change the topic.

“You’re going to be a bridezilla.” Leaving his seat next to Paul, Brandon stood behind her and rubbed her shoulder. “You can even drag me to one of those wedding showcase events back home. I don’t mind. Just remember to say I do.”

“I will.” She smiled brightly. “I won’t keep you waiting again. Promise. I’ll write my vows on cue cards.”

“You better.” Brandon kissed the side of her head, dopey grin still firmly in place. They were so in love it hurt, and those few moments when I’d thought she’d been about to say no had been terrifying. It would have crushed Brandon’s whole world. Honestly, his bravery was admirable.

Putting one’s heart on the line was a risk worse than skydiving if you asked me. No thank you. Even secondhand, the terror had been palpable. But then she’d said yes, and he’d smiled, and maybe, for an instant, I had wanted…something. I still wasn’t sure, only that Paul’s hand in mine had been the only thing keeping me from shattering from the emotional jolt. Even now, I felt rather fragile, a coffee cup repaired too many times. Not to be trusted.

“You should use the song Brandon made the train play at the wedding.” Trying to distance myself from my muddled thoughts, I started clearing away the breakfast dishes and packaging up the leftover food.

“Yes!” Elaine beamed at me as she took a stack of plates to the sink. “You’re the best with details.”

“You’re the one who can see discrepancies in subatomic particles,” I teased as I wrapped up the leftover waffles.

“I don’t know what sort of dress I want yet, but I can’t wait to wear those earrings.” Elaine touched Paul’s shoulder lightly as she scooped up the syrup container.

“You don’t have to wear them for the wedding.” Paul’s cheeks turned ruddy, and he looked down at his hands.

“I want to. Something old. Something new. Something borrowed. Something blue.” She counted off the old saying on her fingers. “The pearls will be good luck. Thank you, again.”

She’d said it earlier when Paul had given her the box, getting misty eyes and waving her hands in front of her face, but I wasn’t sure Paul believed her that his gesture meant a great deal.

“I’m happy for you both,” he said stiffly, then gave a rusty laugh like he was making a herculean effort to push off any weighty thoughts about his mom. “I don’t suppose I can tell you to elope?”

“Absolutely no fun in that.” Elaine laughed. “But I do plan to keep it small.”

“You’re not getting out of the speech-writing or the suit-wearing.” Brandon had a stern stare for Paul.

“Speech?” Paul blinked.

“Haven’t you been to many weddings?” Elaine’s eyes narrowed.

“The best man always does a toast.” Brandon used a slow voice like Paul might need some extra time to catch up. “And there’s no one else I’d want to ask.”

Swallowing audibly, Paul nodded. “I’d be honored.”

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