Page 84 of Love at Teamsgiving
“Of course. Actually, I, um, was going to do a slide show, but the projector thingy?—”
“My parents have one,” Shane supplies.
“BRB.” Junie grabs my hand and marches me away. At least she doesn’t slap me for forgetting this. Not going to lie, I love it when we hold hands. Always have. Always will. When we’re out of earshot, her hand flies to her forehead. “I totally forgot.”
“Good, because I didn’t even know.”
“How is that good? We have to come up with something. Fast. We can consult Margo. She’ll know what to do.”
But Margo and Erica are deep in conversation, likely about us.
Junie paces, frantic.
Seizing her shoulders, I say, “It’s you and me. We got this. We both know them well. We’ll sing their praises and say what a great couple they make.”
“Okay. You’re right. We can do that. But I thought the parents usually gave the toast.”
“For some reason, they chose us for the job.” I shrug.
“They’re really living on the edge,” she mutters.
I kiss her forehead and say, “For some reason, I think they’ve known what they’re doing all along.”
Junie’s shoulders relax and her breath evens out. She lifts her chin and a slow smile spreads across her full lips and the corners of her eyes crinkle. “Maybe you’re right about that.”
When the guests take their seats, to my relief, Shane’s father says a few words, thanking everyone for joining them to celebrate his son and soon-to-be daughter-in-law, only he changes the wordlawtolove.
Beside me, Junie fidgets.
Assuming she’s nervous even though she gave a rousing speech at the salon opening, in the lowest voice possible, I say, “Trust me, we can do this.”
When we raise our glasses, she continues to shift her dress around.
I find her pinky and squeeze.
When she still keeps fussing with her dress, I’m worried there’s a bug or spider and she’s trying to be polite while Shane’s dad concludes about the importance of sticking together through thick and thin.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m wearing shapewear,” she hisses.
“What?” I ask, not following.
“Think of it as a modern-day corset.”
“Why would you wear that?” I whisper, glancing at her curves and admiring how bomb she looks.
“So I look good in this dress, obviously.”
“You don’t need shapewear to look good. Whether in leggings and a sweatshirt or a gown, you’re perfect.”
At that, she goes still, peeks up at me, and thrusts her shoulders back. “Oh.”
Shane’s mom gushes about how grateful they are that their son found someone so special.
“They’re stealing our thunder,” Junie whispers to me.
“Maybe we’re off the hook.”
