“It’s the only bar in town, so you’ll have to deal with a combined bachelor-bachelorette party,” Beau says. He walks over and starts trying to shepherd us to the front door.
“I need my coat!” Jenny yelps.
“And I need another shot,” Candice says.
I shake my head and meet Beau’s eyes. I’m the most sober one at my own bachelorette. But it’s sweet how enthusiastically my friends have taken to the idea of me marrying Jonah. I finish my drink and tug my fur coat on, relishing the soft feel of the collar against my face.
“See, I knew I’d find a place to wear this out,” I tell Beau with a smirk.
“Sure, and the thigh high boots are a nice touch,” he says.
“Aren’t they?” I stick my leg out and he laughs. These gold thigh high boots are glamorous as fuck, and pair perfectly with the white dress I have on underneath my coat.
“Leggo!” Jenny says, marching to the front door and flinging it open.
“What are the chances we all make it home in one piece tonight?” Beau mutters.
“Slim to none,” Candice confirms.
We all pile into Beau’s truck, where Nathan is already waiting. After a few minutes of begging, Beau puts on one of Candice’s Kacey Musgraves CDs and soon, Pageant Material is blasting through the truck speakers. We sing along like drunken loons all the way to the Horseshoe, and even Beau and Nathan join in.
The bar is busy, though there are still a few tables left. The drag show is just getting started and the small wooden stage is awash in a rainbow of colors. The Neon Horseshoe may not seem like the best location for a drag show at first glance, as it’s fairly rustic and probably qualifies as a dive bar. There’s a pool table and a juke box, a wall completely covered in stickers and graffiti, tables made of rough wooden planks and barrels, and a bar top that is scratched and worn. But bright decorations bring it all together, and the drag queens seem right at home.
We snag a table close to the stage, and Candice and Jenny make the boys sit at a separate one nearby.
“What is the bride-to-be having?” Jenny asks me, hand on one suede clad hip. She poured herself into a pair of soft brown suede pants for the evening, along with a short pink top.
I pause to think about what I want, and that’s when I see him.
My future husband. He’s wearing a short sleeve white t-shirt that hugs his muscular torso and shows off his inked arms, and as my eyes travel upwards, they snag on the strong, thick column of his throat, and then again on his sharp jaw. He shaved his beard shorter than normal, revealing a face that is carved from stone. He pushes a hand through his dark gold hair and looks around.
I feel the exact moment he sees me, and my whole body locks, unable to look away from him. I shiver as he meets mygaze, aware, for what feels like the first time, that Jonah Smith basically looks like a Norse god. And he’s about to be my husband.
“Fuck,” I say under my breath.
“That’s not a drink, hon,” Jenny says. “Though I’m sure Jonah would oblige if you asked him.”
“In his dreams. I’ll have one of those rainbow drinks I’ve seen everyone with.”
Both Jenny and Candice head over to the bar, and I’m left waiting at the table. Jonah strides over to me, his long legs eating up the distance between us.
“Hey,” he says, sitting down next to me.
“Hi.” I glance at him, and then quickly look away. He’s too close like this, too large. I feel like I can’t breathe, like his body is caging mine in even though he hasn’t touched me.
Silence spreads between us, as we’re both clearly unsure what to say to one another. I mean, whatdoyou talk about with your husband-to-be who you’ve only known for two weeks?
“What’s your favorite food?” I blurt out. I’m determined to know just a bit about him.
“My mom’s triple berry pie with crumble topping is definitely first. And then probably apples,” Jonah says easily. It’s a relief that he answered my question instead of pointing out how awkward it was.
“Apples?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Apples. I like that they’re crunchy and come in lots of varieties. What about you?”
“Do you want a pageant answer or a real answer?” I turn in my seat to face him, and find that he has a faint smile on his face, like he’s enjoying this inane conversation.
“The real one. I always want the real one.”
