chest tightens. I need to get out of this dress. “Let’s try another one.” I glance at Mariska.
She nods and leads me back to the dressing room. She helps unfasten the dress and lifts it over my head. I suppose she is right. It would be rather difficult to put on and take off a dress of this magnitude alone. I imagine Jack taking off my dress on our wedding night. My stomach tingles. In some ways I do wish we could skip over some things and just get to the marriage part. But I do want to make the special memories and have the pictures to prove they happened. I want to be able to show my children and grandchildren my wedding. Our wedding.
I open the door and peek out at Brianna; her eyes are focused on her phone. She must sense me watching.
“I’m plugging in the dates on my phone. What was it again?” Brianna strides towards me with her phone in hand.
“October twenty-second.” I clear my throat.
“It really is National Nut Day.” Brianna glances up at me. “You can’t be serious.” She tsks.
I roll my eyes. “I am and I like it. It was Jack’s idea.” Finally, after months of pleading for us to set the date, over the Fourth of July under the glow of a million stars and a gorgeous firework display, Jack suggested we get married on National Nut Day. He said he had been going pecans about me since we met the day before Thanksgiving and it only made sense to wed on this date. I happily obliged, as I’m honestly nuts about him as well. Even though it’s been less than a year since we met, it seemed to take forever to set a date. A date? I still don’t understand entirely why Jack was so reluctant to commit to a number. Being engaged was his idea but when it came to me asking about a date he was always so distant and closed off. I shake my head. That’s over. We are on the same page now. He’s not going to keep anything from me anymore. He promised.
Brianna follows me. “Obviously, because he is freaking nuts… This makes no sense. And don’t even think for one second that I will wear brown to resemble a nut for your wedding. I know how your mom is with the theme outfits and I will not participate.” She tosses her long dark hair over her shoulder.
I roll my eyes. “Got it.” Although, I think it would be hilarious to see what kind of costume my mom could come up with for my bridesmaids, I’m sure it would be nut related. I can imagine the skirts opening up as they walk like a shell and maybe some leaves on their sleeves. I shudder. That is truly a vision that I do not want to become a reality.
After trying on ten different dresses I am ten seconds away from not caring anymore about styles. I decide to call it quits for the day and head home. I’m not sure if the first dress I tried on is the one. It’s very possible. But how do you really know? Is finding a dress kind of like finding a husband? You’re sure but yet there is a small piece of you that wonders if you are making the right decision? Jack is the one for me…but I do worry about whether or not I’m making the right decision. I laugh. That is an absurd thought. This is the best decision of my life. Saying yes to Jack is one hundred percent solid; it’s in no way, no how a bad idea. Everything about him is amazing. He makes me laugh. He makes me swoon and he makes me scream for the right reasons. My insides squeeze together. It’s like my heart is going to burst open at the idea of Jack. He is so sexy. His voice alone sends me over the edge.
Despite all of this a little tiny voice says: Are you sure, Lauren? We haven’t even known each other for a year and he has moved mountains to be with me. And that’s when the other voice pops up and bops that one on the head. Hello. Do we need a sound check? This is love. I would be a fool not to recognize it. And I am no fool. I graduated summa cum laude after all. This does stand for something. Those aren’t just passed out like a ribbon for showing up. They take effort. And I’m a manager of my own team. Again, proof of my abilities. All of this should be a further acknowledgement that when I see something I want, I get it. Like Jack. I’ve got him and he’s got me…for eternity. That’s what we have together. The idea of time and aging with Jack doesn’t freak me out—it warms my heart.
His architecture firm is slowly building here and he hired extra staff to take care of Vintage Estates—his family business back in Texas. It’s how we met. My grandmother has an apartment at Vintage Estates. It’s a nice retirement community in Georgetown. She basically set us up, literally and figuratively. All in the name of pecans. I will never forget the day I was in dire need of an extra two ounces of nuts and Jack came to my rescue.
I take in a deep breath and turn the ignition off in my car. Jack has semi-moved into my townhouse in Baltimore. He has his own house in Texas. He wants us to get a bigger house together once we are married. But I don’t see why we need it at this point. My house is plenty big enough for us. What more could we need when we have each other? We both have our careers and I have a very comfy bed. And—even better—Jack is a part of a wine of the month club so we have an endless supply. Which again begs the question of why we would need anything more than this? Shelter, love, and wine. I’m sure Shakespeare must have said something about that. If not, he should have.
I reach for the doorknob and Jack pulls it open. He never ceases to surprise me. He’s wearing a buttoned-down green plaid shirt and khaki shorts. Jack’s blue eyes light up like a candle that’s being lit for the very first time. He leans in and kisses me like he hasn’t seen me in a month. His arms are reaching behind me and pulling me into the house. The door shuts and his hands are running all over my body.
“I hope you found a dress because I don’t want to have another long Saturday without you.” Jack breathes into my ear and my scalp is tingling all over. I meet each of his kisses with my own. My tongue finds his and we engage in a long sensual samba of sensations.
“Is this what you meant about taste buds?” I tug on his lip.
Jack pulls back. “No, but I like your way of thinking.” He guides me to the kitchen where several cakes are sitting on the counters.
I jerk my head back. “I see you’ve been baking?”
“Yes, although I had to do quite a bit of shopping first. The only pan you own is for pies.” Jack chortles. “Was the apple pie the only thing you’ve ever baked here?”
I blink my eyelashes, realization hitting me. Shiat. He has found my stash!
I don’t bake—despite my grandmother asking me to make our family’s pecan pie over Thanksgiving in Texas and then over the summer insisting I enter an apple pie contest. But that sums up my baking experience. Well, I did make Jack a special red velvet cake over Christmas too, but that was in his house and I borrowed my mom’s baking dishes.
I swallow hard and stride to the oven. It’s empty. Of course it is. It would have to be if Jack had been baking. I turn around and meet his cool blues.
“Are you looking for these?” Jack holds up one of my snow globes. My eyes practically fall from my head. I want to dive into the globe and let the gelatinous water and snowflakes cover me, completely buried, hidden from this moment.
I twist my lips from side to side, trying to find something to say. Anything. Obviously he knows the forty something snow globes are mine. But how to explain them and why they are in my oven? I let out a deep breath.
Jack shakes the little globe and inspects the label. “Rome.” He nods. “Interesting, but I’m not sure when Rome has seen any snow?” He laughs.
I let out a small laugh, not because I think what he’s said is funny—maybe in another moment but not this one. The tiny giggle is my attempt at breathing. I’m more embarrassed than I could ever be in front of him.
Jack leans back and grabs another one. “Ah, now see the snow makes sense in this one: Innsbruck!” He places it back down and gestures to the globes. “Have you been to all of these places?”
I swallow. “Some of them.”
Jack’s eyebrows furrow. “Were the others gifts to you from other people’s trips?”
My lips flatline. Beep beep beeeeeeeeep. The flame against my cheeks is so hot, it’s like I’m at an erupting