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“I take it I did good?”
“Better than good. I love it.”
“Where are all the guests?” Zander asks, wrinkling his brow.
Aside from Connie, we’re the only ones at the reception.
Cole squats to Zander’s level. “Remember how I was telling you about my Uncle Buckee?”
Zander nods, pushing his glasses up his nose.
“He got pretty sick last week.” Cole’s eyes flicker to mine. “Right when we got the marriage license.”
I can tell he’s explaining to me why none of his family came. It makes me feel better to know that they’re no-shows, not because they question our union and not because today was meaningless to him, but because they needed to be there for Buckee.
A reason that makes me feel even worse. I’ve never met Buckee, but by all accounts, he’s the glue that holds the family together.
“Marriage license?” Zander asks, but Cole shakes his head.
“It doesn’t matter buddy. The point is that with the family so concerned, I thought it’d be best if we told them about the wedding once Buckee’s stable again.”
“And?” Connie asks, her eyebrows shooting up.
I know she’s met Buckee a few times during her own hospital stints. Had they grown closer recently?
Cole’s smile settles my stomach, and apparently Connie’s as she lets out a sigh of relief.
“He’s totally stable and cracking tons of jokes again. He’ll be discharged tomorrow. We’ll have an informal reception at the ranch later. More of our family will be able to come since it’ll be Saturday, so it probably works out better that way. I doubt we could fit my entire extended family in my backyard anyway.”
Connie pats her hair, which is reminiscent of white candyfloss, and says, “Well, I guess I ought to pay him a visit. After you two lovebirds, of course.”
“Can I eat the cake now?” Zander says, hiding his finger that’s already smeared in chocolate.
“Hang on,” Connie says, grabbing her digital camera. The only modern invention she swears by. “I need some snapshots before you ruin that flannel with icing.”
Connie’s actually quite a good photographer.
“I love photos,” she told me once when she captured a candid picture of some bikers shoveling cake at the diner. “It’s like a time capsule. Forever frozen.”
Was that why she loved the diner’s decor so much? Because it’s a frozen period in her life? The decade that she first started her business?
Maybe I could explain to her that she could capture every portion of the diner including its recipes with her camera, so she’d always have it frozen in time even as her diner moved on to the future.
That aside, I think she’s itching to retire so she can spend more time on her photography. Maybe she’ll have an exhibit at the small art gallery in town.
As Connie maneuvers us around for the best background and lighting, I’m sure the setting will only make the photos more convincing, not just for Cole’s family, but for CPS who may be expecting a happy photo or two on the walls. I smile and laugh as Zander makes all kinds of weird poses. When I look up, I expect to see Cole smiling at Zander too, but he’s looking at me. His intensity takes my breath away as I look into his eyes. Then I hear a click that lets me know Connie captured that moment too.
“Can. we. cut. the. cake. Nowww?” Zander asks through his teeth.
“Yes,” Cole and I say in unison as we lead the photoshoot toward the small high table.
Just as I pick up the knife, Connie says, “Get closer to your wife, Cole. Wrap your hand around hers. That’s it. Go on, touch her. She won’t break.”
Cole steps so close behind me that his front is pressed into the top of my ass. One of his hands curls around my waist and the other grasps my hand holding the knife.
“Ready, baby?” he asks in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.
It’s just cutting the cake, so why do I suddenly feel like I can’t do the simple task of pulling the knife through the top tier? Not that I need to as Cole guides my hand and does it for me.
