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Locking the door after Glen, I trudged back to the kitchen. Vera gave me a stern look and ordered me to finish my breakfast.
"If you're going to be this grumpy over coffee, you can have more, but it's going to give you a better boost if you cut down to two cups a day."
"It's not about coffee," I answered but still poured myself another cup. "It's the addiction. For a couple of years, I had a drinking problem. You know, like father, like son."
Vera stopped loading up another bag and gave me her full attention. "Did you get violent?"
"No." I looked at my right hand. "Well, yeah, one time. Punched a hole through the wall and then, after I slept it off, I quit drinking."
"Caffeine can make you manic, but nothing that bad. You're safe," she said as she returned to the last bag.
"Is that your professional opinion?"
"Yes, and I won't even charge you for it, my Snuggly Boo."
I chuckled, finished my food, then took the rest of our supplies to the car. Vera joined me a minute later, carrying only an empty basket.
"What's with the basket?" I asked.
"You never know when you'll need a basket." She buckled in, letting me drive four hours to the campsite.
My earlier paranoia that we were too much like a real family had been silly. This was definitely make-believe. Real families were never this good.
"What are you grinning at?" Vera asked.
"Just thinking that we suck at faking it. We need to have a fight."
She sighed, rolled her eyes, and said, "You ruined the best years of my life."
"Couldn't have ruined them that bad if they were your best. When did we start dating, by the way?"
"See? You're a terrible fiancé. You can't even remember our anniversary. Next, you'll tell me you don't remember the date we picked for the wedding." She gave a very convincing huff.
"I'm a great fiancé," I answered. "We met a year and a half ago when I came to visit Damian for Christmas. After our long-distance relationship, I finally decided it was all or nothing and moved to New York. A week later, I popped the question, and you said, 'yes, yes, Snuggly Boo, I'm yours.' And then you showed me this giant binder with the frilliest wedding dresses you have been collecting since the day we met because you knew this was for good."
"You have an overactive imagination." Vera looked out the window, thinking for a few seconds before giving me her version of events. "The way we met was when you spilled your drink on me at the Christmas party. It was my favorite dress, and you completely ruined it. So, I had a binder full of perfectly sensible dresses that you had to buy me before I would marry you."
"All of them?" I asked. "There's at least twenty in there.”
"Nice try. There are exactly seventy-three dresses and fifty-two matching purses because the purse I had to match my favorite dress is completely useless now. It doesn't match anything."
"Don't forget about shoes. You'll need them to match all those purses." It might leave me broke, but screw it, I actually wanted to buy all of that and more for her.
“That’s going to be a good excuse for why we hadn’t set the date yet. It’ll take you years to get me all of that.” Vera leaned back, comfortable.
“Depends on the price. If you ask for some Gucci crap, it might take decades, but I can afford normal people’s clothes. Just tell me what to buy and where because I hate shopping.”
She frowned, tilting her head to the side. “I was joking about that. You don’t have to buy me anything.”
“I owe you big time. I mean, you volunteered to have your whole life thrown into my trash fire, moved in with me, cooking, and tutoring Glen. A few dresses are the least I can do to repay you.”
“Now that you put it that way.” She pulled out her phone. “I'm going to make a wish list. You don’t have to get me everything on it.”
