The Truth

Okay, that got through the clouds fogging up my brain. Her enthusiasm and pure joy at marrying my brother, Ace Young, of all people, makes me smile, and soon I’m laughing with her. “Well let’s get you married first, and then you can worry about the apple nameplate on your classroom door.”

Harper finishes her current dome and starts on the next. “You’re right, just got distracted. I’m claiming a brain fart!”

“You’re forgiven for a few,” I assure her. “Are you really ready? Only a few days away now.”

Harper takes a moment to answer, laser focused on getting these centerpieces done. It’s actually impressive, the sort of skill that I’m sure she tries to get all her students to mimic.

“Absolutely!” Harper says finally. “We’ve got Ace’s tux ready to go. He had his fitting, and it’s hanging in the closet next to my dress, which is also perfect. Oh, and you’re going to love how cute Kevin’s going to be as the flower dog. Ace has been working with him so much, and he’s doing great. He holds the little basket in his mouth, walks a few steps and shakes it, walks a few more steps and shakes it. Like, I almost want to film him doing it as an ad for Ace’s dog training skills.”

“If Kevin were cute-cute and not ugly-cute, maybe,” I retort, and Harper swats my leg for the insult. But I’m only speaking the truth! “Besides, I’ve seen that demon when he shakes his head. There’s going to be drool mixed in with your rose petals. And splash zone areas for the aisle seats.”

Harper laughs, gluing another length of lace. “He’ll be fine. And adorable.”

I finish up the piece I’m working on and set it aside with the growing pile. “If you say so.”

Harper stops her steady work, looking at me with wide, kind eyes. “I have to thank you, Tiffany. You’ve been such a big help with all the wedding stuff. I really appreciate it. I hope you know that.”

“I’m happy to do it,” I tell her, and I do mean it even if I am tired and a little hormonally bitchy. “But fair warning, once you marry Ace, he’s your problem. No giving him back. Even if he starts insisting that a jar of peanut butter is a perfectly normal thing to store in the nightstand. For easy-access late-night snacks.”

Harper gasps, blushing. “He wouldn’t dare!”

“Oh, he would. He lived on my couch for days on end without showering, eating old pizza out of the box, and only communicating in bro speak with people on his video game team,” I remind her, recalling Ace’s bad days. “It was nearly the death of him by my hand.”

“Well, if he does start to push my buttons too much, I’ll definitely give you a call to help whip him into shape.”

I scoff and pick up another foam dome. “You did that once already, Harper. All I did was kick his ass and keep him afloat. He got better for you, before he even met you, just because he hoped that someone like you existed.”

Tears well up in Harper’s eyes. And oddly, I find answering ones in my own. It has to be the stress and the hormones. I’m not normally this emotive. But I seem to be going all over the place from one second to the next, from worry to excitement to fear to happiness. And for some reason, they all make my eyes leak.

This morning, I even cried at a story on the radio about tacos. Not because it was sad but because I didn’t have one in my hand right that moment. I’d even found a drive-thru, only to remember that it was seven in the morning and they were closed.

This town so needs a 24-hour taco stand.

I wipe my eyes, and Harper gives me a hug. “That is so sweet! Thank you.” She sniffles a bit, wiping at her eyes. “Oh, I don’t want to get the centerpieces wet.”

“Well then, no more mushiness!” I declare in a watery voice, and she laughs softly. We work for a few minutes in sniffle-filled silence until there’s a knock at the door. “Who’s that? You expecting some teacher friends to help with centerpiece assembly?”

Harper gets up to answer the door. “No, that’s what I was trying to tell you before you made me all mushy. I wanted to thank you for everything, and I searched my brain for how to do that. I wanted to get you something meaningful, something you’d appreciate, something to really thank you.”

“Did you get me a stripper?” I ask, surprised. “I mean, I know you said no for the bachelorette party, but I could be in for that. What’d you get? Fireman? Police officer? Big purple dinosaur?”

Harper frowns. “Is that a thing? Dinosaur strippers? Why?”