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“There you are, my boy. Your grandmother’s waiting for you in the kitchen.”
“We’ve been summoned,” I say.
“Pretty much.” Dad laughs. “Marci, darling, you’re looking radiant today.” He draws her into a hug. “How are you feeling? You two have gotten hitched so quick, you’ve made our heads spin. Haven’t even gotten the chance to congratulate you on your engagement, let alone your marriage.”
Fuck.
I don’t want to disappoint my family, but that’s all I ever do.
“It happened so fast,” Marci says, reaching out and taking my hand.
She squeezes it, and I appreciate the gesture.
“Jesse’s a man who goes after what he wants. I hope you’re not upset that you weren’t included.”
“I understand how it is,” Dad says. “Let’s see what Ganny’s got to say about it.”
“What I’ve got to say about it is that you two owe us a party.”
Ganny stands in the doorway to the living room, her hands on her hips. She’s tiny, her hair puffy and tinged blue, and she always smells like roses and, strangely, old paper.
I hug her and she pecks my cheek.
She puts out her arms to Marci, who walks into the embrace with a smile that’s laden with guilt.
“I don’t know what you two were thinking, running off like that without telling a darn soul about it,” Ganny says. “I expected more from you, Jesse. It’s almost like you were rushing to get married before Cash and June.”
“Why would he need to do that?” Marci asks. “Jesse doesn’t need to compete with anyone. He’s his own person.”
Ganny’s hand flutters to her throat.
“Oh, of course not. I didn’t mean anything like that, dear. I’m sad we didn’t get to partake in the celebration.”
“We can remedy that.” I draw Marci to my side and slide my hand over the curve of her waist. “We’d be happy to have a wedding party with family and friends.”
“More than happy,” Marci puts in, and I like the set of her jaw.
I like that she stood up for me.
“Wonderful,” Ganny says. “Now, come into the kitchen and have some lemonade. I made it fresh.”
She beckons for us to follow her.
Dad touches my shoulder, and I hang back while Marci follows her.
“You sure about this, son?”
Thomas Taylor always gets straight to the point. I like that about my father, but I don’t need this from him.
“Of course.”
I frown.
“Wipe that look off your face,” he says. “I’m not trying to offend you. I’m curious if you realize what you’re getting yourself into here. This is not a one-night stand, Jesse. This is the rest of your life. Don’t rush into this. Marriage is a commitment.”
“I’m aware, Dad,” I say. “And I’m not rushing into anything. Marci is the one for me.”
He scratches his chin, the gray stubble rasping.
