“One taste and you were hooked? Good to know.”
“No, when your phone auto-corrected to butt cake.”
She laughs. “Good to know I got you with humor.”
“Actually, it may have been in line at the Busy Bee.”
“I’m quite sure you hated me from the start.”
I correct, “I hated myself. Not you. Jessica, I loved you the moment I laid eyes on you.”
She slides next to me on the couch and rests her head on the little crook between my arm and chest. After a moment, she sniffles. “I never cried in front of people before you, the guy most people would’ve assumed didn’t tolerate tears.”
“I don’t … except yours. And KJ’s, but I’m glad I could help.”
“You helped me too.”
“To cry? Says the guy with one feeler.”
“Like antennae?”
She giggles.
“I feel lots of things, especially for you.”
A long sigh escapes, lifting and lowering my chest.
“I thought we were too different.”
I nod. “Optimistic versus cynical.”
“Surly versus sunny.”
I say, “Maybe some of your infectious enthusiasm and warmth rubbed off on me.”
“Maybe we complement each other.”
“Just don’t start shoving people into Plexiglass.”
“I am learning to skate.”
I chuckle. “Terror on blades.”
“I can’t imagine had I married Rexlan. Every day with you is like the first day of the rest of my life.”
I squeeze her close.
She says, “Are we going to tell our kids we met because I had to pee?”
A low, rumbling laugh rips through me. Getting to my feet, I help Jessica to hers. “I got you something.”
“Me?”
I lead her to a shelf holding a box with a bow. Jessica unwraps it to reveal a record player.
She jumps up and down. “This is so thoughtful. Thank you.”
I get a big hug and then she puts on a record. It’s an older band, maybe from the fifties or sixties, but I recognize the first song from our wedding.