THE BRIDE WORE BLUE SNEAKERS

BOOK 2

CHAPTER 1

An ant bit me on the toe, and I shot up from my prone position to scrabble and claw at the tiny red beast. “Why do they always want to bite me?” I asked.

Roman smiled and pushed me back into his lap. I lay my head there, one hand stretched toward the cerulean blue sky as if I could grasp the clouds.

“That one looks like a rabbit,” I said, returning to our conversation.

Roman squinted into the afternoon sunlight. “A rabbit with a broken leg.”

I laughed. The day was perfect, one of those afternoons where all the forces in the universe somehow align at their maximum advantage ... the fact we both had the day off, the fact no one had found out and asked one of us to do something.

He bent over me and ran his fingers through my hair, which made me all goosebumpy. “I’m thinking of opening on Saturdays.”

I looked up at him. An afternoon off and time together, and he wants to talk about the shop? Then again, it shouldn’t surprise me. Roman’s life was that hardware store.

“Saturdays? But then we’ll be working six days a week.”

“No, I’ll hire someone for it.”

My interest perked.

“You’ve talked to your grandpa?” I asked.

When he was able to talk to him, that is. Grandpa Avery was only lucid half the time. The rest he lived in his memories.

Roman shook his head. “Executive decision. Grandpa will only say no, and I think this needs to be done. We’re losing business to the larger home improvement centers. We’ve always catered to the blue collar worker, but I think we need to expand and think about homeowners. Weekend projects and the like. Maybe even carry plants.”

“Plants?”

He detached himself from below me and stretched out at my side. Propped on one elbow, he lowered his lips to mine. His affection never got old. From our first kiss in the back of the hardware store to this one underneath the sky, Roman Avery took my breath away.

“Was that to convince me?” I asked.

He smiled and a shaft of sunlight sparkled in his eyes. They were green today. “Did it work?”

I smiled. “Yes.”

“Good because I’ve already got someone lined up for the job.”

Already had someone lined up? I admit to being miffed right then. I mean, I guess he didn’t have to include me in the choice. It was his store to run, but somehow, I’d thought he would, even though he’d just told me about it.

“Her name is Manuela Alvarez.”

Manuela? He’d hired a ... a girl? I swallowed hard. He couldn’t hire a girl. I was the only girl working at the store. It was me and Roman. Not me, Roman, and some girl.

“She’s qualified, worked at the big place down the street.”

The competition, he meant.

“Plus, she speaks Spanish and you know that’s been a problem.”

Yes, it had, but guys spoke Spanish, too. He couldn’t find one somewhere?

“She only works weekends?” I asked, instead. That would make me feel a lot better.

He cocked one eyebrow. “Saturdays, yes. We stay closed on Sundays. But I have to give her more time than one day, so she’ll work mornings, Tuesday through Friday.”

Tuesday through Friday while I was there. I stared at the green-eyed monster grown up in my view, unwilling to admit it existed. Roman loved me. Roman definitely didn’t hire her because he was interested in her. Therefore, I was being stupid.

I blew it off. “Sure.”

He kissed me again, but it seemed a bit limp that time. Roman had broken up our little world, inserted someone else into it, and like it or not, I’d have to adjust.

I switched the subject. I had news, too, though mine seemed less important now.

“I’ve volunteered at the nursing home.”

He smiled. “Grandpa always likes seeing you.”

And I liked spending time with him, though he often thought I was his wife. But that was helpful when he wouldn’t do things. They’d call me to come up there every now and then simply to convince him of stuff.

“Say,” Roman said, bolting upright. “This is perfect. If you go in the mornings, then Manuela can fill in for you.”

Fill in. I watched my little bubble burst and the soapy slime smack me in the face. Manuela and Roman working alone.

I had one last hope. One last thing that would salvage this for me. Acting real casual, I sat up, facing him. “Manuela’s married, right?”

Roman’s browns drew together, and he pursed his lips. “What makes you say that? She’s our age, attractive with black hair and a nice smile. I didn’t ask her if she was seeing anyone. Why would I? But she had no ring on her finger.”

My hope faded. Attractive. Nice smile. Unless she smelled like an arm pit, it’d be Roman and her alone at the store. Unsupervised.

Grow up, Coralee. You are making a mountain out of a molehill.

Could be. But it seemed to me like the mountain was about to change everything.

Come Tuesday morning, I saw I was right. Manuela showed up early, her waist-length, silky black hair framing what was a figure any guy with two cents in his head would stare at. Plus, she had a brilliant smile and long lashes setting off two doe eyes. She was perfect to look at, and when she spoke, beyond perfect for the job. Friendly, knowledgeable, quick to pick up tasks, and seemingly never confused. All things that, except for friendly, I usually failed at.

Roman made it worse by dismissing me. “Don’t you have to be at the nursing home? We’ve got it covered.”

Head bowed, my insides in a wad, I slunk out the door to my car.

By the time I’d arrived, however, I’d perked up some. I liked seeing Grandpa Avery and was actually looking forward to spending time at the nursing home. I’d gone by the week before and talked with Mrs. Geasy, the volunteer coordinator. Today, I was supposed to start my job.

I entered to find the director standing in the large lobby.

“Coralee Pirtle, right?” she asked.

I clasped hands with her and tried to seem confident.

“Lillian Fust,” she said, introducing herself. “I understand you’re familiar with the home.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I used my most polite voice. “I come every so often to see Grandpa Avery.”

It hit me I shouldn’t have called him Grandpa. She’d know him by his first name, Norman, but it was too late to correct it, and she didn’t comment.

“Mr. Avery is a sweetheart,” she said. “Stubborn sometimes, though.”

He hadn’t lived there long. Roman’s mom and her brother and sister had debated a long time about moving him in there, in the end, deciding it’d be better for everyone. Expecting his mom to take on all of his care was lopsided, her brother and sister not living nearby.

“It’s a family trait,” I said.

She laughed, kind of a parrot-like squawk, and it was all I could do to not picture bird feathers flying around her head.

“Well, we’re glad to have more volunteers. Mrs. Geasy said she went over what you’ll be doing?”

I nodded. “Long as I don’t have to clean anyone’s bottom, I’m in.”

I thought that’d make her laugh. I wanted to hear the parrot sound again. But she didn’t. She actually frowned some.

“Our nurses take care of that. If you ever have any problems, simply pick up the phone and dial three. That’ll ring the nurse’s station.”

Three. I tucked the number away, hoping I wouldn’t need it.

Her frown lifted, and she motioned toward the hallway. “If you’d like to get started, I’ll take you on a tour.”

I paced myself at her side, and we arched around the corridor. Floor to ceiling windows let in a fair amount of shaded light from a small garden in the center of the building complex. There was a door in two places. Residents not under medical care could go out there and sit.

“The kitchen and dining area, you probably know, is to the right.” She waved toward a hallway emitting a strong cabbagy odor.

“Prices are on the menu board overhead. You’re welcome to eat there anytime.”

And pay for it. So okay, volunteers didn’t get free food.

“There’s an activities room down this hallway.” She swerved left.

We halted there, and she waved an arm model-like from left to right.

Pink and teal padded chairs placed around a series of tables held various game boards, others, stacks of books. One old lady with purple-dyed hair worked a cross-stitch in her lap. My mom did those, so I recognized the back and forth motion. I also knew this room was used when special guests came. They held a church service on Sunday mornings, guest singers during the week, even exercise classes. It was amusing to see seventy-year olds doing arm stretches from their seats.

Mrs. Fust moved on, and I skipped to catch up.

“The residents’ rooms are all down the corridors at the end. Please remember to keep the doors on Palm locked when you go in and out.”

Palm. Instead of numbers and letters, this place had named things after trees. Palm was where the residents with memory problems stayed. Grandpa Avery was down there, though he wasn’t as bad as some. The other corridors were Oak, Pine, and Myrtle.

We passed all of these and came to another series of rooms containing a barber shop slash hair salon, an ice cream parlor, and a general store. We halted, and Mrs. Fust looked back at me.

It wasn’t really that hard to navigate around the place. I’d been there plenty of times. I was more concerned about following the rules I’d been given as they seemed lengthy. Also, I worried about one of the residents going postal on me.

“The nurses’ station is where?” I asked. I figured it’d be good to know how to find it if I needed help.

She smiled again, kinda plasticky, and waved one arm the way we’d came.

We set off again, returning to the front of the place, but she passed the entrance a ways and halted in front of a large circular desk. A young man in a green nurses’ uniform stood with his back to us.

“Hello, Trace, this is Coralee. She’s going to be helping us.”

He revolved in place, and I swear, I heard harps strumming. When did the earth start creating male nurses that looked like that? Dark hair, perfectly parted, swarthy complexion, and large, brown eyes that seemed to hold the mysteries of the universe.

He gave me a toothy grin, one of those cartoon gleams sparkling off his pearly whites, and extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure.” Even his voice was magical, like a late night radio announcer.

I set mine in it with a sigh.

Mrs. Fust ruined the moment. “Well, if we’re all done, report to Mrs. Geasy and she’ll tell you how to get started.”

Right. Old people. I snapped back to reality. Though running into Trace would make this a lot more interesting.

Though he’d given Coralee a different impression, Manuela had a long way to go to before he’d leave her in the shop alone. For one thing, she didn’t have a clue how to organize things properly. That had become Coralee’s job, and something she excelled at. Already this morning, Manuela had misplaced several items that it took him forever to find.

He tried not to be hard on her though. She was new, after all, and it was her first day.

She was also too much of a flirt. He’d gotten that impression when he’d interviewed her, but again, kept it from Coralee. No need for her to be jealous and worry. There wasn’t anything to be jealous of, anyhow. He was in love with her, and she knew that.

He stared at his phone for the umpteenth time and sighed. He had to quit doing that. She was probably having a blast and had long forgotten about the shop. Pocketing it, he emerged from the back to find Manuela staring at him.

“You look lost,” she said, her lips parted.

He forced a smile to his face. “Preoccupied, I suppose.”

Clasping her hands behind her back, she stepped forward, and he got a whiff of some earthy perfume. An itch formed in his left nostril. Scrunching his nose, he tried to not sneeze.

“It’s your girlfriend. You miss her?”

He tilted his head. “Yeah. But she has to get out sometimes. She’s spent way too much time here.”

“I understand. Perhaps if you get your mind off of her and on something else.” With this remark, she switched her hands to the front, folding them across her waist, in the process, lifting her ample cleavage into his view.

He blinked and turned aside. That is not what he needed to put his mind on.

He’d do the books. Numbers always helped him forget. Selecting a pencil from the cup, he flipped open the ledger and scanned down the column. His mind finally occupied, he started at Manuela’s voice in his ear.

“You are good with that,” she said.

He glanced behind, the itch in his nostril returning. What was that stuff? Smelled like beach sand mixed with gas fumes.

“I’ve noticed already,” she continued.

One finger in place, he angled himself toward her slightly. “Why don’t you go sweep outside the front door? I saw a lot of cigarette butts out there.”

Manuela gave a brisk nod, her hair swishing around her shoulders, and promptly disappeared.

Roman exhaled. It was going be a lot of long mornings from now on unless he figured out how to overlook her. Maybe Coralee was right, and he should have hired a guy.

Mrs. Geasy was fat. Okay, overweight. But very nice. I walked in her office, and she looked up at me from a stack of paperwork already chin high. “Coralee.”

I halted behind one of a pair of chairs facing the desk, my hand curved over the back. “Mrs. Fust said to ask you where I start.”

She rocked back and forth three times then heaved herself upward.

Mrs. Geasy was fat and also, very tall. She was one of those women that made you believe in Amazonian women. She wasn’t that old. Maybe mid-forties, but the rolls around her neck and the puff of her cheeks made her look more like fifty-five.

I tried not to judge her. She was in control of the place, and it’d be wise of me to stay on her good side.

“I thought you’d like to meet someone first,” she said, waddling toward the door.

I followed, listening to the steady swish-swish, swish-swish of her thighs rubbing together. We walked down the long hallway back toward the residents’ rooms, my second trip already that morning, and she hung a left down Oak. Outside a room labeled Emma Dullas, she knocked and entered.

The tiniest woman I’d ever seen sat on a floral couch against the left wall. If she was four-foot eight fully-straightened, I’d be surprised. The size difference between her and Mrs. Geasy struck me right then. But I didn’t have much time to think it over because she hopped off her couch and bear-hugged me.

She was strong for an old woman. Her hands clasped together behind my back, she squeezed until I had a hard time finding my breath.

Mrs. Geasy chuckled. “This is Mama Dullas. She’s ninety-four.”

Ninety-four? I stared down at the top of her head. She was spry for ninety-four.

Releasing me, she stepped back and cocked her head. “You can go now.”

I guess that was a dismissal for Mrs. Geasy, who laughed again and said to come find her when I was done. Unsure when that would be and suspecting it’d be entirely up to Mama Dullas, I merely nodded.

Mama Dullas took my hand and led me over to her couch. “Now, tell me about yourself.”

“Well, I’m twenty-two, and I live at home.”

That made me sound super lame, something that must have shown on my face because Mama Dullas patted my cheek.

“Nothing wrong with staying with family. Why, in my day, you stayed until you either married or found employment. ’Course no one wanted to hire a woman.”

“Why not?” I asked.

Her eyes twinkling, she pursed her lips. “A woman’s job was to find a man, marry, and have babies.”

That seemed limiting. I mean, women had brains.

“Did you? Marry and have children?” I asked.

The spark in her eyes seemed to travel down her face. She cackled, slapping one hand on her knee. “Which time?”

I wrinkled my brow. “You were married more than once?” That didn’t seem so odd, but her answer set me back.

“Eight times, and all but Horace died.”

Eight. I couldn’t fathom that. I was curious, however, about how she came to be married that many times. I soon discovered she wasn’t exactly going to tell me.

She stuck out a hand, palm upward, and wriggled her fingers. “Horace was the best man of the bunch,” she said. “Ran a post office. Boy, did he look nice in a suit.” She gave her gurgling laugh again. “I married him just to look at him.”

I smiled at that remark.

“But that’s not why he was my favorite.”

I thought she’d tell me why then, but she didn’t.

Her hand flattened, and she patted my arm. “What’s his name?” she asked.

She wanted to talk about me now? I swallowed my curiosity about Horace. “Roman Avery.”

“You love him?” she asked.

I nodded. “Very much.”

She patted my arm again then began a slow stroke toward my hand. At my fingers, she took hold and squeezed. “A word of advice.” Her sharp-eyed gaze met mine. “Don’t let go of the good ones.”

Don’t let go of Roman? Or was she thinking about Horace again? I couldn’t tell. Nor could I ask because her hands fell into her lap and she nodded off. I took that as my dismissal, but stood over her for a moment, staring downward.

My mom always said when you pass a certain age, your past becomes brighter than your future, and looking at Mama Dullas, I knew that was true. I liked her and was now intensely curious about her life, Horace especially.

I told myself I would come back sometime and made my escape.

CHAPTER 2

“How was your day?” Roman gathered Coralee against him and buried his face in her curly hair.

“Good, but you saw me after lunch.”

He smiled. It was typical of her to point out the obvious. He’d never been so relieved than the moment she walked in the shop door, and it’d been all he could do to restrain himself from kissing her.

“There was this old woman,” she said. “Told me she’d been married eight times.”

He pulled back. “Eight?”

She nodded. “It’s like a big mystery now because she said they all died except Horace and he was her favorite. I plan to see if I can find out what happened. How was Manuela?”

He sighed, the sound long and loud.

Coralee’s eyebrows lifted. “You don’t like her?”

“No, she’s fine. It’s just, she’s not you.”

She smiled then. “You’re spoiled.”

He lowered his mouth to hers, lingering on her lips. “Not enough.”

She raised her head, laying her cheek to his chest. “Guess I should go home.”

“Not yet.” It was always so lonely when she left, and more and more lately, he’d wished she wouldn’t. He tightened his grip on her shoulders. He shouldn’t think about that. Probably, Coralee wasn’t ready for more than what they had, and he could ruin things as they were by pushing her. He had to find a way to get over his doldrums.

She squirmed, the shape of her fitting against him, and his mind temporarily blanked.

Doldrums weren’t his only issue with her leaving. He was as red-blooded as any other male and couldn’t deny the thoughts which formed in his head sometimes. But there again, he had to find a way to get over it.

Her hand settled in a place on his breastbone, heavier than she realized, and Roman’s heart seemed to mold to her fingertips. She had no idea how much he depended on her, how much he needed her to make it through the day, and anymore, how lonely and quiet his world was when she left. Nor did she realize she was exactly the right thing to fill the void.

At least, he thought so, and he’d asked himself a lot lately what exactly did he want? Then he’d asked himself what did she want? No answer ever came.

He gazed down at her, his eyes traveling along her figure to the curve of her calf. He gave a short cough. “I think once is enough,” he said.

Coralee looked back at him, her hair falling away from her cheeks. She wrinkled her brow.

“Marriage. I could only fall in love once.”

Her face reddened, and she glanced away, unspeaking. He released a shaky breath. Maybe even saying that was too much.

The silence grew awkward, and a few minutes later, she stood to her feet. Reluctant, he walked her to the door, but on the stoop, he took her hand.

A wish lay leaden on his tongue, one he didn’t say.

Roman was being moody, something he did a lot anymore. I figured it was a mixture of work, his grandpa’s dementia, and some indefinable male character trait I didn’t understand. Our lives had to change, I supposed. We couldn’t always be young and naïve.

I wished he’d just say whatever it was, however. Sometimes, he looked at me a certain way, and I just knew there were thoughts in there roaming around, thoughts he kept locked up. I couldn’t see how hiding them was helping him any. Seemed like it’d be better for him to speak his mind.

He never did though because he was Roman. Roman was an introvert, happy with his own thoughts, and I liked him that way. I liked our quiet time together in the evenings, too. But recently, the more moody he got, the weirder it became on leaving. I’d get home sometimes and think to myself what was I doing there. Strange. I mean, in a lot of ways, I felt more comfortable being with Roman.

I drove home, parking behind my brother’s car, and walked to the door. It opened before I got there, and, said nincompoop, Spencer, leaned out.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

He’d moved out months ago and rented an apartment downtown. I was glad because after graduating from college, he’d begun to get on my nerves worse than usual.

“I can come home if I want,” he said. “I’m surprised you’re not with Roman.”

I eyed him. “I was, but now I’m not.”

Spencer leaned on the doorframe, blocking my entrance, and annoyed, I jabbed at him with my thumb. He captured my hand in his. He had a strange look in his eye, one that said he was thinking.

“What?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing. Just ... you two have been together for four years now.”

And his point was what? I worked my fingers free and tried to pry him out of the doorway.

“You’re letting the bugs in,” I said.

He didn’t move.

“He hasn’t ... said anything to you?” Spencer asked.

Said anything? I glared at him. “We talk.”

“Not talking, but like anything specific?”

I threw my hand to my hip, elbow pointed outward. “Where are you going with this?”

“Nowhere. Just seems like he’d have something to ask you by now.”

Something to ask me? Honestly, my older brother’s brain had gone awry since he’d left home.

“He’s asked me nothing, and I’m tired, so can I go in?”

He moved at last, and I squirted by him. It wasn’t until I was in my room and had shut the door that I saw what Spencer meant. I got all sweaty, my palms damp.

Ask ... ask ... ask me something? Roman hadn’t asked me anything. He’d never ... never even brought that up until tonight, and that was in response to my conversation about Mama Dullas. Plus, he’d hired Manuela and seemed happy to have her there. Why would he have wanted to hire her if he wanted ... wanted that? That made it seem like he wanted space from me. Maybe he did. Maybe I was pressuring him, and that was what had made him all weird.

Well, he was wrong because I wasn’t pressuring him. I’d never do that.

I sat on the end of my bed and began to change for bed, but the t-shirt I slept in wadded in my hand, stared at my figure in the mirror. My thoughts about Roman returned. He had been very respectful of me, never asking for what we knew was wrong to do.

But that brought a new thought into my head. He was a bit too respectful. He could have acted a little interested. What if that was the issue? What if I was deficient? What if looking at Manuela made him realize it, and he’d only made that remark about marriage to convince himself? I sighed, my doubts floating around my head, and wished I understood the male mind more.

I donned my t-shirt and lay down, tucking the covers beneath my chin. But I couldn’t sleep for another image that had formed. What exactly did I want from Roman? If he asked, what would I say?

I swallowed hard. No point in thinking that because he hadn’t asked, wouldn’t ask, and months from now would be way more interested in Manuela than he was in me. That had to be my problem tonight. It was all slipping through my hands, and I was simply unable to stop it.

Roman gulped down his cup of coffee, despite the fact it was too hot, his thoughts crowding his brain. Swept along by them, he didn’t hear his mother’s approach and so leapt at her touch.

She pulled out a stool at his side, her fingers stroking his back. “What’s wrong?”

He glanced at her then back into the black liquid filling his mug. “I’m chicken.”

He felt her smile rather than saw it. She shifted her hand to his far shoulder and squeezed. “About?”

“Coralee. We’re stuck in a pattern that I’m not sure how to get out of.”

“You haven’t been arguing have you?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No. It’s the opposite. We never argue. We never talk about anything serious without either me giving up before speaking or her avoiding it.”

“You want to argue?”

He blew out a breath. “I want ... independence.”

That thought surprised him, and he stared at it.

“Not from her,” he continued, “but with her.”

His mom laid her head on his shoulder and laughed. He gazed down at her. “What’s so funny?”

Her eyes sparkled, the low lights dancing in their depths. “You’re so much like your father,” she said. “Before we were engaged he tormented himself over whether or not he should take things any further. He was so afraid to mess up.”

“It’s possible to mess up,” Roman said. “She’s never said anything to me indicating she wants anything more than what we have and has even started volunteering at the nursing home instead of being with me.”

“Ah.” His mom elongated the sound. “There’s the issue.” She straightened and laid her palm on the back of his head. “I think you have it all wrong.” Her fingers smoothed his hair. “It isn’t that she wants to be somewhere you aren’t, but that she’s confident enough in how you feel, she’s able to do other things and not worry.”

Roman chewed on his lip. Was that it?

“We both still live at home,” he continued, “and we go our separate ways at nightfall. Every day the same routine, neither one of us asking for any more than that.”

His mom dropped her hand to the counter, and he gazed at it, a million childhood memories rushing upward – this house, this kitchen, these walls all containers of laughter and sadness spanning the years.

“I have an idea,” his mom said. “Maybe the first step should be yours.”

Unsure what she meant, he didn’t speak.

“I love having you here, and you’re always welcome. But you’re a very responsible young man with a steady income who might feel better about himself if he took the next step in his life.”

The next step? Hadn’t he indicated Coralee wasn’t ready for that? His mom’s smile and light laugh deepened his confusion.

“Oh, son, you’re going to make me spell it out. Aren’t you?” she asked. “I was thinking you should find your own place.”

His own place? Roman inhaled.

“Think about it. Maybe if you bought your own home, you’d break through some of the struggle you’re having. There’s plenty of small, well-made houses around that you can afford. I’m sure your father would help you, and it’d be a great way to make a statement to Coralee.”

It would be a great way. His mom was right. And he would feel better about himself, less like a kid. It was worth thinking about.

“No one is pressuring you, but I think you need to consider it,” she said. She rose from the stool and moved to the refrigerator.

Roman returned to his coffee, sipping slower this time. What if he found his own place? Maybe Coralee would see he was ready to move their relationship along and show some sign she agreed. If he bought a house and didn’t act like she had to be with him all the time, she might know he trusted her like an adult and months from now, he could ... could ... say the thing that was always on his brain.

He pressed a finger between his eyes. He could take their relationship toward what he really wanted. Her. Because pretending he didn’t too much longer, he just might lose his mind.

“Why are you smiling?” his mom asked.

Roman buried his last few thoughts. “Because I think I’m going to buy a house.”

“You’re going to buy a house?” I leaned one elbow on the counter, my eyes on Roman’s face. I couldn’t believe it. How could he ... he buy a house?

“I want to,” he said. “I make enough here and think it’ll be good for me.”

My morning had been uneventful. I’d not seen Mama Dullas to ask about Horace, nor Trace, nurse extraordinaire, and I’d arrived at the shop to see Manuela leaving, much to my relief, Miss Perfect. Bleh. Then, not two minutes inside the doors Roman had popped this one on me. “But ...”

“But what?” he asked. “You haven’t thought about not living at home?”

Well, no. Although a couple times I’d wanted to simply sleep on the couch with Roman holding me. He was always warm and comfortable.

“C’mon, Coralee. Never?”

Okay, expanding my thoughts, perhaps I’d thought I would one day have a husband and a family. I wasn’t that dumb. Plus, I’d thought about my wedding. Every girl does that, but looking at my life as it was right then, I hadn’t considered it at all.

I shook my head.

“Well, I’m going house shopping. My dad’s called a realtor friend of his and he’s going to make a list of places near the shop and my parents’ house. You should come with me and help me pick something out.”

Help him pick out a house. I tilted my head. “I don’t know anything about houses,” I said.

“It’s not hard,” he replied. “Kitchen, dining room, living area ... you know, the standard spaces, and you decide if that house is what you see me in.”

I warmed to the idea. Must have been the girl side of me. Clapping my hands, I rubbed my palms together. “Okay, when do we start?”

He laughed. “We’ll go looking this weekend while Manuela watches the shop. You should wear comfortable shoes.”

I stared down at my wedge sandals. When I looked back up, he was smiling, and I contemplated his expression. He was super happy about this. I guess that was good. But I was curious what brought this on. My doubts of the night before resurfaced and that feeling my life was about to change and I probably wouldn’t like it.

Roman didn’t seem to notice, for once, but started talking about the house hunt, super fired-up. However, the longer he talked, the more my fears grew until they were bigger than the zit you get the night before an important date. One particular thought became larger than the rest. Roman was moving to spend less time with me. After all, I had nothing to give to his future. He didn’t need my income, but made enough on his own. He didn’t need me to help him choose a place, not really. I’d probably offer my opinion, and he’d do his own thing anyhow. Then, when he bought the place, he wouldn’t need me at all.

I gulped, my thoughts tasting bitter in my mouth.

“Don’t you think?” he asked.

I had no idea what he was referring to, so I just smiled and nodded. He didn’t need me for the shop, and now, he didn’t need me for his life outside the shop either.

“Let’s go to dinner and celebrate,” he said.

Celebrate? I mashed my hands to the edge of the counter, the pointed edge a good representation of what was happening inside.

“Where would you most like to eat?” he asked.

I blinked, trying to focus on his joy and not my problems. “I ... I ... don’t know. You pick.”

He wrapped one arm around my shoulders. “Me pick? If I’m picking, then I say steak. Grab your purse, and let’s go.”

“What’s eatin’ you?”

I looked up at Spencer, hovering overhead. For once, I was glad he was around. Maybe he could help me figure out how guys think.

“Roman.”

His eyebrows shot up. The fact I’d mentioned Roman to him willingly was a bad sign. 

He seated himself in a lawn chair at my side, and I stared out across the night-darkened landscape, digging my toes into the plush grass. Mosquitoes buzzed in my ear, and I slapped at one, my skin stinging.

“So speak,” he said.

“What you said he was going to ask me ... he isn’t going to ask me.” That was a pipe dream, one which looked more and more like the ultimate goal, like something I wanted more than anything. I hadn’t considered it at all until Spencer had brought it up, but now, the idea planted in my head, I could almost taste it.

“How do you know that?” he asked.

I hung my head, rubbing it with my hands. “He’s interested in other things.”

“Oh.”

Spencer’s large paw landed square in the middle of my back, and he gave me a brotherly pat. “I’m sorry, sis. I know you like him.”

My head shot up. “Like? It’s way more than like. I love him. He’s ... he’s everything to me. I want to wear his name. I want to have his children.” I sucked in a breath. Had I just said that? I had, and I guess, the look on my face must have displayed my surprise because Spencer gave a crooked grin.

“Always took you a while to see things,” he said. “Anything other kids were already doing, you seemed happy without, not even realizing you could do it too if you wanted.”

“Like?”

He pursed his lips. “Like riding your bike. You were ten before you even tried.”

“It never occurred to me I could,” I said, only proving his words.

“Like driving. You were seventeen before you got your license.”

I waved one arm outward, frustrated. “It didn’t matter to me. Mom or you could take me anywhere.”

Exactly was written on his face.

“Like getting a job,” he said.

“But I did that.”

“After all your friends either had one or went to college.”

My head returned to its slumped position. So I was slow and dumb. I felt better now.

“Don’t get that way,” Spencer said, tapping me square in the middle of my head.

I jerked up.

“That wasn’t my point ... to make you all depressed.”

But wasn’t it? I was slow and so I’d missed out on many things, and now I was losing Roman because I hadn’t given our lives any thought past the shop and an hour or two together in the evenings. I’d waited too late. He was going to do all that without me.

Spencer’s arm came around my shoulders. “Look. I’m sorry if it’s not working out. I like Roman, and even better, I like you with Roman. But sometimes things change and two people simply can’t see eye-to-eye. There are other guys out there, you know.”

Other guys? He wanted me to move on?

“Maybe you should talk to them and see how that feels.”

Talk to another guy, someone who wasn’t Roman. Did I even want that? I loved Roman. Wouldn’t talking to someone else only make me see that more?

“You might find someone who fits you even better.”

Fits me even better than Roman? That wasn’t possible. Was it?

But the idea expanded in my brain, the more I thought of it. What if, what if he was right? What if once I talked to someone else, it resolved my problem?

A certain male nurse arose in my thinking. He was cute, and he’d be there tomorrow. I could find out.

“I see that look in your eye,” Spencer said.

I glared at him. “What look?”

“The one that says I’m right.”

Balling up my fist, I socked him one in the upper arm. “You’re never right. You’re a guy.”

CHAPTER 3

I dressed up more than usual, dabbing on a little perfume, and tried to tame my hair. If I was going to talk to Trace, seriously prospect talk to him, then I needed to make a good impression. However, not until I’d left my bedroom did it occur to me I’d done all this for someone who wasn’t Roman. That threatened to burst my new confidence. But I stifled it. If I thought about Roman, I’d get depressed again, and I wasn’t going to do that. Not today.

I stomped down the hall and out the door, thinking I’d arrive early at the nursing home and maybe run into him. Walking in those double doors though, I became nervous. What if I goofed this up? Roman always accepted me for me. He didn’t care if I made mistakes, and I did that a lot. What if Trace, super-nurse, liked his girls perfect?

I shook my head, and my hair came undone, springing all around my face. This was one conversation, not a lifetime commitment. I was simply seeing if I could talk to someone who wasn’t Roman.

Circling the corridor, I approached the nurses’ station, and he looked up, his glistering smile almost blinding me. I leaned on the counter. “Hey.”

He sat back in his chair, one hand around a bottle of water. Of course, he’d drink water. He wouldn’t want to stain those teeth.

“Good morning. Coralee, wasn’t it?”

I nodded, my stomach all in knots.

“What brings you in so early?” he asked.

I tapped my fingers lightly to quell my nervousness. “I like it here and thought I’d get an early start.”

“Admirable.” He dipped his head.

“You’re here early, too,” I inserted.

He laughed once. “I have to be. It’s my job, you know.”

Of course, I knew that, but I was simply making conversation.

“You like it? Being a nurse? You’ve probably seen a lot of strange things.”

He cracked the lid of his bottle and took a swig. Man, even drinking he looked great. I could feel myself sweat.

He sat the bottle on the desk. “You have no idea. But yeah, overall, I like it. However, I have ambition. I want to become a doctor.”

A doctor? Wow. That seemed ... unattainable to a girl like me.

“It’ll mean more schooling, but I’m going to do it.”

I nodded, hoping it looked supportive.

“What about you?” he asked. “You do volunteer work and what else?”

Me? I stalled. I couldn’t say I worked at a hardware store and lived at home. A guy like Trace wanted a woman with higher appeal than that. So I lied. The words fell off my tongue, and I couldn’t believe it. I even smiled when I said it to further seal the mistruth.

“I’m in college, second year. I’m studying business.”

“Business. That’s great. I like a women with a sharp mind.” He leaned in, and I could smell his cologne.

Roman’s cologne drove me wild. Trace’s actually made me want to sneeze, but tastes are different. He smelled like a jelly donut, in fact, and with him closer to me, I couldn’t decide if I was supposed to sniff him or take a bite.

His comment about me with a sharp mind finally took hold. Sharp was never a word I’d use to describe myself. I was more along the lines of “a hot mess,” though Roman always said I could organize things well. I decided to capitalize on that as it wasn’t another lie.

“I do like things arranged where they make good sense,” I said. “It’s easier to be productive when you aren’t scrambling around for your tools.”

He tilted his head, ever so slightly. “I appreciate that. I’m a neat freak myself. Sounds like we’d get along.”

Did it? I couldn’t decide. We’d talked, but I hadn’t really had any epiphanies. In fact, I’d actually lied to him. That didn’t seem like a positive point. I pulled myself up straight. “I should check in with Mrs. Geasy, I guess. Just thought I’d say hi.”

Trace’s smile widened, which I hadn’t thought was possible.

“I’m glad you did,” he said. “Come by anytime, and we’ll chat.”

I nodded and made my escape, not halting until I’d passed Mrs. Geasy’s office and found myself on the other side of the place. At a floor-to-ceiling window on my right, and I stopped, looking out.

I felt no better about myself now than I had last night. In fact, I felt awful. And deceptive. I’d talked to Trace without knowing where I stood with Roman, and I’d lied about me being in college. I’d given him the impression I was somebody I wasn’t. That seemed like a bad start. But, maybe, I reasoned, I simply didn’t know him that well. Maybe if I kept talking to him something would happen, and I’d make up my mind. That seemed like a good idea, which I filed away.

A tiny bird hopped around in the grass. Twitching his tail feathers, he poked his beak into the soft soil. Distracted, I didn’t hear the person who came up behind me.

“Coralee?”

I whirled. Grandpa Avery.

“Grandpa? What are you doing down here? You’re supposed to stay in your room. Here ...” I took his arm. Let me help you find your way back.”

He shuffled into place at my side and heaved a sigh. “I’m glad I have you,” he said. “I’ve always liked you. But you need to tell that grandson of mine to propose.”

“If you like, I’m glad to clean up the office. It’s no big deal,” Manuela said, flipping her hair over her shoulder, an annoying habit she did a lot.

Roman exited his Grandpa’s old office and shut the door tight. “No. That’s not necessary. Just keep things clean out front.” He tried to ignore her pacing behind him, but when he halted, she all but ran into him. He glanced back. “You can hang up those bird feeders.”

Surely, she could handle bird feeders. So far this morning, she’d misplaced an entire box of wood screws, spilt two containers of wallpaper paste, and mixed a can of paint, which was supposed to be Princess Pink, to be Madeline Mauve. How she’d managed that he could only guess.

Manuela nodded and walked away. But moments later, a tremendous crash brought him running across the store.

“I’m sorry,” she said, bending over a mangled mess. “I don’t know what happened. The hooks simply pulled out ....”

Roman frowned. Those hooks never “simply pull out.” Coralee set them all the time without any problem. Manuela’s fingers, however, seemed coated in grease.

“I’ll pick them up,” she said.

His mood descended into an abyss filled with exasperation and impatience, all the things she’d done wrong piling one upon another. She was so inept, couldn’t even put the hooks in right. She miscounted products. Yesterday, her tally had been so far off, he’d had to do it personally. She’d also run off two longtime customers talking too long to some elderly Latino lady about what he suspected, but couldn’t prove, wasn’t related to the hardware store.

More and more, he thought he’d made a mistake hiring her, but to admit it meant looking dumb in front of Coralee, who now valued her new time off. He’d simply have to hang in there. But that meant more work for him because asking Manuela to do it meant failure.

Reluctant to go near Manuela, he slipped out the front door onto the sidewalk. He loved this place, loved this store, loved spending all his hours here, but with Coralee gone, it felt incredibly lonely. If only she’d come in an hour early today. Was that too much to ask?

A truck parked at the curb and a middle-aged man in a stained pair of work pants climbed out. His face dark, a receipt in his hand, he elongated his steps. “Mr. Avery,” he snapped, waving the receipt. “I’m glad you’re here because that new girl of yours sold me the wrong size cabinets. I drove all the way to the job, some sixty miles, only to find out they didn’t fit. Now, the homeowners are extremely unhappy. I demand this be fixed.”

Roman plastered on a professional smile, his heart sinking. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Neelson. If you’ll come indoors, we’ll correct the problem.”

Mr. Neelson snorted and motioned toward the door. Roman turned and sighed.

Yet another problem Manuela made that he needed to fix. This weekend’s house hunt couldn’t come quick enough. He needed time off.

“Come see me.”

Mama Dullas took hold of me outside her room and pulled me sideways. I righted myself after a few steps, following her across the small space to the couch.

“Now, where were we?” she asked.

It’d been a couple days since our first encounter, so I had no idea.

“That’s right, husband number one,” she said. “His name was Eddie. I was seventeen.”

“Seventeen?” I must have looked as astounded as I felt because she patted my arm.

“Not that unusual back then,” she said. “We were in love, and our parents had no objections. Actually, once they found us behind the schoolhouse ...” She chuckled then.

My face grew warm. I wasn’t about to judge, but being twenty-two and less experienced, the story hit me hard.

“No children though,” she continued, “which was just as well because he was hit by a train.”

“A ... a train?”

Mama Dullas nodded her head. “He used to walk the tracks back and forth, said he dreamed of travelin’. We even talked about going off together. Never did though, and then the train hit him and that was all gone. I was sad, cried a lot ... said I’d never fall in love again.”

“But you did ...”

“No, actually, I was kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped?” I was the one who sounded like a parrot now, what with repeating her words.

Her eyes took up a sparkle. “Husband number two. Idlebert. He’d been eyeing me for a while, but was really shy. Didn’t have the nerve to ask me out.”

“So he kidnapped you?”

She bobbed her head. “Took me off to the family cabin in the middle of the woods, and I do mean the middle of the woods ... nothing for miles but trees. I was scared half to death, but once we arrived, I found out he’d planned it all for me. He was just the sweetest guy.”

“And you married him?”

Mama Dullas closed her fingers over my arm. “I learned something from both husbands.”

I noticed she hadn’t answered my question, but didn’t say so. After all, pressuring her hadn’t gotten her to tell me anything before.

“Eddie taught me that you’re never too young to love someone. I was fortunate to meet him and have no regrets for one minute of my time. His dying was sad, and still sometimes, I see his face. But I’ve never said I’d take it back. He was a good man who dreamed too big. Nothing wrong with that.” She leaned back on the couch, her gaze going far away.

“Idlebert?” I asked. “What did you learn from him?”

She seemed to awaken. “That it’s okay to be different. He was different from me, but we clicked. I fitted myself to his life, and he fitted himself to mine. I like to think we’d still be together today if he hadn’t died.”

It seemed too much of me to ask how he’d died, so I didn’t, and she didn’t tell me. Nor did she say anything when I got up and left. Maybe thinking about two husbands was more than she could manage in one day.

I understood that. Thinking about Roman and now, Trace, burned a hole in my brain.

Making my way down the corridor, I headed for Mrs. Geasy’s office, but before I could get that far, Trace stepped into my path. Again, the whole bright lights, angels singing thing happened in my head.

“Coralee,” he said. “I was about to have lunch. Why don’t you join me?”

J-join him? Eat lunch with Super Nurse?

“Sure.” I sounded way more confident than I felt.

He waved one arm toward the lunchroom, and I followed at his side. Moderately crowded, the old people at lunch sat in their same groups. That was the thing about the nursing home; you didn’t dare take someone’s chair and force them to sit somewhere else. Even volunteers and nurses had their assigned places. Woe to the person who stepped outside of that.

Trace hopped in line ahead of me, flashing his smile to the woman on the other side of the serving counter. “The usual, Barbara.”

Barbara practically beamed. Taking a tossed salad from the refrigerated cabinet, to the side, she placed a packet of low fat salad dressing.

I stared at his meal, my stomach growling. That was it? He’s going to eat a small salad. Meanwhile, I wanted meatloaf. That would turn him off for sure. I sucked in a breath. “I’ll have the same.”

Barbara, unlike her behavior with Trace, actually gave me the evil eye. She slapped another plastic-wrapped salad on a tray and wadded a packet of dressing beneath its rim. She practically threw it at me.

I glanced toward Trace to see if he’d noticed, but he’d moved on to the register. Slipping bills across the counter, he pocketed his change. I was miffed on two counts now. One, he hadn’t waited for me, and two, he hadn’t offered to buy my meal. Roman would have done both. But then again, I said to myself that it wasn’t required.

I carried my tray to the register, snagging a bottle of water on the way. Sitting next to him, soda was definitely out.

“Five forty-nine,” the girl at the register said.

For a salad? I stared at her, I guess, too long because she scowled. I wasn’t making brownie points with the lunchroom crew. Tossing a five and some change her way, I turned on one heel and looked for Trace. He’d seated himself at a round table to the right. Another nurse, whose name I didn’t know, took a place at his side.

Great. Three’s a crowd. I was half-tempted to sit somewhere else, but figured, since he’d asked me, that’d be rude. So I plunged ahead, coming to a halt in front of them.

He smiled. “Coralee, this is Ofina. Ofina, Coralee’s one of our volunteers.”

I tried to appear pleasant, but the way he’d said it made me feel small. He hadn’t talked that way to me before. I guess being around another nurse made him change.

“This place is running over with volunteers,” she said.

What exactly did that mean? Setting my question aside, I took a seat and unwrapped the salad. Tearing the perforated edge of the dressing packet, I dabbed one finger to the rim and made a face. Nasty stuff, but no helping it now since I’d paid for it.

In fact, sitting there, awkwardly trying to appear like I fit in, I saw I’d paid far too much. Trace and I didn’t fit together at all. I’d lied to him about who I was to make him think better of me. I’d now purchased a meal I didn’t want, simply to look good. And here, I was, miserable, without anything to say.

The cloud of depression I sat under last night talking with Spencer re-enshrouded my brain. Trace didn’t notice my mood, nor Ofina. They carried on their happy conversation, him patting her hand. He liked her way better than me.

My life sucked.

“I’m going back to work,” I said, standing to my feet.

Trace barely paused to glance my way. “Okay. See you around, Coralee.”

Not likely. If I never saw either one of them again, that’d be a good day. Dumping the greater portion of my salad in the trash, I made my way to the locker where I kept my purse, hooked it over my shoulder and left.

I drove aimlessly around town, unsure where to go, and ended up at the hardware store an hour early. Sitting there, I felt like I was punishing myself. First, Trace showed no interest, and now, I had to prove that Roman didn’t either.

I pushed my way inside, my heart somewhere in my toes and came to a halt beside a huge wreck in the aisle. Bird houses, everywhere. Manuela looked up, her face flushed.

“What did you do?” I asked. I didn’t mean to sound snappy though I did.

“They all fell at once,” she replied.

My hands on my hips, I stared down at her. It was nigh to impossible to hang those wrong. The fact she couldn’t do so made me strangely happy.

“I’ll fix it,” I said. “You go ... I don’t know ... do something else.” I waved one hand at her, dismissive.

She stood, head bent, and not speaking a word, walked away.

I was midway through fixing the display when a hand grabbed hold of me and pulled me up. Roman hugged me tight.

“I’ve had the worst day ever, but it’s better now that you’re here,” he mumbled in my ear.

It ... it was? I looked up at him, best I could from that angle.

“Promise you’re not leaving again today.”

“I’m not leaving,” I said, unsure, where his behavior fit into my doubts.

I now knew Trace wasn’t right for me, but Roman still intended to buy a house, and that seemed like a sure sign he didn’t need me at all. Except, he’d just begged me not to go.

“If you’ll turn loose, I’ll fix Manuela’s mess,” I said.

He unhanded me, and I returned to my work, strangely comforted in the normalness of this place. I was happy here. Losing Roman would crush the life right out of me. There had to be a way to hang onto him. If only I knew what that was.

CHAPTER 4

“Mama Dullas,” I began, sitting at her side. I’d sought her out today, unsure why. I’d also avoided the nurse’s station. I was here to help the residents, not schmooze with Mr. Perfect. “Did any of your husbands ever seem to want one thing, but you wanted another?”

She cackled. Laying one hand on my arm, she squeezed tight, and her fingernails dug into my skin. “Oh, child, that’s part of the package. Men are confusing creatures, yet we feel drawn to them.”

I exhaled. She was right. I wanted to be around Roman, but lately, I couldn’t figure him out.

“Husband number three, Zane, was such an upstanding man.” She sat taller then, pulling her thin frame even thinner. “But he was forever on a different page from me. Just as soon as I’d go left, he’d go right.”

“Didn’t that frustrate you?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Gave things spice. He forced me to see stuff I would have avoided otherwise.”

I considered that. With Roman and me, that was definitely true. I’d never considered many things before working at the hardware store. Counting, for one. The store ran on the exactness of Roman’s figures. But if it were left up to me, we’d run out of half of it and overstock the rest. He’d also taught me I was good at something. I mean, when I’d shown up yesterday and seen Manuela’s mess, I hadn’t stopped to consider how to fix it. I’d known I could because Roman believed in me.

“Fernando ... speaking of spice ...” She struck a sort-of dance pose, one hand raised alongside her head, her fingers curved.

The next bit she said was entirely in Spanish, which interested me. I mean, who knew she could speak it? I obviously couldn’t and so had no idea of the words, but the context was clear.

“You liked him a lot,” I said.

She nodded. “He was ...” Again, she turned to Spanish to express whatever it was, and it struck me then what she’d learned from him.

It was weird to think of ninety-four year old Mama Dullas being frisky with a man, but evidently that was really special to her. Even after all these years, the thought of him fired her up.

Mama Dullas being distracted, I left her side and headed to the hardware store, unable, during the drive, to get me and Roman out of my head.

To this point, I’d avoided any thoughts of doing that with him. I mean, what you think about you’ll eventually act on, and since we weren’t acting on anything, I shouldn’t think about it. But parked outside the front doors, I didn’t get out and instead, tried to picture what that’d be like ... to be with Roman. I only had the little I’d seen on TV to go on, so the images in my head took on a strange form, and my face got pretty hot.

A knock on the window shook me out of my reverie. I turned my head to see Roman staring in at me. Flames raced over me. Rolling the window down, I swallowed hard.

“You look ... funny,” he said. “Is something wrong?”

“I ... I was talking to Mama Dullas.” This seemed like a safe beginning. “She was telling me about husband number four ...” I motioned toward him. “Let me out.”

He reversed, and I opened my door. Leaning against my car, I crossed my arms and debated over how much to say. “Most of it was in Spanish,” I said.

“Spanish?”

I nodded. “It didn’t matter I didn’t know the words though. I understood her clear enough.”

Roman was looking pretty confused right then.

“You know ...” I drug the words out, hoping he’d get the point. I wasn’t sure if he did because Manuela stuck her head out the door.

“Mister Roman,” she said in her accented English. “There is a phone call for you. I think ... they said it was Norman Avery?”

“Grandpa?” I asked. “Is he okay?”

Roman took off inside, and I trailed along behind. I found him in the office, the phone to his ear.

“You want to see me? But ... You’re all right? ... Sure, I’ll come right now. Bye, Grandpa.” Roman hung up and flipping his head backward, looked at me, his face upside down. “I’ll leave you in charge of Manuela.”

This made me strangely happy, though I was still worried about Grandpa. I set my joy aside for a second. “He wants to see you?”

Roman nodded and spun his chair around. “Yes. He seemed clear-headed. Besides, I haven’t been in a while ...”

He hadn’t, and I couldn’t begrudge him the chance to see his grandpa. I took his hand and hauled him to his feet. “Go, I’ll take care of things.”

He paused, and his face got kinda funny. “What you said ...” he began.

I’d already forgotten about Mama Dullas, so bringing the subject back up was uncomfortable. I’d be glad when things weren’t awkward between us. I was tired of all this tension. It hit me then how much harder I’d made things trying to talk to Trace because now I didn’t know how to behave around Roman. I mean, things had been so casual between us to this point. I simply did things. But with Trace, I’d had to consider my every action, and talking to Roman right then, I couldn’t get away from that.

“You better go,” I said, cutting him off. “Grandpa may drift before you get there.”

He nodded and turned, though he seemed reluctant, and I walked him to the door. I stood inside and watched him back out of the lot. Manuela broke into my reverie.

“Mister Roman ... he leave?”

A sadistic giddiness took over. We were alone, me and her, and I was in charge. “For a little while,” I said, a smirk forming on my lips. “When he gets back, you can go home, but until then, here’s what you’re going to do ....”

Strange, but his grandpa’s call seemed to have come at an opportune time because, wherever Coralee had been going with that conversation about the old lady at the nursing home, he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. Then again, it was curious she’d bring anything like that up. They never talked about intimacy out of respect for each other. Also, the fact it made conversation hard. That made her broaching the subject huge in his mind, but also left room for a lot of interpretation. Was she being positive or negative about it? And where exactly did he stand?

Roman sighed and eyed her while he backed away. Leaving her with Manuela wasn’t his best idea, but then, he didn’t have a choice really. She was right about his grandpa. He could be somewhere else by the time he arrived, and it wasn’t like Coralee would kill her.

Squeezing the sides of his head between his thumb and ring finger, Roman staved off a headache. Between Coralee, Manuela, and buying a house, he wasn’t sure how much more pressure he could take. Perhaps talking to his grandpa, always a voice of reason in his life, was a good idea. He trusted no one’s advice more than him.

Roman made his way across the sun-heated asphalt of the nursing home, pausing briefly in the lobby to enjoy the rush of air-conditioning. He then made a right and wound his way around the corridor and down Palm to his grandpa’s room.

He found him seated at a small table beneath the window. A low-growing bush pressed leaves against the glass. “Grandpa?”

“Roman! Come sit.” His grandpa waved him over. Dropping one hand to a place in his lap, he rubbed his palm back and forth on his slacks.

Roman took a seat opposite and reached out and patted his grandpa’s shoulder.

His grandpa smiled then got right to the point. “That girl needs a ring.”

Roman sat back, sliding his hand along the table’s cool surface. “What ... do you mean?”

His grandpa tilted his head and with aged fingers pushed his glasses back further on his nose. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it because she has.”

She had? She’d never indicated it to him. In fact, all their troubles lately had been because he’d avoided it.

“Saw her talking to that nurse guy more than once. You better snap her up, or she’ll move on.”

Coralee ... talking to another man? She hadn’t mentioned that either. But what if ... what if that was the problem between them? What if she’d thought he was going to propose, but because he hadn’t ... Roman gulped. “Grandpa, how did you know when it was time to ask?”

His grandpa chuckled, lights sparkling in his eyes. “For one thing, I couldn’t stand to be apart from her. I’d take her home, but leaving her there sucked the life right out of me.”

Hadn’t he felt that way? Like he wanted her around all the time?

“Weren’t you afraid? I mean ... marriage is a huge step and what if ... what if something goes wrong? What if you couldn’t provide for her? Or what if you asked and then decided it was too much?”

His grandpa laid one arm on the table. Roman stared down at it, struck by how much older he looked. Brown spots creased the loose folds of his grandpa’s wrinkled skin. He’d always been there, a fixture to a young boy who’d adored him, but—

Roman lifted his gaze.

One day he wouldn’t be. One day his grandpa would be gone. He’d have great memories of him. But—

He gulped.

Where would they end? What would be the last thing he and his grandpa did together? This? A conversation about something he should do but didn’t?

Spinning his gaze away, he stared out the window, rolling his grandpa’s words over in his head. He loved her more than anything. He wanted her around all the time, like his grandpa said. He intended to buy a house, but was that really just for him? Or did he see her in it?

“I’m looking at houses tomorrow. I thought ...” He paused.

“Thought what, son?”

Roman glanced toward his grandpa. “Thought that was what I needed. Things have been ... weird lately. I hired a girl to work at the shop.”

“A girl?”

Roman nodded. “Spanish girl named Manuela ... to work Saturdays.”

His grandpa’s face altered. “You didn’t tell me.”

He sighed. “No, I thought you’d be upset. I also thought she’d be helpful, bring in Spanish-speaking customers, but all she’s done is make mistakes. Plus, Coralee’s been strange ...”

“You need me to tell you why?”

His grandpa’s solemn expression said a lot, and running his fingers through his hair, Roman quieted. “No.”

Jealousy. He’d made Coralee jealous. Why had it taken until now for him to see it? She was super sensitive where personal things were concerned. That was, after all, what had initially brought them together. She’d been upset over some guy who didn’t like her, so much so she hadn’t seen that he did.

A fool. He was such a fool.

“So do something about it.”

Do something. Do what four years with her had brought them both to. Give her the reassurance she needed that he wasn’t going anywhere, wasn’t ever going to stop loving her.

“But I’m not sure ...”

His doubts remained.

His grandpa leaned back in his chair. “I think you’re surer than you know. Your feelings for her aren’t going to change, are they?”

“No.” He’d just acknowledged that. Hadn’t he?

“Then what’s stopping you?”

What? Fear of himself. Fear of his inability to be a good husband to her, and maybe in some small part, fear of growing up. This meant he wasn’t a kid anymore, not a teenager, leaning on his parents’ support, but a man, standing on his own two feet. Could he do it? Was he ready?

“I need to get back,” he said, standing to his feet. “I’ll think about what you’ve said.” Leaning over his grandpa, he hugged his neck and left.  On nearing the lobby, his grandpa’s words whisked in his head, saw her talking to that nurse guy.

What nurse guy? Curious, Roman continued walking toward the nurse’s station. A young male nurse reclined in a chair behind the counter. He was something, just the very kind of guy he would have avoided in school, too confident in his own abilities, everything handed to him simply because he could smile.

A female nurse appeared at his side. Leaning over his back, she rubbed herself across his shoulders and planted a kiss on his neck.

Wanting to vomit, Roman changed his mind about snooping and revolved on one heel, but before he could get very far, he overheard a name that stopped him in place.

“I can’t believe you played that stupid volunteer girl like that,” the female nurse said.

“Coralee.” The male nurse laughed. “Stupid name. Stupid girl. I don’t for one moment believe anything she told me either ... She’s too dumb.”

The female nurse wrapped her arms around his neck. “She doesn’t give you what I do ...”

His insides heated, Roman faced them again, and they looked up. Separating, they tried to appear like he hadn’t seen anything at all, smoothing their clothing, fidgeting with things on the desk.

“Can I help you?” the male nurse asked.

Walking up to the counter, Roman wadded his hand into a fist. Guys like him didn’t know what was good when it hit them. He’d had the best girl ... woman ... on the planet right in front of him and looked the other way? Worse, he insulted her. She was everything ... everything, and he wanted nothing more than to spend every day of his life looking at her.

“That volunteer, Coralee,” Roman began, “the one you called stupid?”

The male nurse’s brow drew tight.

“Yeah, well, I love her, and here’s proof.” Hauling his fist back, Roman swung it outward, pounding his knuckles into the nurse’s pristine nose, satisfied at the crunch of bone.

Blood dripping down off his chin, the nurse spewed curse words. “I’ll have you arrested. That was assault.”

Roman laughed. “And I’ll tell your boss you about you and your co-worker. Might cost you your job.”

The nurse’s face paled. “Please, sir, I didn’t mean it ...”

“Yeah, you did, and so did I. Bother her again, and you’ll regret it.” He stared at the nurse a moment longer then made his escape.

In his car, hands shaking, he collapsed. Unsure if he wanted to laugh or cry, he concentrated instead on his breathing, and the truth of it all smacked him in the chest. He loved Coralee Pirtle, and he was ready to propose. But given all their troubles lately, there was only one way to do it.

He inhaled. He’d need help, and for that, he had to talk to her brother, Spencer.

It occurred to me, standing over Manuela while she scrubbed the tile by hand, that I’d gone too far. She hadn’t even complained. I’d slung her a bucket and a brush then hovered overhead like some slave driver. When had I turned into that?

Unhappy with myself, I cleared my throat. “Hey, you can stop.”

She looked up, her hair damp from dragging in the soapy water. “No, I finish, like you said.” She grasped the brush again and smeared it around on the tile.

“Manuela, I’m asking you to stop.”

She paused. “You don’t want the tile clean?”

“I want ...” I looked at her. “To talk. Can we do that?”

She sat back on her heels. “Yes, of course. Then I’ll finish the tiles.”

I waved my hand like “whatever”, and she crawled to her feet. “We’ll sit in the back,” I said.

She trailed after me through the storage room to Grandpa’s, now Roman’s office, and I stepped inside. She hung back outside the door.

“Mister Roman, he don’t like me in here.”

That was interesting, and I wondered why briefly. “I’ll tell him I allowed it. Please?”

She hesitated a moment before stepping inside and taking a seat. I opted to sit beside her rather than across the desk. That, again, made me feel too much like her boss, and suddenly, I wanted to know more about her, and greatest of all, to be totally open with her about things. She deserved that.

My jealousy had gone too far. It’d caused me to make bad decisions that affected others. I’d been hateful and petty, and, regardless of how things were or weren’t between Roman and me, should have acted better.

“I want to apologize,” I said. “I’ve been jealous.”

“Jealous?” She acted totally surprised, flicking her hair over her shoulder.

I inhaled. If I was going to do this, I was going to do it right ... tell the truth and take the consequences. “Of your time with Roman.”

“Mister Roman?” she asked. “He loves you very much.”

He did? I mean, of course, he did. Why did I doubt that?

“He always talk about you,” she continued, “say he can’t wait for you to get back, and he look at his phone a lot, checking the time. I wish I had someone to love me like that.”

A rock formed in my throat, and my image of myself shrunk to about an inch high. Not only had I been awful to her, I’d been unfaithful to Roman. While he was waiting for me, I was flirting with Trace. In the end, that had meant nothing to me. I had learned exactly what my brother said I would, that the only guy I ever wanted was the one I already had.

“You ... you don’t?” I asked.

She leaned back in the chair, draping one arm over the arm rest. “No. I had a boyfriend in Mexico, but he leave me for someone else.”

“No way. You’re too pretty.” I was sincere.

She smiled. “You are kind. But he don’t think so because he sleep with another girl.”

“Seriously? Was he nuts? Look at you!”

She laughed. “I like you, Coralee.”

I got quiet then. She liked me? After how I’d been? I didn’t deserve that. I deserved a slap in the face. I deserved ... to clean the tiles by hand.

“Can I ask you a question?” I said.

She nodded.

I hadn’t any girl-friends really. Even in high school, I’d pretty much been a loner. That had only gotten worse in recent years, and sometimes, I felt the lack of it. I mean, girls were supposed to talk to other girls about girl-stuff, and I had a boatload of questions regarding Roman and no one to talk to. I think at that moment, they all fell out.

“He and I have never ...” I let my statement fade.

“Never?” she asked.

I shook my head. “We said we wouldn’t until marriage, which lately seems to be on my mind a lot, so ...”

“You are nervous,” she said.

I blew out a breath. “Yeah, and I can’t tell him because it’s like ... I don’t know, setting off an atomic bomb? We’ve been together four years, and I feel like if I pressure him, I change ‘us.’ Does that make sense?”

She smiled and patted my arm. I looked down at her hand.

“I’m thinking change is hard for you,” she said.

This brought my eyes back up. “You have no idea.”

“Sometimes change is hard, but even then, it is good. I come here alone, leave my family at home in Mexico, but the change was good for me. I miss them, but can send them money now.”

The rock in my throat returned. I hadn’t had to face that. In fact, I lived in a bubble, my mom and dad, my brother, even Roman and the Averys, my entire world, not thinking about what happened to others like Manuela.

“I think you be okay,” she said. “Mister Roman knows he have a good thing.”

Did he? Right then I knew I did. I had the best man in the world. No way was I turning him loose.

“While we talk ...” she said. “I’m nervous about tomorrow ... being alone. I mess up so badly this week.”

I turned aside my selfish thoughts and focused on her. It was true. She had messed up badly, but then look at what had happened to me when I started. The stories returned and laughter rose in my throat.

“Oh, you’re not alone,” I said. “Let me tell you about the time someone asked me for a nipple ...”

CHAPTER 5

The downtown city park held only two moms and two toddlers. But then, this time of day all the kids would still be in school. One little boy ran backwards up the slide, and Romans thoughts turned to his own mom years ago. She’d never let him do that, and as trivial as that seemed, it was in large part exactly how he was today. He couldn’t ever do anything “backwards,” but only left to right or top to bottom. He operated in large part exactly like a column of numbers – logical and orderly with always the same result.

Until now, he’d been satisfied with that. He liked his life, liked himself. He loved Coralee. But this decision was bigger than that. This required him moving outside the lines, not following some script.

Lifting his phone, he searched through his contacts for Spencer’s number and dialed. It rang three times before he picked up.

“Roman? You okay? Is Coralee ...?”

“She’s fine. I’m not.”

The line grew quiet.

“I’m miserable actually,” he continued. “I love your sister, but it’s not enough anymore.”

“Gee, I’m sorry ... She told me things were strange and ...”

“She did?”

Again, there was silence.

“Well, I think it hit her you’d been together four years,” Spencer said. “She was frustrated, maybe depressed, so I ... man, I hate to tell you this, but I told her to talk to another guy and see how she felt.”

Talk to another guy. The nurse. She’d done that because of him, because he’d been reluctant to tell her the truth.

“I ... I didn’t mean it bad, but if that broke ya’ll up ...”

“Broke us up?” Spencer’s words leaked into Roman’s brain. “You thought she and I were ... finished?”

“Well, yeah ... you haven’t asked her the big question, and then she got sad on me. I just assumed ...”

Roman’s neck fell back on the headrest, his eyes angled through the windshield toward the sky, and he smiled to himself. All this time, he’d thought she didn’t need him, but she’d only been that way because she did.

He loved Coralee Pirtle, and she loved him. No way was he turning away from that. In fact, he was definitely going to do this.

“I want to get married,” he said.

Spencer fell silent.

“Saturday.”

“Sat ... Saturday?”

Roman switched the phone from one ear to the other. “If I give Coralee any time to think about this, she’ll concoct a million reasons why we shouldn’t. Therefore, I want to do this all at once, give her no way to back out. We’re going to look at houses tomorrow. After the last one, I’ll take her to the shop. If you’ll help me, have everything there ... a dress, cake, whatever you can find will do ... invite all the family, and be sure to have a minister or notary.”

Spencer laughed. “It’s crazy, but it’s perfect.”

“She’s perfect,” Roman replied. “Perfect for me, and I can’t spend one more day without her.”

“Spoken like a man in love.”

Roman smiled wide, joy filling his chest. “You have no idea.”

Roman reentered the shop looking like he’d had dessert, and I couldn’t figure how spending time with Grandpa Avery had done that for him. On the other hand, I was glad because it was way better than him being glum.

“You look ...” I started.

He spread his hands wide. “It’s Friday. I have tomorrow off.”

So okay, that was true, and I guess he was looking forward to it.

“Mister Roman?” Manuela poked her head between us. “I think I like to go home now.”

“Sure ... Oh, but I need to speak with you.”

He sounded super stern then, and I stared at him funny.

“Yes, sir, if you like.”

“My office,” he said. He motioned sharp toward the door, and she followed him into the back.

I let them go, though really, I wanted to get onto him for being mean. There was no call for that. Having talked to her about everything, I’d discovered I liked her. This job was helping her take care of her family, and one day, she’d have enough money to bring them to America.

I decided to speak with him after she left. That way, I could let him have it and not embarrass her any.

They were in there for what felt like a long time, both emerging upset. Roman looked like he was about to explode, and Manuela ducked her head toward the floor. She scooted out really quick, her purse in her hand, and I rounded on him.

“No reason to be hateful. She’s new, so she makes mistakes. I was the same way, you know.”

His face changed then. He pulled his lips to the side, folding the bottom one inward.

“She and I talked. She’s just been nervous, and you’ve been intimidating.”

“Intimidating?” he spoke finally.

“Yes, she needs this job to send money home to Mexico, but feels like with all her mistakes you might let her go.”

“Oh. Well, I’m not going to do that.”

That was a relief. I exhaled.

“I just wanted to go over with her about tomorrow. It’s her first day alone, you know.”

“And she told me she was nervous.”

He shrugged. “So am I, but it’ll be okay.” He walked toward the counter then, flipping open a log book, and I followed.

“So about tomorrow,” I started.

He didn’t look up, so I wasn’t sure if he heard me or not.

“The house hunt?” I continued.

He sighed. “I’m not sure I’m ready.” He pointed his pencil lead at the page. “I’m going to look, but the more I think about it, the more I feel I’m getting ahead of myself.”

“You ... you are?” My stomach sunk somewhere into my shoes.

“Yeah. I’m not in a hurry. Am I?”

“I guess not.”

Though if he felt that way then no way he was going to propose. I inhaled sharp, the word on my lips. Propose. I wanted Roman to propose, and I wanted it in the worst way. I’d been too slow to see it, then afraid we were done. Now, our complacent lives weren’t enough. I no longer wanted to be Coralee Pirtle. I wanted to be Coralee Avery. I wanted to go home to our house, feed our dog, work at our hardware store.

But Roman was going to drag his feet. I clamped my teeth together. He needed a shove, and tomorrow I’d give him one. If I dropped huge hints, he should pick up on my meaning. I’d do that even better. I’d start tonight.

“Hey, tonight, let’s ...”

“I’m busy tonight,” he said. “I ... I have to do some stuff for Grandpa. That’s what he wanted to see me about.”

“Oh.”

My balloon burst.

“We’re together all the time anyhow. It’ll be good for us.”

It ... it would? It would not. I scowled.

“I can help you,” I said. “Whatever he needs you to do ...”

Roman looked up then. He didn’t speak for a moment, and I saw something flicker in his eyes and disappear. Then he returned to the log book. “No. It’s best if I do it alone. In fact, why don’t you go home? I might shut up early.”

Shut up early? Was he ill? My breath fled. Not him, but Grandpa. Grandpa Avery was ill and Roman was trying to protect me from it. Tears burned at my eyelids, but I determined not to cry. Whatever he had, didn’t mean it was fatal.

“I ... sure,” I said, the life gone out of me. Best thing I could do was let Roman deal with it tonight. He’d talk to me tomorrow. I was sure of it. “What time do you want me to come by tomorrow?”

His shoulders slumped, he scratched the back of his head. “Ten, I guess.”

Ten. From then until ten tomorrow stretched out before me, an eternity. What was I supposed to do to occupy my time for all those hours while trying not to get upset over Grandpa Avery?

“You’ll call me later?” I asked.

He glanced up. “If you want.”

“It’d be ... nice.”

He smiled slightly then, and I stared at him, emotion running high. How had I ever thought anyone else would make me as happy as he did?

“I love you,” I said, spur of the moment.

He lowered his pencil. “I love you, too.”

I had no reason to stay after that, and so made my escape.

I couldn’t find anyone – my mom and dad, even Spencer seemed to have vanished. Pacing through the house for hours, I finally fed myself and sat down to watch TV. Two hours later, I was going crazy. I tried Spencer again. Nothing. Not even a text.

Unhappy, I had the crazy idea to go to the nursing home. I’d talk to Mama Dullas. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be asleep. Old people always went to bed early.

My mind made up, I grabbed my purse and drove myself there. Rounding the corridor, I passed Ofina, and she gave me the strangest face. Kinda like she was afraid of me. Bizarre.

Pushing my thoughts of her aside, I continued on my way and arrived outside Mama Dullas’ door in short order. Knocking on the wall, I waited for her response before walking inside.

She had on her gown, one of those long flowy ones, looked like something from a 1940s magazine. In fact, give her a pair of heels, and she’d be a model.

“Coralee,” she said. “I knew you’d come.”

“You did?”

She nodded. “Intuition. You and I are a lot alike.”

I was curious why, so I asked. “How’s that?”

“When I was your age,” she began, “I was married to husband five, Bertram. We were married the longest, three blissful years.”

That didn’t seem long to me.

“What happened?”

“His heart failed. He was always sickly. He’d have these ... spells ...” She hushed then as if gathering her thoughts. “One night he had one worse than the rest and was gone. I learned I hated death.”

I couldn’t speak. What was there for me to say?

“But I also learned I loved life. For all the husbands I’ve lost, it was the life we lived that I remember now, not the death. Husband number six, Rothschild, took me places. We traveled to London and Paris, Vienna. We visited the Alps. He choked on a sausage.” Her wistful tone changed, and she made a face. “Awful thing, but to his credit, he’d always said he wanted his ashes scattered on a mountain.”

I coughed. “You ... did that?”

“Had a beautiful ceremony. A children’s choir sang German folk songs while I tossed him in the wind.” She gave a sigh. “He taught me you’re never too set in your ways to try something. There’s so many interesting places to see, fascinating people to speak with. Even here in the nursing home, I’ve heard amazing stories. Why the man down the hall ... Mr. Dingelhoffer ... he once swam the English Channel. Of course, he may be making that up to get with me.”

I half-laughed. Who else but Mama Dullas would say that?

“Husband seven?” I prompted.

“Hamish. We met on a tram on my way back from the ceremony. He followed me clear across Europe and back to the States. I wasn’t interested in marriage again, I thought, but he was so persistent.”

“Is that what you learned?” I asked.

She dipped her chin. “That and I hated haggis. He was Scottish, had thick brogue, ate that nasty stuff night and day, I think.” She curved one hand over my arm. “Never let a man force you to eat something you don’t want.”

Her grip tightened, so I bobbed my head. “O-kay.”

I realized then we were down to Horace, husband number eight. He’d been the one I wanted to know about from the start, and for some reason I couldn’t name, I had to know what it was ... tonight. I didn’t know why that mattered, just that it did.

“Horace?” I asked.

She detached herself from me and got up. She went into her bedroom and was gone for quite some time, returning with a black and white photo in her hand. Extending it to me, she stood until I accepted it before she sat down again.

“This is him?”

He was handsome, nice pressed suit, shiny shoes.

“Yes,” she said.

I dropped the picture to the table. “Mama Dullas, what made him your favorite?”

She smiled, wide. “He taught me the greatest thing of all, and I only wish I’d known it with husbands one through seven. He wasn’t the kindest man, or the friendliest. He didn’t buy me gifts or take me places. He couldn’t write poetry. For that matter, he never left me a single note.”

He sounded awful. How could he have been her favorite? She’d had so many others that were special.

“From Horace I learned I was strong,” she said. “He’d yell at me, and I’d yell back. We’d part for days. We even separated once.”

“Why’d you get back together?”

Her lips curved. “Because he needed me, and that’s what made him my favorite. Not that he did anything spectacular, not that he was rich or famous, but that without me in his life, he’d fall apart. We were married fifty-six years,” she said.

Fifty-six?

“He died last year,” she said, “and not a minute goes by that I don’t long to see his face. The others I remember.” She pointed one finger at me. “But Horace I can’t forget.”

I knew then exactly what she meant, and tears in my eyes, couldn’t stop them from falling.

She lowered her finger, tapping it on my wrist. “Say yes, child. When he asks, say yes.”

Roman zipped the tuxedo coat into a garment bag in his parents’ bedroom and exited, running into his mom in the hall.

She clasped her hands to his cheeks, compressing them hard, then dragged his head to her chest. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“I won’t do it if you suffocate me.”

She gave a girlish laugh. “My baby’s all grown up.”

Tugging himself free, Roman straightened, shaking his shirt into place. He gave her a smile. “Just remember to bring your baby’s change of clothing or I’ll be married in blue jeans.”

She nodded, sharp. “I will not forget, and your father talked with Coralee’s brother about my brother doing the ceremony.”

“I forgot he was a notary.”

She patted his cheek. “He’s catching a red-eye, says he’ll be here by mid-morning.”

“Okay.” He made to move past her, but she followed on his heels. “Did they find Coralee a dress? It’s all so last minute.” She clapped her hands then, in childlike excitement.

“Spencer’s girlfriend found one, a friend of a friend, or some such.”

“She’ll be so pretty.”

Pretty. His mom’s words stuck in his throat. She’d be more than pretty. She’d be beautiful and at the end of it all, his.

His mother caressed the back of his head, her fingers running through his hair. “It hit you, huh?”

He nodded, unspeaking.

“You’ll be fine, and I’m proud of you.”

Turning around, he looked up at her. On impulse, he threw his hands around her waist and suddenly, he was five, the age when mom was everything.

Her hands found a place in the midst of his back. His cheek to her chest, he inhaled. He released her, and once again, became Roman Avery, age twenty-two. “You’ll get Grandpa tomorrow?”

She nodded. “He called me last week.” Her smile widened. “He said you were going to ask Coralee, and I’d better be prepared because he didn’t think you’d wait.”

Last week? Before they’d talked. “He ... he said that?”

“Mmm. He knew you would because that’s what he did, and you’re as much like him as you are your dad.”

That was the best compliment she could give him really and made him feel right in this decision. It’d worked out for him and Grandma, after all.

“Thanks,” he replied. “For everything.”

His mom leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “No. Thank you. I couldn’t ask for a child any better or a daughter I love more. Now, don’t you worry about anything. We’ve got it all covered.”

Roman drew in a breath and held it until his lungs would burst. “I ... I promised I’d call Coralee tonight,” he said, “but I think I need a moment to figure out how to sound sad. You should have seen her when I told her I wanted time alone. It was like someone died.”

Revolving on his heel, he headed for the kitchen. “Maybe if I drink some of that awful mineral stuff you keep in there. That’ll make me sour, for sure.”

His mom’s voice called from down the hall. “That stuff is good for you.”

He laughed. He would miss her saying that. But tomorrow was his wedding day, and he wasn’t looking back.

CHAPTER 6

Roman steered Coralee up the driveway toward the realtor on the front steps. Head craned backward, eyes fastened on the front steps, she scuffed her shoes down the path.

“It’s ... nice,” she said.

He took a second look. To his mind, less nice and more worn out. It definitely needed paint, and the eaves were rotting on one end.

“Rachel Wilson,” the realtor said, extending one hand. “You must be Roman Avery.”

He nodded. “This is Coralee Pirtle.” His fiancée, though she didn’t know it.

“Nice to meet you, Coralee.” Taking Coralee’s hand, Ms. Wilson gave it an enthusiastic shake. She then stood tall, adjusting the sleeves of her suit coat, and gestured upward. “I know it needs some minor repairs, and for that reason, they’ve taken ten thousand off the price. I think we can get them to lower it even further ... if you decide you’re interested.” She reached for the door knob. “Let’s go inside.”

Inside, scarred wooden floors and fuchsia walls told of the previous owner’s lack of cleanliness ... and poor taste.

“Again, it needs paint,” she said, “but it has such a quaint feel.”

Quaint, or tiny? He didn’t comment.

“How many square feet?” Coralee strolled ahead of him, peering around a corner.

She’d been very strange since arriving at his house.

What is wrong with my family? They’re not speaking, acting all furtive, like they have some big secret, she’d said.

He’d suggested maybe they didn’t feel well, and in the end, he wasn’t sure she believed him. His own mom had been too enthusiastic. He’d had to take her aside and ask her to tame it.

“Nine hundred fifty. It has three bedrooms, one bath.”

Closets. It had closets with nooks for clothes. Showing his lack of enthusiasm proved easy the further they went along. The kitchen was decidedly out of date, the appliances circa nineteen eighty-two and cabinets ten years older than that. The back yard was a weed pit.

“This hasn’t been tended in a year,” he said.

The realtor’s face reddened. “It needs work, yes, I’ll grant you that.”

“I’m not feeling it.” He turned aside.

“Very well. We can go to the next place. If you’ll follow?”

He accepted her words with a nod, and they made their way back to the car. Seated, his key in the ignition, he exhaled. “That was awful.”

Coralee didn’t speak, which worried him some. He’d laid it on thick last night about not seeing her, and even after his phone call last night, she’d seemed glum. Hopefully, her mood wouldn’t damper the entire day.

Especially this evening. Things being so last minute had proved difficult. The cake, for one, looked more like a birthday than a wedding, but he guess it was the flavor that mattered. Then late last night thoughts of their honeymoon had cropped up, both in cost and location. He’d resolved it, saying she wouldn’t care where they went, so long as they were together.

Pulling into the driveway at the second house, his thoughts switched again. It was cleaner than the first. More of a ranch style, it sprawled out over a half-acre of ground. In the back, a children’s tree house took up an entire side of the yard. But cracks in the foundation worried him, and the roof needed to be replaced.

Coralee’s enthusiasm seemed to have returned. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s not too bad. Bigger than the first one.”

“It’s not me,” he replied. “I want to have a connection with the place since I’ve got to live there.”

The road to house number three was incredibly familiar. Driving up to the curb, he couldn’t believe his eyes, and he exited, disbelief surging through him. “This ... this is it?”

Ms. Wilson turned in a circle. “Yes, sir. Home has only had one owner. Needs a little cleaning, otherwise its in good shape.”

“It’s Grandpa’s place,” Coralee said.

“Grandpa?”

Roman faced the woman. “My grandfather, Norman Avery. Did you know?”

“Well, seems like the name was Avery.” She tapped her chin. “I simply never put it together. You’ll know about the place then. I can find some other listings, and we’ll move on ...”

“I’ll take it.”

Coralee looked up. Ms. Wilson startled. “Sir?”

“You see that window.” He pointed toward one to the left of the stoop. “That was the room where I stayed the night, the place my grandpa knelt by the bed and read me a story, where my grandmother tucked me in and prayed I’d have ‘sweet dreams.’ Just steps away is their room, the place I’d sneak into, thinking they’d hid treasures inside.”

Ms. Wilson’s face creased with a smile.

“It’s exactly where I want to start my new life,” he said. “It holds memories, and I’ve found those are the most valuable things one can own.”

“I believe you’re right,” Ms. Wilson said. “I’ll get the paperwork. Oh, and if you’d like to go in ...” She dangled a key at the end.

He took the key and, crossing the well-used walk, unlocked the aged door and stepped inside. It smelled neglected, not full of life as it’d once been. But there and there and there were stories from his life. He paused in the kitchen entrance, and Coralee stepped to his side, slipping her arm through his.

“I came prepared to talk you into buying something,” she said.

He glanced down at her.

“I guess because you needed it.” She halted. “No, that’s not true. I was being entirely selfish. I wanted you to buy a house because we needed it.” Facing him, she slipped her other arm around his waist and dropped her head to his chest. “Things have been weird ... us not talking about what we should have talked about.”

Roman’s heart skipped a beat.

“I hated you hired Manuela. I hated you did it without asking me. I hated her being a girl ... a very pretty girl.”

“Coralee, I’m sorry ...”

She tossed her head back. “No, I’m sorry. I doubted you ... I doubted us. Instead, of voicing my fears, I fed on them. I ... I ...” Her cheeks pinked and her head dropped. Wiggling, uncomfortably, she picked at his shirt.

“Is this about the nurse?” he asked.

Her face lifted and her lashes flared. “You ... you know?”

A smile crooked on his face.

Her gaze narrowed. “What did you do?”

With a grin, he balled up his fist and swung.

She stared at his hand, then with one finger traced the cut on his knuckle. “You punched him?” Falling against him, her laughter warmed his skin through his shirt. “That must ... h-have been ... sweet. Mr. Perfect. Wait ...” Her face flipped upward. “Did you get in trouble?”

Roman shook his head. “No, because I caught him schmoozing with some co-worker.”

“Ofina.”Coralee’s lip curled.

“I wasn’t introduced.”

Her giggles returned, the sound filling the house, and his confidence rose with it. The house, his upcoming proposal, tomorrow as the first day of the rest of their lives, all were exactly how they should be. Cupping her cheek, he tilted her face toward his, and without pause, kissed her.

“Let’s go,” he said after. “I need to make one more stop.”

“Okay.”

Folding their fingers together, he made his way out.

Ms. Wilson approached. “Mr. Avery,” she said. “It seems the house was taken off the market yesterday, and I wasn’t informed. The homeowner intends to rent the place to his grandson.” She chuckled, her belly shaking. “This is a first.”

Roman wrapped one arm around Coralee’s shoulders. “The first of many,” he said.

Not bothering to explain, he waved at the realtor and returned to his car. He aimed them toward the hardware store.

“So what’s this errand?” she asked.

He slid into afternoon traffic. “Oh, just have to stop at the hardware store.”

She angled herself toward him. “The hardware store? Did Manuela call?”

“No, but she’s new, and I’ll feel better checking in.”

Ignoring Coralee’s intense gaze, he continued driving. Arriving minutes later, he grasped her hand and walked to the door. The bell on the door dinged as they entered.

“Mister Roman,” Manuela said. She tossed her head, swirling her hair over her shoulder. “I didn’t expect to see you.”

He smiled at her and winked. “I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“Is fine. Only a few customers today.”

“What’s ... that smell?” Coralee’s nose twitching, she pointed her face toward the storeroom. “That smells like ....”

Grandpa Avery walked out.

“Grandpa?”

“I missed the old place,” he said. “Thought I’d come by for a while.”

“But who brought you?”

Roman’s parents popped into the front room.

Her brow drew inward. “What’s ... what’s going on? Why is everybody ...?”

Her parents, her brother, Spencer, and his girlfriend, Cindy, as well as her uncle and aunt also appeared, and she whirled. “You ... This is ...”

Roman dug in his pocket for the box that had weighted it all morning long and dropping down on one knee, flicked it open. A diamond ring gleamed in the fluorescent lights. “This is me removing all the doubts you’ve had,” he said. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I love you, Coralee. Will you marry me?”

I stared in disbelief at the ring in Roman’s hand, then the circle of people standing around us, and my stomach did a flip-flop. “This is for real?”

Laughter rippled through the room.

“It’s for real,” he said.

“Say yes,” my brother yelled.

I glared at him. “This is my engagement, not yours.”

This made everyone laugh again.

“Well?” Roman asked.

Giddiness slammed into me. He’d asked. He’d actually asked. I let out a squeal and threw myself at him. He lifted me off my feet.

“That looks like yes to me,” Grandpa Avery said.

I couldn’t breathe, much less talk, so resorted to nodding my head. Removing the ring from the box, Roman slid it on my hand, and I turned it toward the light.

It was perfect. This was perfect. All that time, I’d thought we were over, but we never were.

“Coralee.”

Gazing over the edge of the stone, I sank into the rich green of Roman’s eyes. He loved me. He loved me. Me, Coralee Pirtle, klutz, nitwit ... and he was so smart and kind. My eyes misted with tears.

With his thumb, he wiped them away. “You didn’t ask why everyone was here,” he said.

I sniffled and glanced around the room. “Wh-why?” I’d assumed it was strictly for effect. I mean, everyone here wanted this to happen. They loved us.

He took my hands in his. “I know how your brain works, how ten days, two months, however-long from now, you’ll start to spaz out over this.”

I considered that. He was right. I probably would. After the news wore off, making so many decisions about a wedding would eat at me. Thinking of that already made me nervous.

“I have a solution,” he said. “Marry me ... today.”

“To-today?” I started to tremble. “But there’s so much ...”

“All taken care of,” he said.

A light bulb went off in my brain. “This is why you didn’t want me around, why I couldn’t find anyone! You ... you were planning this.”

He smiled. “Marry me today, Coralee. My uncle will do the ceremony. You mom has a dress. Everyone’s here who matters.”

My tears returned, and I let out a sob. “I ... can never ... make it ... up to you ...”

He chuckled and wrapped me in his arms. “All I want is you, Coralee. From now to forever. Say yes.”

I looked up at him, too happy for words, and thought of Mama Dullas and Horace. You’d think I wouldn’t right then, but I learned something about Roman right then – that he was all the things Mama Dullas had loved about Eddie, Idlebert, Zane, Fernando, Bertram, Rothschild, Hamish, and Horace. I didn’t have to marry eight men to learn everything she knew. I only had to marry one, and here, he was right in front of me.

I nodded. “Yes. Today.”

His face lit. “Yes? You ... you said yes. Yes, today. I’m getting married.” He was babbling.

My mom stepped forward and took my hand. “Then we need to get you changed.” We went in the back and she shut the door. There, hanging from a shelf was a lovely white gown. It fit perfectly, too.

“Whose?” I asked, as she fastened the back.

“Not sure. Spencer hunted it up.”

Spencer? I twisted around to see her.

“I think you’ve inspired him,” she said. “He’s thinking about making his relationship with Cindy more serious now.”

That was great because I liked her, and they’d been together as long as me and Roman.

Turning me around, my mom inhaled. “You look lovely. I’ll just brush your hair.” She drew a brush through my hair, and it poofed around my face. “You ready?”

I nodded and headed for the door, but a short distance away halted. “My shoes,” I said. “I’m wearing sneakers.”

My mom gasped. “No. I forgot. In the rush for everything else, I never considered.”

I stuck out my foot, and a laugh escaped. “I’ve never been a fashion model,” I said, “and Roman will love me anyway.”

My mom’s face calmed, and she smiled softly. “Yes, he will.”

With that, I opened the door. Cindy handed me a bouquet of flowers, and my dad offered his arm. We circled to the end of aisle number three.

“I love you,” my dad said.

I squeezed his arm. “I love you, too.”

The wedding march played from a recording over the store speakers, and he reached across laying his hand on mine. At an even pace, we walked between pipe fittings and pvc glue toward the counter at the end.

But all I saw was the man gazing back at me, the one with blond hair and gray-green eyes that accepted me just like I am.

I was babbling. “ ... and then we can go down to the pool. I want to try the Jacuzzi. Plus, there’s that restaurant.” Racing across the hotel room, I threw open the doors to the balcony and went outside.

I couldn’t believe we’d managed to get rooms at this place. I mean, our marriage was all so last minute. But my dad had pulled in a favor. “We can play putt-putt,” I shouted to Roman. “You always like that.”

“Yes,” he replied.

His voice loud in my ear, I spun around. “Anything you want to do?” I realized at that minute I’d asked a loaded question, and a rock the size of Colorado formed in my throat.

He took my hand and dragged me back inside the room, shutting the doors and pulling the drapes. “One thing.”

Oh, boy.

Pulling me close, he placed one hand on either cheek, and all this hit me like a ton of bricks. “We’re ... we’re married,” I whispered.

He smiled and nodded.

“So this is ...”

“Our honeymoon.”

“And people expect us to ...”

He was kinda laughing now, and I couldn’t blame him. I was being dumb.

“I never catch on,” I said. “If I had, we’d have figured this out months ago, and ...”

“Coralee.”

I shut up. I also talked too much when I was nervous.

Roman’s hands were doing fantastic things on my face, sending shivers down my spine. He had that look, too, the “Coralee” look. He tilted my chin up and brushed his lips over mine.

“Wait.”

He halted, his brow crinkling.

“I’m processing.”

This made him smile.

“You ... you really want this?” I asked. That seemed like a dumb question, except I needed to hear his answer. I mean, I wasn’t anything fantastic. Other girls were prettier and smarter.

“It’s all I’ve wanted for months,” he said.

Months? “That’s ...”

“Human,” he replied.

I must have looked funny then because he sighed.

“I love you, Coralee,” he said. “I married you because I couldn’t get enough of you. I didn’t want you to go home all those nights. I wanted you with me, and now, you are. And ...” He paused. “We waited for this night so that this moment would be special.”

I gulped. We had. While every other couple I knew was shacking up, we stayed faithful to our promise to each other, saving our first time together as the ultimate act of commitment, and I was committed, to him, to us. I’d said my vows. He’d said his. From now on, we could be together as much as we wanted.

“So we’re really gonna do this,” I said.

He kinda laughed. “We really are.”

“You and me and ...” I glanced down at the bed.

“Uh huh,” he replied.

He kissed the corner of my mouth then and proceeded to trail his lips over my face. Taking hold of my blouse, he worked the buttons free, and I gave into the heat and haze taking over my mind. I loved this man. I was his wife. He was my husband, so there was everything right with wanting each other. And right then, I wanted him worse than anything.

“I ... been ... trying ... to paste myself ... to your chest ... for ages,” I said between breaths.

He grunted.

“And then ... there’s your ... butt ... It’s pretty fantas ... Ow ...” I reached for his hand, pulling it away. “Maybe you’d better let me do that,” I said. “There’s a trick to it.”

“A trick?” he asked.

“I can see now you’re gonna need me. Girls’ clothing is evidently not your thing.”

He was laughing now, his eyes sparkling. “Then by all means ...”

“You sure you can handle it?” I asked. “After all, this is our first, and it’s gonna be spectacular.”

“Why don’t you try me and see?”

“Well, okay,” I began. “Here goes ...”

He inhaled a huge breath, which burst out in a whoosh. His hand raised, he hovered it over my skin. “Wow.”

I smiled. Enough said.

THE END