“Wouldn’t have it anywhere else,” he says.
“And Stormy will be doing the draping. And Sheila will do the food. And Tex will be behind the bar. And Dante is my best man. Your parents will be here. My mom and aunt are going to cry before the music starts. The music is going to be the jukebox because I’m not hiring a DJ for my own wedding when there is a perfectly good jukebox six feet away.”
“That’s a lot of planning for you to do,” Mickey says.
“I can’t wait! This will be so much fun. The only thing missing right now is Dante. He should be here. He should be standing on this deck with a glass of champagne telling me myhair is a disaster. And my ring is perfect and that he knew this was going to happen before either of us did. He knew the day he met you.”
“Benji, I knew you were gone the second I watched you put two-hundred-dollar cream on that man’s feet.”
The voice comes from behind me, inside the bar. I stop breathing and turn around.
Dante is standing in the doorway. Slim black pants. White linen shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. He’s holding a bottle of good champagne in one hand and his phone in the other.
“Dante!”
“Hi, Benji.”
“How are you — you’re — what—”
“Use your words, Benji.”
“How are you here?” I shout at him.
He steps onto the deck. “I flew in last night. I’ve been at the apartment since eleven. Mickey told me to set an alarm for five and to be downstairs at five-forty-five and to keep my damn mouth shut until the ring was on your finger.” He looks at my hand. “Is the ring on your finger yet?”
I hold up my left hand and flash the silver band at him.
“The ring is on his finger,” Mickey says from his chair.
“Excellent. Then I’m allowed to talk.” Dante sets the champagne on the railing and opens his arms. “Come here.”
I crash into him. Full body, no restraint, in a hug that almost takes us both over the railing.
“You knew,” I say into his chest. “You knew he was proposing and you didn’t tell me.”
“Of course I knew,” Dante says. “And why would I spoil his wonderful surprise? Mickey called me three weeks ago. He asked for my blessing. He called me and said, ‘Dante, I want to ask Benji to marry me and you’re the most important person in his life and I need to know you’re okay with it.’ And I sat in my car in a parking lot and gave him my blessing in both English and Spanish.” He pulls back and holds me at arm’s length to inspect me.
“No eyeliner this morning?” he asks. “Or hair combing?”
“Mickey told me to come as I am.”
“Even better. This beautiful face is the one that should be wearing the ring.” He touches the band on my finger, turns it once, gently. “It’s simple. I love it.”
“It’s perfect.”
“Yes, it is. It’s exactly right for you.” Dante looks over at Mickey. He crosses the deck, bends down and takes Mickey’s face in both hands. The same way he takes my face when he has something to say that matters.
“You did good, Officer Weaver,” Dante says. “The signs. The standing. The ring. All of it. I take back seventy percent of the difficult things I’ve said about you.”
“Only seventy?” Mickey says.
“The other thirty percent were accurate and I stand by them.” He leans in and kisses Mickey’s forehead. One press. Brief and firm. Then he straightens up and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. “Now. I brought champagne because I refuse to toast an engagement with coffee. Someone needs to tell me the plan for this wedding because I know Benji has already planned the entire thing in the ninety seconds since that ring went on. I need to know my assignments.”
“You’re my best man,” I say.
“Obviously.”
“You’re standing next to me. On this deck or on the beach. At sunrise or sunset. I haven’t decided. In something stunning.”
