“Ahem,” a voice says.
I let go of Winnie, and instinct has me shielding her. We’re both still clothed, but she probably doesn’t want anyone else seeing her like this: face flushed, hair mussed, mouth red and swollen.
Thankfully, it’s just Ronda, the owner and bartender of the Neon Horseshoe, smirking at us over her glasses. “I’m understaffed tonight so I came to make sure the bathrooms were in decent shape. Didn’t expect to find the two of you here.”
“Sorry ma’am,” Winnie says from behind me. “We didn’t mean to be so indecent.”
“Honey, this bar has seen a lot worse than a few kisses in the hallway.”
“Well, uh, good then,” Winnie says. “The women’s bathroom is fine by the way. I was just in there and it even smelled pretty good. For you know, a bathroom.”
Ronda laughs, her smile stretching across her face. “I like you. You’re Winnie, right? The new girl staying over at the Wilson’s?”
“That’s right.” Winnie darts out from behind me, and shakes Ronda’s hand. “I love your scarf by the way. It’s gorgeous.”
“Oh this old thing?” Ronda says, gesturing at the patterned scarf holding her braids back from her face. “I got this at a little boutique in Rockwell Falls. Wish we had something like that here.”
Winnie nods eagerly. “I noticed that there weren’t any cute clothing stores in Star Mountain! It made me a bit sad.”
Ronda nods in agreement. “Now, you two go on back to your tables and when I get back to the bar, the next round is on me.” Then she disappears into the bathroom, cleaning supplies in hand.
Winnie and I stare awkwardly at one another for a moment once Ronda has left. I don’t think either of us was expecting the kiss we shared to go like it did, and now neither of us seems to know what to say.
“So, uh, good practice!” Winnie pipes up after a moment. “See you tomorrow! I need to get back to Candice and Jenny, now.”
And then she’s high-tailing it down the hallway and back into the bar, leaving me with the memory of her body against mine, and the taste of her in my mouth.
I only have one suit.And I have no idea if it’s good enough to wear to my wedding or not. My hands itch to pick up my phone and call my mom to ask for her advice, but I promised myself I’d tell my parents after—after the papers are signed, and the moneyis transferred. I’ll tell them once Winnie and I are married, and there’s nothing they can do to stop me.
I never imagined what my wedding might be like.
I had a serious girlfriend a few years ago, but when my mom got sick, Jessica broke up with me. She left me when I needed her most and it was a knife to the gut. From the moment I told her my mom had cancer, she started pulling away, and when she finally left, I was already too numb from the shock of how quickly my mom had deteriorated to really process Jessica leaving. Nothing else was as important to me as spending time with my mom: going to hospital appointments, holding her hand during chemo infusions, and rubbing her back while she was vomiting. My dad was there too, and together we made sure she had all the support she needed.
I haven’t dated anyone seriously since, and I’ve certainly never thought about marriage. While my mom was in treatment, it hurt too much to imagine the future, because I wasn’t sure she’d be in it. So I just avoided thinking about it all together. And after Jessica, I’m admittedly wary of commitment—what’s to stop the next woman leaving when things get tough? What’s to stop my mom from getting sick again?
I adjust the lapels of my suit and sigh. It fits me, at least. But the material is cheap and I know it won’t be as nice as whatever Winnie is wearing. Maybe it shouldn’t matter. Even if this marriage is real on paper, everything else about it is fake. And we’re just getting married in a courthouse. Maybe a suit is the completelywrongchoice after all. Winnie might show up in those jeans she likes so much, for all I know.
What the fuck else can I wear, though? My wardrobe is purely functional: comfortable, sturdy clothes I can work in and that last. I decide to stick with the suit, knowing that my mom would say too formal is always better than underdressed. Ipocket the wooden rose I carved last week and a small box on my nightstand, and then I’m out the door and on my way.
18
WINNIE
Candice,Nathan, and I are waiting for Jonah at the courthouse. It’s a beautiful old building, with great pillars outside and a parquet floor inside. I fiddle with my sleeves and briefly wonder if Jonah will bother to show up. Maybe he’s having second thoughts. Maybe I should have worn jeans and a t-shirt after all, instead of this white dress. If Jonah doesn’t come, everyone will know that I’ve been jilted.
It’s a simple sheath dress, with three quarter length sleeves, in heavy white silk. I think it’s vintage, but I honestly can’t remember how I even got it. It was probably one of the many late night online purchases I made while living with my parents.
“He’ll be here, sweetie,” Candice says. “Don’t worry.”
“And if not, I’ve got two brothers who would be more than happy to marry you,” Nathan says with a wink. “Neither of them are upstanding, and they’re both annoying as hell, but they are alive and breathing.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Jonah’s voice says from behind us. I turn and find him standing there in a deep blue suit, his hands in his pockets, and a frown across his face.
“Um, great,” I say. “Should we go in? I have the license for us to fill out and sign and there are a few couples getting married before us.”
Jonah simply nods, and then holds his hand out to me. In it is a wooden rose, its petals and thorns carved in intricate detail. “Here,” he says gruffly. “You should probably have a bouquet on your wedding day.”
I take the flower from him with shaking hands. “Thank you.” I glance at Candice and she’s trying to hide a smile.
