Jane smiles and leans back, lifting her hands. “I did it. I’m guilty as charged.”
In the time I’ve been looking at my older sister, Marshal has pulled up a chair right next to mine. Within seconds, one of the waitresses is at his side, taking his order and probably giving him her phone number. Once she walks away, I turn and lower my voice. With each word, I lean closer and closer, working to keep his blue orbs in focus. “I thought you were upset.”
“Upset that my best friend found her forever? Never.”
Inhaling, I’m filled with a sense of relief that I hadn’t realized I needed. “Thank you.”
“So am I going to be your man of honor?”
“Do they do that?” Ashley asks.
“I can do whatever I want,” I say. “I’m the bride.”
“What is that show?” Linda asks before answering her own question. “Bridezilla.”
I lean back, feeling Marsh’s arm on the back of my chair and sigh. “I’ve been imagining this feeling my whole life.” I shake my head. “I mean, I have wanted it all, not just forever. I want the friends and career. I want a best friend.” I squeeze Marshal’s knee. “And I want the always.” I look at Jane. “You know, like Mom and Dad. And you and Tony.” I turn to Millie. “You’ll get it one day.”
“I’m not worried.” She smiles at Marshal. “After all, I know of one guy who’s still available.”
My younger sister is probably one of the only women in this bar who has no chance of waking in his bed. My sisters and his brother aren’t part of our understanding; that was for friends. Siblings are totally and completely off-limits. After all, we all grew up together like stair steps: Jane was the oldest, then Marcus, Marshal’s brother, only a few months older than my brother, Byron, and then Marshal and me, and finally Millie.
It would just be weird.
“He’s taken,” I say as everyone looks my way.
When I turn to Marshal, I smile. “Remember, you told me who you’ll end up with?”
“I did?”
“Yeah, right before graduation.”
“Who?” Linda asks.
It’s as if a light bulb illuminates and Marshal’s baby blues open wide. “Sami’s right. There’s only one person in my forever and it’s me.”
“Oh,” comes from everyone.
“It’s okay,” he reassures. “That way I can share my attention with everyone.”
“I’m free,” Linda says with a smirk.
“Nope,” I answer. “Friends are off-limits as well as siblings.”
“So you’re saying as long as I’m friends with you, Marshal is off-limits?”
I know where this is going. “That’s our understanding.”
“Well, Sami,” Linda says, “it’s been nice.”
We all laugh.
As the night goes on, food continues to be delivered to our table. First there were onion rings and then nachos. The last delivery was a large pizza. It wasn’t until we started to disperse that I questioned the tab.
“It’s all taken care of,” Marshal says.
In the past four years, our financial status has improved.
Marshal’s old truck is replaced with a shiny, sleek sports car. My old Camry is now a midsize SUV, and my living arrangement has improved. I have an upscale condo near the river. Marshal also has his own place, high in the sky in a newer building not far from the museum. It’s all the rage with coffee shops, delis, and cafes that serve tofu.
“Let me drive you home,” he says, plucking my key fob from my hand.
“No.” I sway a bit. “I can’t leave my car here.”
“I’ll leave my car. I’ll drive you home and Uber back for my car.” Marshal lifts his chin toward Jane. “I’ll get her home. I promise.”
“Thanks, Marsh.”
I lower my brow and attempt a scowl. “Did she tell you to come because I was drunk?”
“She mentioned you were celebrating and not eating.”
My fist goes to my hip. “Are you, Marshal Michaels, teaming up with Bossy Jane?” It was what we called her when we were kids. Being four years older than us, she felt it was her right to be Mom whenever Mom wasn’t about.
Marshal pulls me close, tucking me against him. “The only Anderson on my team is and will always be you, Samantha Ann.”
I lean back and stare at his blurry profile. “You used my whole name. I’m in trouble.”
“No, you’re not in trouble.”
It isn’t until Marshal has me back in my condo that I ask him what’s been on my mind since he didn’t return my text message. “You don’t like Jack, do you?”
“He’s not my forever. He’s yours.”
I reach out and take Marshal’s hand. “I don’t want to lose you. I still love you.”
“Always and forever?”
I nod. “I just want the other kind of love too. You know the one that takes your breath away and twists your stomach, the one that makes you fall asleep with a smile and wake with one?”
“Honey, if you found that, I will never stand in your way. Just know that whether you’re celebrating your fiftieth anniversary or you need a shoulder, I’m here.”
“I know that. I’m here for you too.”
I slowly fall to my side and close my eyes, thinking of Jackson, of my friends, of my engagement ring, and how he proposed in front of the entire dining room full of patrons at Sheffield’s. My world warms as a blanket comes down over me and firm lips leave a soft kiss on my forehead.
“Do you need an alarm?” Marshal asks.
“My phone—it’s always...”
“Let me know when we’re going bridesmaid-dress shopping.”
I don’t see him with my eyes closed, but my cheeks rise as I curl my lips into a smile, and I drift off to sleep.
Sami
Present
“Oh.” My mom’s hands go to her lips as her eyes glisten. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart. You’re beautiful.”
I loved the dress as I slipped it on in the dressing room, but seeing Mom’s reaction tugs at my heart. I spin toward the three-way mirror.
“Come up on the platform,” the saleslady says as she fluffs the skirt around me. “You look stunning, Sami. Your mom is right.”
I crane my neck over my shoulder, taking in the lace and long line of buttons. The sweetheart neckline does a great job complementing my breasts without emphasizing them. It’s the dress I always imagined, but then I remember the price tag.
“Maybe I should try on some other ones?” I say, pitching slightly from side to side, enjoying the full skirt while taking in the intricate details.
Mom steps up on the podium and wraps her arm around my waist. Her eyes meet mine in the mirror. “Sami, this is your wedding. I know what you’re thinking, but your dad and I have prepared for this since you and your sisters were young. If this is the dress you want, it’s the dress I want you to have.”
I lean my head toward her shoulder.
My parents were married and began having children when they were younger than I am now. Seeing her next to me, it’s easy to understand how we’re mistaken for sisters. My mom is the epitome of understated grace. I grin at her blue jeans and top. Even in her early fifties, she rarely wears much makeup or is excessive about her hair. She and Dad live in the same four-bedroom ranch where they raised four children. They attend the same church and are members of the local Moose Lodge.