Page 15 of When Stars Collide
He groaned. “Great. Now I’m not going to be able to think straight on the ride to Charlie’s.”
“Charlie’s?”
“Yeah, Luke called right before I left to pick you up. He and Elle want to meet up for dinner, if that’s okay.”
“Elle probably wants to discuss wedding bullshit.”
“Wedding bullshit,” he repeated, chuckling. “You’re going to be one bang-up maid of honor.”
“You know what I mean. Elle has probably already made out a to-do list with a corresponding timeline for completion of each and every one of the tasks on it. Basically, my life has already been planned out for me for roughly the next eight months.” Peter took my carry-on bag from me as we approached his car. “I’m going to be up to my ass in satin, tulle, dress fittings, decorations, bridal showers, cakes, wedding photos, speech writing, and …” I paused to accentuate the last part with an exaggerated shiver, “lots and lots of smiling.”
“You’re right, that does sound pretty awful,” he agreed, opening my door for me. “All I have to worry about is my tux fitting and trying not to run away with one of the strippers at Luke’s bachelor party.” He winked at me, shutting my door before I had the chance to respond.
*****
Charlie’s was a quaint sports bar tucked inside of a strip mall on the outskirts of Roanoke. From the license plates on the walls, to the posters depicting local sports teams, and the greasy cheeseburgers the size of dinner plates, it screamed Luke Hutchins.
“Tomorrow’s the big day, right?” Elle asked, shifting in the booth she shared with Luke.“You’re finally going to meet Jackson, the mini Monroe.”
“That bad, huh?” I replied, squeezing Peter’s arm.
“He’s a great kid,” Luke added. “Thankfully, he has his mom’s genes to …” He paused, snapping his fingers together, clearly flustered. “To … uh …”
“To counteract,” Elle added.
“Yes, that.” Luke cast a smile at Elle, finishing his thought. “Jackson has his mom’s genes to counteract Monroe’s less than palatable ones.”
“Whose side are you on, anyway?” Peter interceded.
“The right one.” I shared a half smile with Luke, whose frustration was still evident despite how much he tried to hide it. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting him,” I added. “I even bought him one of those bank robber turtle things. You know, the ones that wear those different colored masks.”
“A Ninja Turtle?” Elle asked, amused.
“Sure. Wait, where the hell would a turtle learn to become a ninja?”
“The same place one would learn how to rob a bank,” Peter chimed in with his two cents as he took a sip of his beer. “In any event, I’m sure Jackson will love it.”
“Bribery, it gets you everywhere.” I raised my glass to Peter, clinking it against his.
“And that’s why you’re going to be an excellent mother one day.” Peter smirked.
It was an innocuous statement, one that if made under normal circumstances, wouldn’t have caused me to so much as bat an eye. But this wasn’t even any semblance of a normal circumstance. This was reality, and as excited as I was at the prospect of having a family of my own someday down the road, the thought of being someone’s mother also terrified me. And with the way Elle was looking at me,abject terror must have been written all over my face.
“So,” she began, blessedly changing the subject, “just the other day, I was thinking how I should get a start on some of the planning for the wedding, and I happened upon this bad boy at a cozy little card shop downtown.”
My eyes widened when Elle reached inside of her purse and pulled out a notebook the size of one of those five-subject monstrosities my mother used to buy for me every school year. Even today, whenever I had the slightest twinge of back pain, I blamed it on the backpack loaded with all the supplies she forced me to carry around like a porter to a palanquin chair. Creating the thud heard around the world—or at the very least, Charlie’s—Elle plunked the notebook down on our table. Unfazed by my lack of shared excitement, she flipped through its pages with a level of giddiness I was certain I would never be able to replicate in my lifetime.
“In the front of the planner, there’s space for you to make a to-do list, which I’ve already started.” She held up the planner, pleased with herself.
“Of course you have.”
“Oh, and the best part, in the back there’s this handy timeline with suggested deadlines for completion of certain tasks based on how far out your wedding date is.”
“A to-do listanda timeline,” I said, stealing a glance at Peter.
“You know,” he began, “Mena was just telling me how pumped she is to get started on everything. She wants to be involved in the entire process and can be at your beck and call morning, noon, and ni—” A sudden meeting of my heeled shoe with his big toe cut his commentary short.
“I’ll bet she was telling you just that,” Luke chimed in, laughing as Peter grimaced in pain.
