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Long-distance relationships were notoriously flawed and for good reason, and tonight marked a month since their last face-to-face date. She only hoped she didn’t find out firsthand why.
Eric had a special way about him. Attentive and kind and dedicated to his work. She clucked her tongue, rolling that thought around in her head. Maybe too dedicated.
He made her feel comfortable and safe, and he loved to take her intooh my god, just one more orgasm territory, but what about the supposed butterflies in the stomach she’d heard about over and over from her girlfriends, clients, sisters? Sex butterflies didn’t count. Ever since her oldest sister got engaged a year back, Juniper longed to experience that kind of connection. The kind that left her breathless and with a constant glow with added sex butterflies.
Glowing sounded nice.
Maybe love felt different for everyone.
Who the hell knew? Just because she planned weddings for a living didn’t mean she understood all the aspects of relationships. Far from it! But one thing was for certain—change was in the air and it caused unwanted jitters to rush through her.
Plus, she had picture proof to back up her gut feeling.
While list checking, refining, and wrangling the last of the wedding details together, the morning before Callie had texted a snapshot of Eric in full-color ring shopping. Or at least that’s how it looked. Back in town only hours, he was spotted in a jewelry shop and not just any jewelry shop. He’d been looking over a black case she could only assume held rings from Los Angeles’ most desirable jewelry shop known for its unique cut gems and designs. A girl got ideas after seeing a thing like that.
“What if we have this all wrong?” Running a finger over the rim of her glass, she turned to Callie, worried.
“What if you don’t?” she countered with a devilish grin on her lips. “A man doesn’t window shop for rings, Jun. Your man has a plan and it's spelled PUT-A-RING-ON-IT!”
Juniper scrunched her nose with a laugh. Great, now that song would follow her all night.
Juniper held up her left hand and studied the as-of-yet empty ring finger.
While other young girls had been out competing in how many frogs they could catch versus the neighborhood boys, Juniper preferred the quiet retreat of her treehouse and the latest magazines on lavish weddings. Since the ripe age of ten, she could spot the difference between a Vera Wong masterpiece and a knockoff.
Her brothers loved to pick on and tease her as she planned lavish Barbie and Ken weddings.
She shifted her gaze to the sea of stars that peeked out from the bank of clouds rolling by.
Yes. She wasthatgirl. The one that dreamed about happily-ever-afters and believed everyone deserved true love. Even her dolls.
She’d planned enough weddings, worked with enough brides and grooms to know not everyone ended up with the perfect counterpart though. Flaws or glitches were to be expected.
That’s why she had a plan when it came to her love life. A list to be exact—a how to pick your perfect man list. A twelve-point list of what she wanted in a man. Her eight-ball, so to speak, in the murky unknowns of love.
“I can see it on your face, woman. You already compared him to your ‘perfect man list’ haven’t you?”
Juniper rolled her eyes at Callie’s accusation. “You asked the same question the other day.”
“And you didn’t answer.”
“If you must know, I’ve given him a solid eight out of twelve, so far.” She could tell her friend held no faith for her to ever marry either.
“I knew it.” Callie tapped the side of her head and her lips pulled into a small grin. “I bet he can’t be too happy about that. Hard to believe he’s only hit eight of your twelve rules, though. He’s a solid nine at least from the way he fills out a pair of jeans.” Her friend’s eyebrows shot up with her hands at her confession. “Just sayin’.”
Juniper shrugged. “They are not rules, per se. Just solid guidelines. I’m giving him time to work up to all twelve. Seems fair, no? I mean, he doesn’t even know what he’s competing against.” Juniper added to Callie’s surprise, judging by how her mouth gaped open.
“You’re kidding. He doesn’t know? Awkward. What about the dimples? That should earn him a reprieve from a couple of your rules at least.”
Juniper smothered a groan with a half-hearted chuckle. “I’m a terrible date, Cal. My history should speak for itself. Maybe I should come with a warning label and an instruction manual.” Regardless of her desire to be counted among the married, she didn’t hold out high hopes of it happening any time soon.
“I don’t know. That’s probably true with half the population of California. Hell, the world. Do you know what you’re going to say when he asks? Do you think he’s the one?”
“I…” Juniper furrowed her brows. What would she say? Until that very second, she thought for sure the answer would be yes. At twenty-five, she wanted safety and reliability. Not the struggle and daily dread of the unknown. Where was a magic eight-ball when a girl needed one?
“I don’t really know. I guess we’ll both find out.” She needed to let go mentally and let her man list do the heavy lifting.
An hour later Juniper finally skidded into the restaurant they agreed to meet at and stopped to catch her breath. Running four blocks from her office in heels took almost the last of her energy. Luck had to be the only way she didn’t break a heel and take out all the misfortunate pedestrians.
