Part 1 (2/2)

”Fine, it's eight now. But I know you started playing much earlier than you were supposed to. Sam has already knocked on our door to complain.”

”Well, I figured since you guys were already awake, no one would mind,” he said. I blushed, ducking my head. Was everyone aware of what John and I had been doing that morning? I was embarra.s.sed that Joey would be scarred by images of his mom in an intimate moment. But when I looked back, his attention was once again diverted by the images on the screen.

”What are you playing, anyway?” I asked him, settling on the edge of the bed. Joey's face lightened at my sudden curiosity in his game, and he moved so we were sitting next to each other.

”It's a game where a bunch of friends and I have to create a world and all that we want in it. Do you want me to show you what we have so far?” he asked. I nodded, amused by his enthusiasm. He went on to take me through the various neighborhoods he'd created in the town, complete with homes that were similar, holding only slight differences to set each home apart from the others. The roads were all in line, embellished along the sides with bushes and trees. Some held a seasonal theme, and I smiled when I saw one street dedicated to Christmas, his favorite holiday. A large lake stood off in the distance, and the screen traveled towards it at lightning speed, revealing the wildlife that surrounded the body of water and a small cabin he had placed next to it.

”This is where I live,” he explained, and he opened the door to the home. The inside was bigger than the outside had indicated. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and I marveled at the detail that included favorite t.i.tles of books we had in our real-life home. A large kitchen stood off to the right. From the black and white checkered floors to the kitchen island with copper pans hanging overhead, it appeared similar to the type of kitchen I had always dreamed of having. There was even a picture window overlooking the lake. I glanced at him sideways and he gave me a sly wink. ”Hey, I hear things too.”

”You'll have to show this to John before he starts working on the kitchen in our new home in San Anselmo,” I said in all seriousness.

The center of the house held a large spiral staircase, and Joey led us up to the second floor. We pa.s.sed through a large room with a fireplace and a huge bathtub behind gla.s.s walls before we continued our ascent to the third floor from the staircase. At last we reached the top floor. The outer walls were all gla.s.s, allowing a panoramic view of the whole world he and his friends had created in its entire expanse. Close by was the lake, rippling under the electronic sun while mirroring the green of the surrounding hills. The entire town stood off in the distance beyond the serene country. I could almost imagine all the activity that existed in the industrious city he had created. But I was puzzled as to why Joey chose to keep his home separate from the town, placing his house far away instead of in the midst of all the excitement.

”When you're inside the world, you can only see what's right in front of you. But on the edge of the world, you can see everything that's going on in it,” he explained.

He began to get lost in tinkering with a few improvements in his virtual home until I reminded him that we had an appointment for him to try on his suit that morning. Joey groaned, ready to give a fight, but I stopped him before he even spoke.

”I'm not going to argue with you. We set this date weeks ago and I let you know about it then. There's only so much time before the wedding, and I'd appreciate it if you would just go along with all these plans instead of fighting me on them. Can you just start getting ready?” He closed his mouth and nodded, placing his game controller on the bed. I s.n.a.t.c.hed it up at once.

”But, Mom! Come on!” he protested.

”I'm not taking it away.” I headed out the door to go get myself ready, and called over my shoulder, ”I'm just holding on to it as motivation for you to get ready. You can have the controller back when we get home.”

With just a few weeks left until the wedding, I was feeling crunched for time. I had s.n.a.t.c.hed up the controllers and high-tailed it away from Joey-now sulking in his room-in an effort to avoid a long and drawn-out argument, and to manipulate him into moving fast. It wasn't the first time I'd resorted to such measures. It seemed as though every one of my thoughts and actions needed to be rushed, to the point where I felt like a million jumbled ideas were electrocuting my brain in tiny shock waves. I just didn't possess the patience for hesitation.

Yet, in the midst of the stress over how much was still left to do in such a short amount of time, I was also aware of my excitement about being married to John in just a few short weeks.

The dress lay hidden in my closet, a size four ivory lace gown with a slender fit past my waist, hugging my hips while flaring out towards the bottom. I had been afraid to try it on when I first saw it at the bridal shop, certain that I needed something to hide the natural curves of motherhood no amount of exercise or diet could reduce. But the gown complimented the curves of my body, reminding me of one of those brides in the magazines who were airbrushed into perfection.

That is, if they used more mature brides to model their wedding gowns.

Being in my mid-thirties, I'd developed a sense of reality about my looks. I wasn't getting any younger. While time had been kind to me, I could still see where gravity was starting to rear its ugly head and how my younger years of sun wors.h.i.+p were appearing in fine lines around my eyes. Even a few sparklers were manifesting in my tawny brown hair, resulting in monthly treatments of hair color to hide what I considered premature signs of aging.

But I had accepted that I wasn't going to be one of those child-like brides that showcased their doe-eyed innocence under a veil of white. This was a second marriage for both of us, and we were trading in the naivety we'd possessed the first go-around for a union of equality and mutual respect-and love. I'd take my slightly older appearance any day if it meant I could marry a man who loved me like John did.

And he did love me, caring for me in a way I had never been treated before. From the moment I first laid eyes on him, I knew he was different.

He had walked into my flower shop, lost among the cases of roses and lilies behind the gla.s.s.

”Can I help you?” I asked him. He stood with his back to me, and I ignored the distinct broadness of his shoulders that tapered down to a slim waist with a s.h.i.+rt tucked into his jeans. Most of my walk-in customers were men, searching for flowers because they were brand new in a relations.h.i.+p and wanted to impress their girl, or because they had messed up and were looking for the quickest way out of the dog house. Working in a profession that catered to already-attached men would have been rather depressing for most single mothers. But I had sworn off men and all their complications years before, and I was more than happy to help a few guys out in the love department. Because of this, I could cater to the most attractive man without stammering under his smoldering gaze.

But I wasn't prepared when John turned around and looked me straight in the eye.

I had never been a believer of love at first sight. Having been burned by Joey's father, I was left jaded and pessimistic that I would ever feel romantic about another man again. Each failed attempt in the dating world only solidified this feeling. But when my eyes met John's, I felt a jolt run through me and had to look away. This was new, this feeling of electricity that traveled from his eyes to mine. My ears felt hot as my cheeks flamed red. For the first time, I felt my tongue twist up in my mouth so that words became an effort in a moment that seemed to last longer than it did in reality. But if he noticed, he was too kind to say so, only continuing his search for whatever blossom arrangement brought him into the store in the first place.

”I'm not really sure what the procedure is,” he apologized. He had an inviting face, enhanced by the helplessness in his smile as his gaze darted around the store. His dark chestnut hair held a slight wave in a style just long enough to allow his hands to run though it in frustration. I couldn't help but find this habitual motion of his endearing. At last, his chocolate eyes rested on me with a silent plea for help.

”Well, the first step is to think of the colors she likes to wear,” I prompted. ”Is she more into light pink hues? Or does she prefer colors that are a bit bolder?” I managed to get the words out breezily, even though they sounded like a squeak inside my head. He shook his head in haste, a pained look on his face.

”No, no,” he said. ”I'm not getting these for a bouquet. I actually need these for a wedding, the boutonnieres for the groomsmen.”

”Oh!” I exclaimed, feeling foolish. I wasn't sure why I was letting this get to me, but hearing that the flowers were for his wedding was a shock, as if the distance between having a girlfriend and planning a wedding should make a difference to me. ”Congratulations!” I told him, forcing myself back into business-mode, and the reason we were even talking in the first place. ”When's the big date?”

”It's this afternoon,” he said with nervousness.

”You're getting married today and are just now looking for a boutonniere?” I asked him, my voice rising in disbelief.

”No, I'm not getting married,” he said. ”My best friend is. And he forgot all about this until now and sent me to pick something out for him.” I shook my head, in part from the sheer relief that it wasn't his wedding, but also at the absurdity of finding the right flowers with what I had on hand in the store.

”Why didn't he come in here to get them himself?” I asked him as I took a quick glance at the flowers that lined the walls, searching for some miracle of inspiration. The grim look on his face was washed away with a humorous smirk, revealing the crease in his cheek. I forced myself not to look away this time, even as the heat rose once again to my ears.

”He doesn't want to get in trouble with his fiancee,” he grinned. ”Apparently he told her it was already taken care of. And then he sent me out to do his dirty work.” He took another look around before adding, ”The colors are purple and white, if that helps.”

The selection I held was rather slim since most of my flowers were ordered ahead of time and spoken for. However, I did have a bouquet of white ranunculus that had just arrived that morning to be used as an inspirational display of alternative wedding bouquets. With nimble fingers, I went to work by clipping one of the large tissued blossoms down to size, adding a sprig of lilac and a few loose leaves, binding it all together and adding a pin to the back.

”Will something like this work?” I asked him, holding the flower up for inspection. The look on his face revealed his approval before he even spoke.

”You did that so fast!” he said in amazement, and this time I allowed myself to blush.

”They say it's my job,” I teased, placing the flower on the counter and starting on the other boutonnieres, giving the groomsmen a simpler white flower in matching contrast to the more elaborate boutonniere of the groom. I gave him a few basic instructions on the care of the flowers so that they'd keep until the ceremony, and then completed the paperwork with the final price.

”I can't thank you enough,” he said. ”I'd love to repay you in some way.” His eyes brightened. ”I know! What are you doing tonight? I mean, if you're free. And you're not married,” he added quickly. This time it was his turn to be embarra.s.sed, his face taking on the slight shade of peony pink.

”I'm not married,” I a.s.sured him. ”And I'm not doing anything tonight. But are you actually asking me to be your date to a wedding?”

”I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm John Hanlon, by the way.”

”I'm Rachel Ashby,” I said, extending my hand into his.

Three years later, I was getting ready to put the finis.h.i.+ng touches on our own wedding. That is, if I ever got out of the house on time.

”Joey!” I called. ”It's time to leave!”

Two.

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