Two identical rings in identical sizes, which I kind of love. They’ll truly be ours; not mine and his. It feels even more special because we can wear each other’s whenever we want. We might end up doing so without realizing it.
We hadn’t made an appointment ahead of time for Jarel’s, but we did for the wedding attire place we found. I booked online for after lunch and we spent the hour beforehand trying to work ourselves up to be decisive today. We managed to do so for the rings. That means we’re getting off on the right track.
Hopefully. Fingers crossed.
“Hello, Mr. Yreka,” the woman says as soon as I step inside. She offers me her hand. “My name is Sandra.” I’m slightly surprised and even more so when she turns to Keno and says, “Mr. Edgewood. It’s wonderful to meet you both.”
Keno and I exchange looks.
“Have we met before?” I ask.
She laughs. “No. Sorry. My son plays hockey. He’s a huge fan, so I’ve seen pictures of you two a hundred times.”
“Ah. Okay. Please thank him for being a fan,” I say, smiling.
“I wish we had something to send home with you.” Keno looks at me. “There might be one of your spare sticks in the car.”
“Oh, no. Please don’t feel obligated. I just wanted you to know I’m not a creepy fan stalking you. My son actually met you both at a game last year. He has a picture standing between the two of you. It sits on our fireplace mantle. It’s his most prized possession.”
“That’s super sweet.”
Sandra leads us to a table to the right. “Okay, so what direction are you leaning in?” she asks as we take our seats. “Formal like a tux or more casual like you might wear to a hockey game?”
I totally love that she’s familiar with hockey. Keno and I look at each other and simultaneously say, “Neither.”
She laughs. “Okay, that’s fine. What are you looking for? What’s your theme? We can start there and see what fits in.”
Keno sighs.
“That’s the problem. We don’t have a theme. We tried for weeks to find one we liked and came up short. So we ditched the theme idea and have decided to go with colors and let that lead us,” I say.
“That’s fine too. What colors—” She stops when we both shake our heads.
“We don’t know. It’s been nearly a week and we’re no closer to choosing colors than we had been on picking a theme,” Keno says defeatedly.
“Can I help?” she asks.
Keno and I both say, “Yes!” Probably a little too enthusiastically.
Sandra grins. “We’re going to play a game. I’m going to give you options or ask you a simple question. You answer with the very thing that comes to mind. Don’t think about it. Just answer. Okay?”
We nod.
“Do you prefer coffee or tea?”
“Tea,” I answer.
Keno hesitates for a minute before answering with the same.
“Why did you pause?” Sandra asks.
I’m grinning because I already know this answer.
“I don’t like either. I was going to say hot cocoa, but I didn’t think I was allowed to choose something other than the choices you gave me.”
She chuckles. “Fair enough. You’re allowed to say neither. Ready?” We nod. “Morning or night?”
“Night,” we both answer.
