Page 31 of Husband of the Year
“Signature drink?” Lightheadedness joins the spinning in my skull.
“We don’t drink,” Olan says.
“A mocktail then. They’re very in now. Do you want a dry wedding, or are you okay with your guests drinking alcohol? Did you want to give out drink tickets or have an open bar? An open bar will increase the expense considerably, but it’s a game changer. Did you bring your budget? I can whip up a spreadsheet.”
“Budget?” I lean back on Olan, wishing I could crawl inside him and disappear.
“No budget.” Olan wraps his free arm around me and kisses my temple. “Take a deep breath,” he whispers. “People get married every day. This will be fine.”
“No budget. I can make that work.” Sheldon sits up and pulls at his pink and yellow color-block sweater, straightening his shoulders. “We will figure this all out.” There’s more writing. “We can rent chairs… once we know your colors.”
“Sheldon, come here.” Theo grabs him, pulling him away from his notebook and hugging him close. “I know you’re excited, but let’s try not to scare the guys. Relax for a minute.”
“I’m only trying to help,” Sheldon says.
“You are helping but take a breath.” Theo kisses the top of Sheldon’s head. “He’s practicing his wedding planning skills—for ours.”
“When is the big day?” I ask, wondering how someone could possibly plan two weddings simultaneously.
“No date yet. But I’m already collecting ideas.” Sheldon taps his notebook. “And helping you is fantastic experience.”
“And we appreciate your assistance,” Olan says.
“We’ll pay you,” I say.
“No, no. This will be my gift to you.” Sheldon pulls his notebook into his lap and starts petting it softly. “I enjoy it. Plus, it’s like a dry run.” He turns toward Theo and plants a sweet kiss on his cheek. These two couldn’t be more different or more perfect for each other.
“Are you sure?” Olan asks. “We’re more than happy to compensate you for your services.”
“Hush.” Sheldon shakes his head and extends his hand, palm out, fingers upward. “I don’t want to hear any more about it. Now, let’s talk colors.”
We spend another half hour talking about various hues and pigments. We land on blues and browns, which Sheldon approves of. “Very boho-beachy-chic. Ocean. Sand. I love it.”
Theo has another kombucha, but either the amount of alcohol is low or he just has a high tolerance, because he never seems even the slightest bit tipsy. Sheldon concedes that simply landing on colors is a win and we agree to meet again in a week or two. Oy.
On the ferry home, snuggled up in a booth, avoiding the frigid ocean breeze, Olan wraps me in his arms and his strong muscles squeeze me through his wool peacoat.
“That was…” I begin.
“A lot,” he says.
“Yeah. Who knew?” I lean into him, grateful for more contact.
“Apparently, Sheldon.”
We sit quietly, the hum of the ferry surrounding us, and a flickering of lights from the island in the distance summons us home. Isabella and Illona have gone to Boston for a girls’ weekend of shopping and to catch a show. Olan and I have the house to ourselves for the weekend. I’ll see Illona at school Monday morning when she waits in my classroom until the bell rings. The peace of our weekend together rushes into our bubble, creating a serene atmosphere around us—two days of lying naked in bed until Gonzo insists I get up and feed him and then not getting dressed because there aren’t any little eyes around, and then straight back to bed for as long as we like.
“Marvin.”
Like a lullaby, the sound of Olan’s voice makes my eyes grow heavy.
“Mmmh. Wake me up when we dock.”
“Liam is in trouble. My parents are doing their best, but… he needs me. They need me. I need to fly back. Soon.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Soon? How soon? What’s wrong? Do you need me to go with you?”
