After he swore me in, he gestured for me to sit. I handed him my documents.
“Did you have a nice drive here?” he opened.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Who drove?”
“Both of us. We came in separate cars from Riviera View. We wanted both our cars here.”
“It’s a long drive. When did you wake up?”
“June woke at six, as always, jogged until seven, and woke me up after she showered.” These weren’t ice-breaking questions, we were deep in the interview now.
“Managed to have breakfast?”
“She drank her green powder tea—something terrible—and I had my coffee. We don’t usually eat in the morning. I stopped to get a sandwich on the way, and she always has a pack of sugar-free dried fruit in her bag.”
“Who decorated your house in Riviera View?”
“June. She’s had it years since before we met. It’s beautiful.” I went on to describe it a little, even without him asking. “My contribution is not to mess it up and avoid putting my shoes on the coffee table.”
“You have plants? Who waters them?”
“We both do. She named them after the parents fromSeinfeld.”
“You watchSeinfeldtogether?”
“We both love it. I think she loves it for the misanthropy.” I huffed an unplanned dry chuckle. “But she’s nothing of a misanthrope. She’s a perfectionist, an idealist. She has lists for everything and can be critical of others sometimes, but she feels deeply even if she’d never admit it. She cares about people and wants everyone to be healthy and well. She wanted to go to medical school originally, but her family couldn’t afford it. But she found the right niche for her. She’s smart and a good people manager. She’s running a tough business, but she knows to be soft. She’s challenging, stubborn, but she’s perfect just the way she is.”
He looked at me as if I had just given him a TED talk he hadn’t signed up for, but it felt good to get this off my chest and talk about her even to this man. “What side of the bed does she take?”
“Left.”
“Any scars or tattoos?”
“A tiny scar on her right ankle, no tattoos. Though if she ever gets one, it’d be of a rose, her birth month flower.”
“Where was your last vacation?”
“We did a staycation in Riviera View.” June and I had agreed on it and had the pictures ready.
“How’s your relationship with her family?”
That was a question we’d feared. “I haven’t met them yet. June is worried they won’t easily accept her choosing me.” Saying those words hurt. She hadn’t chosen me. “But from everything I heard of them, they want her to be happy, and I’m sure they’ll accept us.”
“I see.”
I wrung my hands under the table. I had to pass this interview for her sake. “Her best friend, Rio, knows. She’s incredibly supportive, and we have a good rapport. I think June’s sisters will react the same as soon as we tell them. We intend to.”
“So, you haven’t celebrated any holidays together?”
“Not with her family.”
“Or yours?”
“Not yet, but my mom and brothers know about June. They’re happy for us.”
For another hour, he continued asking about June’s favorite food, which was easy for me to describe; her favorite pizza toppings, which I chuckled at, given she didn’t go near pizza; and other questions about her daily habits that were easy to answer.
