Page 185 of Levi

“Really?” he says, sniffling.

“Let’s hear it.”

He curls his legs under him on the couch and sits up straighter. “Okay. I want everyone I love crammed into one big room and not one single person suffering through a minute of it. Get the men out of the tuxes. All of them. Except you, me, and Mickey. Tell everyone to dress comfortable. I want every man on that deck able to breathe.”

He leans forward, his eyes brighten, and the wedding planner is all the way back in the room now. “The men should wear white shirts and jeans. But clean. That’s my one request and I shouldn’t have to request it but you know Tex. No sauce on the shirts. If Tex turns up to officiate my wedding wearing brisket sauce, I will lie down in the sand and let the tide take me out.”

“What about the women? Your mom and aunt? My family?”

“I’ve already thought about it. White sundresses for all the ladies, no two the same. I want them looking like a magazine spread when the sun drops.”

I nod at his ideas. “I like where you’re going with this. What else?”

“Cancel the caterers. Everything except the wedding cake. And only one cake. Mickey’s right. We don’t need a photography cake that we’ll stick in the freezer. I love him so much for agreeing to let me buy the second photography cake, but that’s silly. Oh, and the magnolias stay. Don’t you dare touch the magnolias. Stormy and I drove to Pensacola to see them. That’s not a vendor, that’s a pilgrimage.”

He sets the cup down and his hands come up, sketching the buffet in the air, building it. “I want Roadhouse food. It doesn’t matter that we eat it all the time. It’s still the best. Brisket, Sheila’s coleslaw, Stormy’s cornbread, the glorious mess of it, laid out on a buffet, everybody going back for thirds with their hands.”

“And the music?”

“Obviously kill the string quartet. Kill it with fire. I love those women. Dolores keeps the fee, send her my love. I’m not taking back my fee from a senior citizen. My God, what would that say about me if I did that? I want the jukebox music. And I want Levi. I would love for Levi to sing one song if he will when Mickey is rolling down the deck to marry me.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged. I do have an inside track with him.”

His eyes fill again. “I’ve planned so many weddings that guests endured. Sat stiffly through. Checked their watches at. I’m not going to stand up and have one of those as my own.”

I already have my phone in my hand.

“Tell me what to do first.”

“What?”

“Give me the list.” I’m already into my contacts. “I’ll make the calls as soon as they open. Florist, caterer, the tux place, the quartet, the harpist. Tell me what I’m keeping and what needs to go.”

“You can’t just—” He sits up straighter. “Dante, there are deposits. There are contracts. I signed things, there are cancellation windows and it is two weeks out, they’re going to come after me for every—”

“No, they won’t. I promise.”

“It’s fourteen days, they have penalty clauses, I have written some of those clauses—”

“Benji. You send more business through every one of those vendors than anyone on this coast. The florists pray that they’re the one you call. Same with caterers, the tux shop. Not one of them is going to torch a standing account to make a point over a deposit two weeks out. They’ll eat the fee, thank you for the notice, and hope you book them next month.” I pick the phone back up. “Trust me, there’s no penalty for changing your mind.”

Relief washes over his face. “You’re the second best thing in my life,” he says. “And the best friend.”

“Same here. Now go home. I’ve got it.”

He drains the coffee in one go, cold. He gets up, leans forward and fixes his hair in the black of the TV without thinking about it, which is how I know he’s fine. At the door he turns around, and grabs me in a tight hug.

“We’re throwing a party! Oh my God! This will be so much fun! I can’t wait to tell Mickey.”

“You’ll make him the happiest man in the world this morning. He’ll be thrilled.”

“I feel reborn.” He’s already halfway down the steps, still talking. “Tell Levi to pick a song to make people cry. And you’re still wearing the black tux, don’t argue, because you’re too damn gorgeous to put in jeans at my wedding. You, me, and Mickey, we’re the only three dressed. But no tie. I want you breathing.”

Then he’s gone, and I’ve got a florist to call at eight.

Chapter 71: Dante

Two weeks later…