Page 225 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

“Jinx,” we say in unison again.

Laughing, she says, “Double jinx.”

“I didn’t know there was a double jinx.”

She says, “The official rules state it can only be used in the case of a tie.” She shrugs. “I don’t make the rules. I just play by them.”

She’s sounding a lot like me these days.

Instead of cake, we celebrate our nuptials with pink strawberry donuts and a taco buffet feast because that’s what she was craving this morning. The caterer wasn’t happy, but he didn’t mind the big tip.

Just as Juni finishes a donut, she dusts her hands on a napkin and asks, “Do you want to tell your mom about the science fair connection now?”

“Another time. I’m rather liking this connection better right now.”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you how cute it is that your first word was leaf. Leaf, Drew. That’s another connection. I said tree. You said leaf.”

“That’s cute that you said tree since you’re a Juniper and all. But my first word wasn’t leaf.”

Holding me by the rolls of my shirt sleeves, she kisses under my chin. “Yes, it was, babe.”

I angle my head down to catch her pretty eyes. “No. My first word was tie.”

“Tie?” she spits in disgust. “Like what you wear with a suit?”

“Yes. It’s a good first word.”

“Not as good as leaf.”

Okay, now I’m a little offended. “I’m not sure why you thought my first word was leaf, but it wasn’t,” I say, standing my ground. “Why did you think it was leaf?”

With a glass of wine in hand, my mom comes to hug us. She says, “I could tell you two were meant to be the moment I met Juni.”

Both of us look at Cookie at the same time, but Juni says, “His first word was tie. I married him under false pretenses.” She struggles to keep a straight face.

I ask, “Why’d you tell Juni my first word was leaf?”

She takes a sip of wine and winks. “Sometimes destiny needs a helping hand.”

Wrapping my arms around my wife, I give her a kiss on those delectable lips and say, “It all worked out in the end.”

“It sure did.”

The End

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