"Me neither," he muttered.
"Anyway, can we just talk about them throwing a black-tie party? When we were kids, Mom wouldn't wear anything aside from hemp dyed with natural colors. Remember that? And she used to make bags from woven grass? Come on, you have to remember that."
"I remember the grass belts," Ash said. "Those were heinous."
"It was impossible to get them unbuckled in time. The number of near-accidents I had in kindergarten was outrageous," I said.
"And now we're having a fancy-pants party at a country club," Magnolia said. "It's almost like they've forgotten they were earthy-crunchy socialists once upon a time."
"Do you think that's just what happens as you grow up?" I asked. "Do you gradually reshape your ideals as time passes?"
Was that even possible? Was it a matter of bartering away your ideals or finding new ones that fit better? I didn't know but I had the sense people weren't supposed to be one stationary, static thing their entire lives. People were supposed to live a lot of lives in their time on this planet. They were supposed to reinvent themselves and reevaluate their beliefs. They were supposed to look back and shake their head at the things they did before they knew better. They were supposed to get all the second chances.
"Or is it more a matter of going into semiretirement and filling your days with golf?" Ash said. "I don't know about Mom but that's what happened to Dad."
"Mom fell down the rabbit hole with the first pair of Tory Burch sandals I bought her. It's a slow-growing addiction but it's a brutal one."
Ash and I glanced at her and then each other.
"I want you two to promise me you'll do the heavy lifting so I can sit in a corner with my feet up. You know, assuming I haven't popped by then."
"What do we need to lift?" I checked my phone one more time but didn't see anything new from Jasper. "Shouldn't the venue take care of all that?"
"I don't think she's referring to the furniture, man," Ash replied.
"I need you two mingling. I need the ladies in your life mingling. Shield me from having to engage in small talk with all of Mom and Dad's friends who will offer endless childbirth and parenting advice while this one"—she pointed to her right side—"separates my ribs, and this one"—she pointed to the left—"dances on my bladder. Do this for me and I'll take care of the anniversary gift from all of us."
"You're going to do that anyway," I said.
"Maybe." She shrugged. "I definitely won't forget to add your names if you promise to let me sit this one out."
Before I could say anything about my desire to protect Jasper from those two hundred guests and everything they'd heard about her on cable news, Ash said, "We've got it. Just keep those babies cooking until the day after the party, would you?"
"It doesn't work that way, Ash. I can't just squeeze my legs together and hold my breath."
"I mean, yeah, sure," he replied. "But you can still try, right?"
"You're going to be just adorable when Zelda's pregnant, aren't you? An adorable little nut that just needs to be bashed over the head a few times."
Ash glanced at me, asking under his breath, "Is she being serious? I don't know."
* * *
The game ranthe full two hours I'd estimated and my sister required me and Ash to accompany her to an ice cream shop that served up scoops in bubble waffle cones. She also required each of us to order cones for ourselves—but plucked those cones from us and claimed them as hers the minute we sat down. Thankfully, her husband arrived soon after Ash texted him our location and he took over Magnolia's ice cream needs.
Ash departed for Zelda and their Haymarket apartment and, for the first time in all the sporting event outings we'd shared as siblings over the years, I was eager to return home. I didn't want to steal a few more minutes with Ash and Magnolia, didn't want to laugh over ice cream or grab another beer while watching the game's highlights. I wanted to go home to Jasper, and that—that hit me as hard as the vision of her married to me.
It was late when I arrived home and Jasper was already tucked into bed, her hair gathered in the same nighttime bun she favored. There was something enchanting about that bun, the one she wore in private, liminal moments. Maybe it was that I knew about the bun and that was the enchanting part. I wasn't sure.
The best part—the absolute best, no substitute in the world—was finding her asleep in one of my flannel shirts. She had the cuffs rolled up and left the top few buttons open, and was there anything more perfect? I didn't think so.
I undressed and climbed into bed beside her, not bothering with any form of pajamas. No need. Jasper arched against me when I pulled her to me, a soft, sleepy murmur greeting me when I ran my hand up her thigh and found her ass beautifully bare.
"That's my girl," I rumbled, grabbing a cheek and giving it a thorough kneading. "Good and ready for me."
She replied with another murmur but there was no mistake about the way she wiggled her lower body into my lap. A condom came next and some strategic organization of pillows and legs as we settled into this side-by-side position. Then I pushed inside her, snaked a hand down the front of her shirt, groaned into her hair. We moved together in languorous thrusts and echoing sighs that skated the line between dreaming and waking.
There was no rush to find the end, not when we could float in this heavenly in-between.
