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“Great,” June skimmed the notes. “So once I fix these guidelines, I’ll send to you for approval?”
“You don’t need to, I trust you. This is still your shindig, even if Dragan stole my thunder.” She smiled at June, her expression softening when June didn’t smile back. “Are you okay? With everything that happened?”
June shrugged. “It is what it is. I had expectations, which was part of the problem in the first place. The one time I needed to just love and accept him for who he was, I couldn’t because I was too scared. And I’m worried he doesn’t understand what I need, and it’s too la—“
“Juney?” Walter poked his head into the office, a large box in his hand.
“Here, Pop.” June rushed over, taking the package from him. No return address.
“Otto just dropped it off,” he said, hands on his hips while he looked around the room, grazing the sunflowers with his fingers. “You always were the sun, June.” He paused, fingering the flowers. “I remember when he was seven, the four of us were out having ice cream. And you and Grandma were at the counter, and there was a field of sunflowers behind us. I said, ‘Look how pretty those sunflowers are! How lucky we are to live in a place with so much beauty.’ And that boy, at seven years old, said to me, his little face so serious, ‘But you live with the sun, Walter. June is the sun. She’s my sun.’ And then he just ate his ice cream like he hadn’t said the sweetest thing. And you guys came back to the picnic table.” Her grandpa turned to her. “Even back then, he knew how special you were. Just like you knew how special he was. Let me know if you gals need anything.” He tipped his head to Ruby and shuffled out, leaving them in silence.
June glanced at Ruby. Her lips were pursed, eyes wide while she pretended she hadn’t just heard Walter’s story.
Ruby looked up and shook her head, turning back to the papers. “I’m not saying anything.”
June sighed, her grandpa’s story hitting her, wishing she’d known sooner. It wouldn’t have changed anything, not exactly. But just knowing that someone else had been privy to
She set the box on the table, grabbing scissors and slicing open the tape. Opening the flaps, she picked up the printed note on white card stock, almost dropping it when it revealed the box beneath.
Chanel.
Her heart raced, and she read the note.
Meet me tomorrow night, 6pm at 244 Spring Street
Wear this.
xx
Setting the not carefully on the table, she pulled out the designer box and pushed the shipping one to the floor. June stared on the pristine lines, tracing the lettering. Ruby had stopped what she was doing and watched in eager anticipation.
June lifted the lid and pushed aside the tissue paper.
Soft silk, the color of french blue, was piled into the box. When she lifted the fabric, it poured out the box like a waterfall. The dress had slim straps, the bodice fitted with a length of fabric pulled across the stomach, fitted to the hip and coming up the back in a sort of defining sash. The skirt of the dress flowed out from the sash, a gauzy wonder that slipped through June’s fingers as she touched it.
“Holy…” Ruby’s breath caught, her hand tentatively reaching for the fabric. She looked at June. “This is stunning. I’ve been around money and nice things, and this is stunning.”
June’s cheeks heated, his words from the fight coming back to her.
I wanted to have one real date with you, like what it should’ve been before.
It hit her just then, that’s exactly what that date was. She had even worn a dress from high school, and his suit was a touch too tight. Not because he didn’t have money for a new one, but because that’s what he would’ve worn.
He wanted to give their old selves a chance to be together.
And now he was welcoming the new.
57
A soft wind blew through the porch of 244 Spring Street, bringing with it the promise of spring. Dragan looked over the walkway that led to the porch. It was lined with white lights and bunches of magnolias. He’d filled in the spaces with white peonies and pink roses, purple hydrangeas and yellow daisies.
It was an aisle, fit for the love of his life.
He tugged on the sleeve of his new Burberry suit, anxious to see her silhouette marching down the sidewalk. It was just past 6 p.m. He was trying not to read into it, but this was it. If this didn’t work, he would have to respect her wishes.
He loved her too much not to.
The night was well-lit by a waxing moon, the stars still visible through the bright haze. He looked up and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
