Page 87 of Love at Teamsgiving
Maybe Mama mentioned the roof cave-in, and he’s concerned about the building’s structural integrity.
“I can’t stay long, but I wanted to tell you something important.”
“What do you mean you can’t stay long?” Red-hot anger rushes through me. “It’sHer, isn’t it? I don’t understand, Asher. This is family. Nothing is more important. I haven’t seen you since Papa’s funeral, you show up unannounced—acting odd, quite frankly—and you can’t stay long because of yourgirlfriend?”
He winces.
My brow furrows. “Do they have clean drinking water over there?” I press my hand to his forehead. “Bug spray? Are you feeling okay?”
“Yes, of course. I’m fine. It’s just that I don’t want you to make the same mistake twice.”
As the trilling laughter of the ladies filters to us, I realize that my brother thinks today is my wedding day. “Bro, if you didn’t notice, I’m wearing orange, er, pumpkin spice. This is Erica and Shane’s big day.”
“I know.”
I squint, not understanding. “Explain yourself.”
With authority in his voice, my usually goofball brother says, “You’re getting married. You know it. He knows it. You want it. He does too.”
Hip-cocked, I sling my arms in front of my chest. “Is that so? Maybe they do things differently overseas, but you’re not marrying me off. I don’t even have a dowry.”
Ordinarily, Asher would laugh. He’s concerningly quiet.
I reiterate, “I’m not getting married. Erica is.”
He nods like I’m the one being thickheaded. “Erica and Shane are getting married today, but you and Mikey are also getting married. You made the mistake of calling it off once. I don’t want to see that happen again. You were made for each other.”
My eyes bulge. “And just how do you know this?”
He taps his temple. “Intel.”
“Mama.”
He doesn’t deny it, but I hear the faint clipping and clopping of hooves from outside. “I have to go. See you at home? Er, our new home.”
He gives me a lazy salute and says, “See you at Thanksgiving.”
Rattled, I think about my fraternal twin. I was the more serious of us two, prickly, shrewd, whatever you want to call it. Asher was like a Golden Retriever with energy to spare. Looking back, after we lost Papa, he wasn’t quite the same. He went to Russia on what he called a “Soul Journey,” metHer, and then landed in Thailand.
Yes, of course, I blameHerand quite honestly, not only do I not want to say her name because she’s the enemy, tearing Asher away from us, but I also can’t pronounce it.
But there’s no time to think about that because Erica calls my name. It’s time to go.
The ride to the church is like a fairy tale. It’s a perfect day and I’m beyond happy for my friend. I tell her so when it’s time for us to line up for the processional. Although I don’t think much more about Asher’s odd visit, when my arm links through Mikey’s, what he said about us getting married accompanies me down the aisle.
He squeezes my arm like he would if we were holding pinkies. A wave of what will be regret if it’s not the two of us doing this someday soon nearly makes me stumble.
My brother’s insistence that Mikey and I get married was odd, but no more than Mama and Mrs. Cruz becoming friends instead of frenemies or Erica and Shane matching Mikey and me up to plan this shindig—at least at the time.
But they were right. He and I are meant to be.
Erica glows. Shane looks dapper—so does Mikey. The pastor performs a beautiful ceremony.
But my mind echoes everything he says as if recalling it from memory, only it’s like reverse déjà vu. Mikey and I were supposed to share this experience.
In a way, perhaps we made unofficial vows. We’ve been together through richer and poorer—college was a financial stretch when he was trying to keep up with his classes, playing and practicing, and working with his dad to get by. I was building my name as a stylist and we’d have noodle-cooking contests, seeing who could make the best meal for the least amount of money. When he was drafted to the Kings, we celebrated by going to a two-for-one taco on Tuesday night. Sickness and health. Better and worse—we’ve seen each other through all of it as friends, rivals, and a couple.
When Erica and Shane slide the wedding bands on each other’s fingers, Mikey’s gaze catches mine and holds steady. My heart flutters, then floats toward his because how could it not? It belongs to him. Always has. Always will.
