Emily Berrigan is a 23 year old transwoman. At 17, she was thrown out by her parents. She hasn't seen her twin Jordan in person in six years, as a result. Her older sister, Stephanie, is engaged. Will sparks fly?

In Chapter 1, we met Emily. In Chapter 2, her (non-binary) twin Jordan. Now, we meet Stephanie, their cishet older sister and the bride-to-be
-----------

Stephanie looked at her phone as she walked out of her office onto Lake Street. 8:30, an early night. Too early for the firm to cover her Uber, but too late to take the train. Every time she’d say that she was going to, Jared would tell her not to, that he’d cover it. Not that she’d take him up on it. She made more money than she ever thought she would and, even with her student loans, she could cover a $15 cab once in a while. She was standing out front when she heard, “Hey, Stef.”

“Oh, hey, Mike,” she said, as she turned to the voice. Mike, a friend from Michigan who was working for an asset management company in the building. “What’s going on? How’s Ariana?” His girlfriend as of the last time they’d seen him.

He laughed. “That’s over.”

“Sorry.”

“I’m not. Early night?” He laughed slightly.

“Yeah, half day.” They looked out at the Chicago River, dark other than the lights on the bridges barely illuminating it. “I hear that’s nice during the day.”

“Wouldn’t know,” he laughed. “You headed home? Wanna split a cab?”

“Sure.” This wasn’t the first time they had gone home together. He was the perfect cab mate, he talked if you did, but otherwise didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. They got a cab and he climbed in first. “Any plans for the weekend?”

Mike shrugged. “Maybe a party in Lakeview. Friend of a friend. You?”

“Jared’s cousin got engaged. We have the party out in Northbrook.”

“Lucky you,” he said. “Weekend with the in-laws.”

“They’re not my in-laws,” she laughed. They’ll be eventually, she thought, not that she was in a rush. She and Jared were fine the way they were, living together. Besides, they both worked crazy hours, so it wasn’t like a ring would change anything, not that mom and dad saw it that way.

“Yeah, OK, sure.” And he went back to staring out the window, which was fine by her.

Her phone buzzed. Mom. At least, she had finally learned not to call during work hours, before 8:00 PM. She was an administrator for a law firm, you’d think she’d get it, except it wasn’t a real firm. They did closings and wills and some litigation, with an office in a house in Dekalb. She had shown mom and dad her office once and they couldn’t stop talking about the view. She stared at the phone and sighed. “I’m in a cab with Mike, I’ll call you back. I promise,” and she hung up.

Mike laughed without looking at her. “How’s your mom?”

“Annoying,” she laughed. “Yours?”

“In New Jersey, thank god.”

And then the conversation stopped again, until they pulled up to her place. “I’ve got this,” he said, taking out his wallet.

She grimaced. “No, I said we’d split.”

He looked at her and then the cabbie. “You both should invest. There, now, I can expense it. Next time, you pay, Stef,” he said, as he put away his wallet. “Say hi to Jared for me,” he said, as he walked away.

She looked at her phone. If she went upstairs and Jared was there, he’d roll his eyes during the call, which was irritating. But the day had been long enough. If she called her from down here, she’d wouldn’t be upstairs for another half an hour.

Two minutes later, she was upstairs, no Jared, which was good. She put her shoes by the door, joining the pile there, and then pulled her bra out of her sleeve. She sniffed it and hung it on the door of the bedroom, so she could wear it another day.

She put the phone on speaker and called. Second ring, “Hey, Steffie.”

“Hey, ma.”

“How’s Mike?” Her dad had met Mike once in Ann Arbor and said his hands were too soft. Her mom said that the goal was to not have hands like sandpaper (‘not everyone likes callouses, Doug.’)

“He’s fine. Hands are still baby soft, I think he moisturizes them.”

“Funny, sweetie,” she laughed. “How’s Jared? Hi Jared.”

“He’s not here. They probably went out after work.” Jared was a utilities trader, and one of things they did was go out drinking, not that Jared was a drinker. She’d never seen him have more than two, and he usually left part of the second.

“You don’t know where he is?”

“I trust him, ma.”

“I didn’t say that.” No, you just suggest it every time I don’t say that I have an ankle bracelet on him. “I trust your father, but I still know where he is.”

“Yeah, so, what's up?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to see how you were doing. Randy,” her boss, “asked how you were doing.”

I went deep into debt so I could put together deal packages. “I'm good. Say hi.”

“Grandma and Grandpa were glad you came to the game.”

Drily, “Somehow I doubt that.”

Her mom laughed. “Well, I was happy you came. You know that I can't stand the rest of them.”

Stef laid back on the bed and looked at the ceiling. She knew this already and her mom knew she knew this. But, if she was complaining about them, she wasn't nagging her and she could basically tune her out, offering token ‘uh huhs.’

Until it came to, “I don't like how your sister looks.”

It took her a second. Emmy was her sister. “What's wrong? They looked good to me.” She could hear her wince. “What?” Jordan, she was talking about Jordan.

“I understand that she, they is, are a lesbian and I'm perfectly fine with that,” which is why you always mention it, “but she looks horrible. That haircut, for one.”

She sighed. “I'm not doing this again. Can we go back to complaining about Grandma and them?”

“I'm concerned.”

Another sigh. “About? They seem fine to me.” She almost mentioned the new girl, but Jordan would rightfully kill her.

“You and your father seem to think that.” Good, now we could segue into Dad, she thought. She put the phone on her dresser as she got undressed, throwing her shirt into the cleaning pile and hanging up her suit, her mother keeping up a steady stream of patter.

She put on one of Jared's old t-shirts, “so why doesn't he do what Uncle Rob did and go out on his own?” Uncle Rob was the youngest of Dad’s three brothers, Dad being second youngest. From the whispered grumbling, he was doing really well.

“We don't have that luxury right now, Stephanie,” she said flatly. “As much as I'd like that.”

“You're not paying for school. Jordan and I are self-supporting,” you won't even say her name, not for six years, “why not now?”

“We don't have Rob’s connections. Some of us didn't get to leave home for college, you know.” Rob, alone among the four Nehlen brothers, had gone away to college, Notre Dame, no less, a fact that always bothered Dad.

She gave the phone the finger. “I just meant that he's miserable, you're not happy…”

“I didn't call for advice,” she huffed.

Eyes rolling, “You called me.”

“To see how you were.” No one could turn on a dime like mom.

“Ok, ma. Sorry.” Like listening to mom and grandma Linda. She heard the lock turn. “Jared just came home. Let me sniff him for perfume.”

“Very funny, Stef. I love you.”

“I love you too. Dad too.”

Jared walked in, untying his tie and carefully putting his shoes by the door. She took him in. 6’2”, 195, brown hair, blue eyes. Not someone everyone would turn around for, but good looking enough and, more importantly, good where it counted. He came over and kissed her on the lips. “Hey, baby.”

“Hey, sweetie,” she said. “How was your day?”

“Good, I guess,” he said, as he walked into the bedroom.

“That didn't sound promising.” She watched as he unbuttoned his shirt and threw it on the dry cleaning pile. She went and put it in the cleaning bag.

“Market went crazy. We had a down day... Nothing unusual.”

“It'll be up tomorrow.”

“Probably,” he laughed. “But all that matters is today, you know how it goes. How was your day?” A question dad never asked.

“Another day in paradise. Today, I put together resolutions. I know, I know. Ma’nishtana.” Jared had taught her that the first time she met his family. From Passover - ‘why is this night different from all other nights?’ She didn’t meet them then but it was the all purpose Gauss family response. “Mike says hi.”

“How’s Mike and what’s her name?” He laughed. “I know I should know it.”

“Doesn’t matter. She’s” and she jerked her thumb behind her. “We should just call them Bic lighters.”

He laughed. “Street umbrellas.”

She thought for a second. “Carnival goldfish. Small, cute, and dead before they hit the bowl. Mike’ll like that. Anyway, you hungry?” She wasn’t but felt compelled to ask, to be the good girlfriend.

“We ate shit at the bar,” he said. “Sorry.”

“No biggie. I wasn’t really that hungry anyway. I’ll eat some cheese and crackers or something. When’s the thing on Saturday?”

“You don’t know?” He picked up last night’s t-shirt off the bed, sniffed it and put it on.

And so it began. She was supposed to be the keeper of the calendar, buyer of food and cleaner of clothes. She didn’t sign on for this, it wasn’t going to happen. Then, this really isn’t a big deal, she thought. And I have a phone, where his aunt sent the invite. She looked at it. “2:00. How long do we have to stay?”

He looked at her. “Do we have plans or something?”

And she felt herself tense. “No. I just wanted to try that new place, the Mexican one.”

He came over and kissed her again. “We don’t have to stay that long, if you don’t want. Couple of hours. Come on, it’s Nicki, you like her.” She did. She was one of those funny, low maintenance Jewish girls, not like the ones from Long Island from freshman year. Always good for comments about her various relatives, and she liked her fiance. “Besides, I don’t want to listen to everyone ask us either.”

Yeah, she thought. Try being the girl. “Whatever. We’ll stay as long as we stay,” three hours, at least, she knew.

He laughed. “That’s the spirit!”

----
Saturday afternoon.

Stephanie stood in front of the mirror, playing with her dress; having chosen her powder blue one with the little flowers. She made minute adjustments to the hem, which fell a couple of inches above her knee. Cute, but not something that would draw attention. Today was about Nicki and, besides, the last thing she needed was his aunts saying something. They already had enough ideas - wrong ones, but ideas nonetheless - about her, they didn’t need ammunition. She went into the living room, where Jared was mindlessly watching TV. She picked up her purse, “Ready?”

“You look amazing, honey,” he said, grinning (‘we broke him in for you,’ his sisters joked).

“Thank you,” she said, as he stood up, and she adjusted his shirt, blousing it out from his pants.

Forty-five minutes later, they were driving through Northbrook, where his aunt lived. And his parents. And his grandparents, not that she was one to talk. She watched as the houses went past. Not that it looked all that different from Dekalb, her hometown, it was Illinois, it was flat, but still she looked. When she started at U of M, she remembered listening to the girls from here and Scarsdale and Bloomfield Hills, about their new cars and the trips and talking about ‘where they applied to college.’ Michigan was her one out of state school.

“Let’s do this,” she said, swinging her legs out from the car, not that anyone was watching. She remembered that first trip out to California, the way Emmy did it naturally, like she had been born to it and smiled to herself.

They walked in, and were greeted by Jared’s oldest sister, Jamie. “Hey, sweetie,” she said, giving Stephanie a kiss. “How’s everything? How’s McDermott these days?” Jamie was in-house for Jones Lang LaSalle, having, ‘gotten out of firm life as fast as possible.’

“Sucks,” she laughed, shrugging.

“Do your time and you’ll get out. Besides, just bank the cash. Let this one,” and she poked Jared, “pay for shit.”

Jared promptly rolled his eyes and ignored her, and they began walking through, greeting everyone. They found his grandmother leaning against the fireplace, ignoring one of his cousins. Stephanie took her in, all 5’3” and 140 lbs of her, in a beautiful blue blouse and white linen pants, and she thought back to the Cubs game with her grandparents. “Hey, Grandma,” Jared said, giving her a kiss. “What’s up?”

“Charles is annoying, but you knew that,” she laughed. “How are you two?” Turning to Stephanie, “How’s work? Do they still have you locked up doing garbage work?” Before Stephanie could answer, “more importantly, are the male,” the word dripping, “associates doing the same thing?”

“Yes, Gloria, they treat us all the same. Like dogs,” remembering her dad’s favorite Vince Lombardi quote.

She grinned, then her eyes narrowed. “Don’t let them. We all worked too hard for that.” Before she had met her the first time, Jared told her to expect this (‘grandma was like hardcore feminist, surprised she didn’t kill my dad.’), but still she was surprised.

“I know, Gloria.” The first time she met her, she called her ‘Dr. Gauss,’ since she was a sociology professor at UIC, which got a smile and a nod to Jared, and ‘call me Gloria.’ “I'm doing the best I can.”

“Good,” then looking at Jared, “go find your mother. She was looking for you.”

Stephanie walked through the house, looking at the art on the walls, the books on the shelves. She remembered the first time she came here and the way that his aunt Michelle had tried to explain the art to her in front of everyone.

---
“I can see the influence of Rothko,” Stef had said, to everyone's shock, and Jamie's amusement, “but it's really got more of a,” yard sale, “Robert Motherwell feeling,” you pretentious bitch. Yes, the little Catholic hick from Dekalb knows about art. Not that her family owned any or went to museums, that being reserved for school trips.

“They bought that shit at some charity auction,” Jared had laughed in the car on the way back, while she vented. “And that was only to show off. I guarantee you that they haven't been in the Art Institute in twenty years at least.”
---
Stef wandered through the house, saying hi to his various relatives, feeling their eyes burn a hole through her.

She wandered into the kitchen, where his aunt was busy directing the caterers. “Hey, Michelle.”

“Oh, hello, Stephanie,” she said, then telling a waitress to take the spanakopita out to the patio (‘look for a gray haired man in a sweater,’ her father, ‘first.’) “I'm sorry, I'm a little crazy as you can imagine.”

Stef smiled. “I just came in to say mazel tov.” Jared taught her the pronunciation before his cousin's bat mitzvah.

“Thank you,” and she gave her a kiss, while mentally deconstructing her. I made law review, she thought. You were selling makeup at Neiman’s when you met Dan. Just saying. At least, she was spared the inevitable ‘what about you two,’ Michelle having made her feelings clear.

Eventually, she found Nicki, in her pink sleeveless dress, surrounded by her friends. “Hey, Nicki,” she said, grinning. “Congratulations.”

She gave her a big hug. “I'm so glad you're here,” seeming sincere.

Stef laughed. “Lemme see.”

Nicki thrust her hand out dramatically. “If you insist.”

Stef looked at it. Probably two and half carats, square cut. “Very nice. Good job, Jake,” she said, kissing Nicki's fiance on the cheek.

Jake looked at Jared. “I have a guy,” he joked. “He'll hook you up.”

Jared gripped Stef's hand. They had discussed it, sort of, agreeing that it would happen. Eventually. Jared looked at him. “But you're taken, Jake.”

Nicki smiled, her easy smile, “That's right,” and she put her arm around his waist, “he is. Besides, you two would be terrible together. Jared could not deal with your neatness.” She turned to her friends. “Jake is an absolute neat freak.”

Stef watched them with detachment. Even after all these years, they were a foreign country to her, the way they joked and congratulated each other on successes and made efforts to see each other besides holidays. Not that her family wasn't supportive, she remembered the way Aunt Jackie made sure to send her care packages throughout college and law school, but this was something else. “Jews talk,” was all Jackie said.

Eventually, Nicki's dad stood next to her, his arm around her, holding his glass of champagne aloft. He thanked everyone and said, “I just want to say,” and his voice caught, “how happy I am that Nicki and Jake have found each other and how happy we are to have him in the family.” Nope, dad wouldn't say that, not that he disliked Jared. “And it seems like just yesterday, we were bringing Nicki home from the hospital.”

Nicki, “Daddy,” drawing it out. “You're embarrassing me,” as she ate it up.

He grinned, pulling her closer, “Just wait until the wedding.” Words never uttered in Nehlen land. She tried to remember Cat's wedding, if Uncle Kevin even said anything. He just showed his love in a new kitchen when she and Matt bought a house.
--
“Did you have a good time?” Jared asked, as she buckled her seatbelt after the party. Unlike her family, no one was drunk.

Jared always asked that whenever they saw his extended family, she realized. Trust me, she wanted to say, if I didn’t, you’d know. Then again, she never asked that in reverse, knowing the answer. He hated her family. Well, hate was harsh. But she noticed the way he’d always find a reason to go to the bathroom or offer to wash dishes (‘I don’t mind helping’), a fact that did not go unremarked on, not that she blamed him. “I did,” she smiled. “You don’t always need to ask. I like your family."

“They like you too.”

She laughed. “They should. I’m extremely likable.” Jared started driving, and she stared out the window. She watched a kid wash his new Jeep, lovingly cleaning the tires with a brush. Not that she got a new car or even expected one (‘getting your driver’s license means you’re first learning to drive,’ her dad joked. ‘A new car may as well as be a loaded gun’), even though Jordan got the truck when they turned sixteen.

Jared pulled into the lot of what looked like a junior high school. “Something wrong with the car?” Her father’s daughter, she could tell when she was driving if something was off, but she wasn’t, thank God, him, able to diagnose it from the passenger side. Let Jordan do that, she’d laugh to herself.

Jared looked around nervously. “Nah, this is my old junior high school.”

She wanted to get back to the apartment, to go to dinner, not go on a trip down memory lane. “OK?” Trying to hide her frustration.

“Can we walk around a little bit?”

“You know, we’ve been here how many times and you’ve never shown me this.”

“Well, I want to now, OK?” His eyes darted around.

Sighing, she unbuckled her seat bet. She got out of the car and looked around at the nondescript 1970s squat brick structure and wondered. He wasn’t breaking up with her, that much was clear. If you are, she thought, you could’ve saved me the trip. Besides, she was out of his league, he’d joke. And she was, except she had dated enough guys in her league to know that they were assholes. Jared was like dad in that way, he appreciated what he had. She smoothed her skirt and laughed. “You wanna go down memory lane, babe, fine.”

They walked around the building and she pictured seventh grade Jared, all curly mop and braces, walking in with his weird friend Alex. Twice a year, they’d go to dinner with him - he was an oncology fellow at Rush and barely had time to breathe. He wasn’t a bad guy and was impressed that she had ‘done that research project in high school’ (finalist in Intel, thanks), but still he’d look at her like he was waiting for her to mock him, like there were two football players waiting outside to kick his ass. She'd laugh to herself, thinking that we wouldn't have noticed you enough to care about you, much less beat you up.

He went out back to the football field and stood at the bleachers. “You know this is where I kissed my first girl. Kayla Gelb.”

“Cool.” She remembered her first time, Tommy Robredo at Kate’s ‘boy-girl party’ in sixth grade. She could still taste the drool on her lips.

And then - he dropped to one knee and reached into his pocket. “And I want it to be where I kiss my last girl,” and he grinned, looking right at her. “Stephanie Nehlen, will you marry me,” and he opened the box. Inside was a ring, emerald cut, at least three carats. She felt herself tearing up, dammit. This wasn't in the plan, the bastard. She nodded, unable to speak. “Is that a yes?”

She threw her arms around him and kissed him, hard. “Yes,” she coughed out. “Yes, yes, yes,” and they kissed again. “Yes.”

“You’ve made me the happiest man in the world. And I’m going to make you the happiest woman.”

She wiped her tears. “You better.”

She could see tears in the corners of his eyes. “I will. I promise,” and he slipped the ring on her finger. “Do you like it?”

“It’s gorgeous,” and she stared down at it. She was never one of those girls, except now she was.

“It’s my grandma’s,” he said proudly.

“I hope she doesn’t realize it’s missing,” she joked.

He laughed. “Oh shit, don't wear it around her. No, she gave it to me when I told her I was proposing to you.”

“You told her? Wow, she’s good. She didn’t let on or anything today.” All they talked about was work - and how she thought Nicki was selling herself short.

“Nah, she’s good. That’s why I hated playing cards with her when I was a kid. You really like it?”

“Yes, it’s gorgeous. I can’t wait to tell everyone.” She took out her phone and snapped a picture of her hand. She started typing and then hit send.

Two seconds later, “Hi, mom. Yes, he did. No, I just kept the ring. I know it’s beautiful. It’s his grandma’s. Please don’t go there, mom. I dunno, he just proposed like five minutes ago,” then, “hi dad. Yes, I said yes. I know you do. I love you too. I can’t wait to see you guys either. Love you.” Jared stood there laughing at her and she gave him the finger.

“They’re excited?”

“Yes,” she laughed. “Very.”

“What don’t you know?”

“Where we’re getting married. When. That kind of stuff.”

“Wherever you want. Whenever.”

“No,” she said, resolving not to be one of those brides, “we decide together.”

Jared laughed, “Sure.”

“I'm serious,” she said, poking him. “We do this together.”

“Sure, right,” he kept laughing, as she kept tickling him. “I'll pick a place, you'll say no. You'll pick a place, I'll say no and then you'll win,” he said, tickling her back. “I'm not stupid.”

She squirmed, giggling. “Yes, you are.”

More kissing her with big wet smacking noises. “I'm not, I know how this is going to work.”

She pulled away, feeling flush, out of breath and weirdly alive, “You're not leaving me to do this with her.”

He kissed her, seriously this time. “I won't. It's you and me.”

You and me, she thought. Damn.

---
Across the country, a phone pinged. What appeared was a picture of a left hand, on the ring finger of which sat a huge ring.

“OMG,” appeared on screen, then the phone rang. “Oh my God!!! Is that what I think it is?”

Stef smiled, Emmy, her little sister, was the human emoji, all smiles and hearts. “Mmm hmm, Emmy.”

The enthusiasm bubbled up. “I am so so so happy for you guys. That is so so so amazing.” She pictured her, her ponytail bobbing while she bounced in her seat. “Are you excited?”

“No, I said yes because I'm apathetic.”

“Shut UP!”

“Yes, I'm excited,” she laughed. “So you're going to be a bridesmaid…” She remembered how excited, nervous Emmy was that first time she put on Jordan's junior bridesmaid's dress, the way she kept turning this way and that. How cute she looked when she put on lip gloss and blush. The way that Jordan caught them and said only, “I thought mom said no makeup until you’re 15,” and walked out.

“Oh my gosh, for real?”

“Of course, for real. You're my sister,” she laughed. “It's you and Jamie and Brooke,” Jared's younger sister, in her first year at film school at USC, she and Emmy both in LA; she made a note to tell Jared to have them meet finally, “and Arden,” her best friend from college, “will be maid of honor.” Realizing how that sounded, “That doesn't bother you, right?”

Emmy, laughing, “Please, no, Steffie. It should totally be Arden. She's like your sister too.”

“You sure?”

Teasing, “So long as you didn't tell her first.”

Steffie looked at Jared, who was driving and grinning, “Of course not,” she lied, sort of. She had texted Arden, who was probably doing rounds at the hospital, but she hadn't heard back, so Emmy was the first to congratulate her. And it wasn't a competition. Arden was Arden and Emmy was Emmy. Two sides of the coin. “Of course not, you're my little sister. Anyway, we're on the way back from Nicki’s thing, so I'll call you later.”

“Emily's excited, I take it,” Jared laughed.

She started bouncing around in her seat, then smiled, thinking of how excited she'd be at the first dress fitting, how she’d keep staring at her reflection, how mom would joke and call her Tigger, like when she was little…”oh…”

“What?” Jared asked. “What's wrong?”

Jared knew about Emily. She had told him early on. If a guy was going to get freaked out, she wasn't going to waste time. Emmy was her sister and, if a birth certificate was a problem, so be it. “Mom…”

“Oh yeah…”

Then, “I don't care. Emily's my sister and she's going to be in the wedding,” girding for the fight.

“Works for me,” he said, then, “thanks for having Jamie and Brooke.”

“They're your sisters, of course I'm having them.”

“Your mom won't be upset that it's not Stace and Mia?” Jackie’s daughters.

“I'm not having sixteen bridesmaids. Unless it's a royal wedding, that's just tacky,” she laughed.

He rolled his eyes. “You're my princess.”

She thought about how his grandmother would lose her shit at that, how she didn't allow princess stuff in her house, how his mom joked about hiding it when she came over. She mock-removed the ring. “Pull over. Let me out.”

“Nope. Princess Stephanie, I like the sound of that,” he teased. “King Jared and Princess Stephanie, sounds good.”

“Oh fuck you,” she laughed, “more like Queen Stephanie and her consort.”

“Can I consort with you,” and he put his hand on her thigh, massaging it.

“You're cheating,” she laughed, as she squirmed. “No fair.”

He moved his hand up. “Email the no fair office. Just say yes.”

“Keep doing that,” she commanded. “Fine, you can consort with me, if you must.”

Just then, her phone rang. “Hi, Aunt Jackie,” mom’s sister, “I don't know, we've been engaged for like five minutes... No, definitely not in Dekalb... Well, let her know you agree...yeah, thanks... I'll send you a picture... We're in the car... Love you too.” to Jared, “This better stop tonight,” then, “let's see if any of them call.” Them being dad's family. Jared sighed and she continued, “Sorry, you're right,” and she stared at her finger. “Your grandpa had good taste.”

“He did. You'd hardly know it was zircon.”

She looked at him. “You know I don't care, right?” She knew what some of his family thought of her, that she was marrying him for money. Yeah, she'd think, take a look at my W-2 and then yours, and we'll see.

“I know. That's one of the reasons I love you. But it isn't. It's legit.”

She laughed, “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

---
Later that night, she was on the phone with Arden, friends since the first week of freshman year when Arden held her hair after a frat party. “Am I making a mistake?” The mistake being asking Emily to come East for the wedding.

Arden, yawning after a long shift. “No, absolutely not. She's your sister.”

“Yeah, but…”

“No buts,” Arden said. “She's your little sister. How could you not?”

Stef got up to stretch her legs, looking at the picture in the corner of the mirror, Arden, Emily and her at a football game in Ann Arbor, the first time Em went out as herself. Her face was a little more angular, the hair a little too short but the silly look, the smile was Em. “I'm afraid,” the first time she'd said that out loud.

“I get it, but if she doesn't want to, she'll let you know.”

Stef knew she wouldn't, Em was a people pleaser, no matter what. “I just don't want her to have any problems,” she sighed.

“She's a grown woman. She can handle herself, Stef.” Stef smiled, Arden the first to call her by the right pronoun.

“I know,” she exhaled. “I just worry.”

“You're a good big sister,” she placated her, “you always were,” then, “I still can't believe you're getting married.”

“Me either. Do you remember that girl senior year, what's her name?” And they went off on a girl who bragged about getting ‘her ring before spring,’ like it was the 50s or something, while Arden said, under her breath, ‘I'm gonna have an MD before an MRS.’

“Oooh,” Arden said, “maybe you can call her. Get some tips.”

“Oh, fuck you, Arden.” She was grinning from ear to ear.

“Not unless you buy me a rock like that.”

“Oh fuck no. You know how much I did for that? Put out then we’ll talk rings.”

“Nah, the bicoastal thing would never work for me. Or,” and Stef began giggling, preemptively, “the bi other thing.” In college, some Fiji asshole had tried to spread a rumor that she and Arden were lesbians, like it was a big deal. Yeah, well, it was - the disciplinary hearing got him on probation.
--
Monday morning, Stef was sitting in her office reviewing some prospectus, making sure that one set of rich people could cheat some other rich people, when her phone rang. “I’m at work, ma.”

“Hello to you too,” her mother said, faux-brightly. “So as we were discussing…”

We weren’t discussing anything, you were. I was looking at my phone. “Still at work, ma.”

“I just wanted to discuss some things with you.”

Arden’s ‘humor her’ in her ears, she moaned, “You get ten minutes. Sorry, but time is money. You know that.”

“It won’t take more than that.” Stef set the timer on her phone, mentally betting how far over she’d go.

“OK. Fine...what were we discussing?”

“Kaia…” Her cousin’s five year old daughter. The flower girl. To be. The flower girl to be. Named for the daughter of Cindy Crawford, the pride of Dekalb. Stef wondered how many Kaias were in her class.

“What about her?”

“Your grandmother’s very upset,” she sighed.

“Since when do you care about what she thinks?” She was now referred to only by the spat pronouns ‘she’ and ‘her.’

“I don’t, but she gave your father an earful and then gossiped to them.”

She looked at the clock. 9:20 seconds left. Did she miss getting on an elliptical machine? “Jesus, ma. So because they can’t keep their noses out of things, I have to have that little brat in my wedding? Besides, I don’t even know if I want a flower girl.”

“Of course, you do. We’ve covered this. You were in Rob and Jeannie’s wedding. You were adorable.”

Stef laughed, in spite of herself. “I’m cuter and was better behaved.”

A laugh, “Nonetheless, if you’re not going to have any of your cousins in the wedding, you need to give something.”

“Are any of them paying for this,” she scoffed, “because otherwise I don’t have to give anything.”

“Stephanie, don’t be like them,” her trump card. “She’s a little girl. Don’t blame her for her parents.”

“They blame me,” she said, a tinge of defensiveness in her voice. “They always have.”

“Who cares what they think?”

Stef, playing with a pen on her desk, balancing it on its point and trying to catch it before it fell. Shit. “You do. You brought it up.”

“I don’t care what they think. Your father does and I care about him, so ipso facto, I care about this…”

“Do the lawyers in your office actually say ‘ipso facto?’” She imagined the gales of laughter that would happen if someone said that here.

“Only Gerald,” the 80 year old semi-retired founding partner. “Nonetheless, that’s what marriage is...”

6:30. Was she on a glacier? “Putting up with shi,” and then she remembered how much her mother hated when she cursed, saying that ‘your sister does that,’ “stuff that neither one of you wants to placate some people neither of you can stand? Maybe, I won’t get married.”

Her mother laughed loudly. “No, it’s about caring about what your husband thinks.”

“If I say I’ll think about it - seriously think about it - can we get off the phone? I have work to do and talking about some brat being in my wedding when I’ve been engaged for two days seems counterproductive, no?”

“What did his aunt,” Michelle’s name never said, like Voldemort, “have to say?”

She sighed, remembering a Hanukkah party at Michelle and Dan’s house, Michelle repeatedly telling people how ‘they’re the first people I’ve ever met from Dekalb, I think.’ “Not going there, ma.”

“I’m sure she’s thrilled that you have his grandmother’s ring.” (‘She was following me around like I was going to take the silverware. Which is cheap junk from the outlets.’)

She held the phone to her keyboard and hit the keys. “Oh, I just checked the tickets for ‘there’. Aw, all sold out. So we’re not going. Maybe next time.” Then, she hit backspace to delete ‘drbnfkxtq.’

“I was just saying…”

Stef snapped. “Mom, I don’t care what anyone thinks - them, grandma, Jared’s family, no one. This is my wedding. We will have the wedding I want to have when I want to have it and where I want to have it with whomever I want to be in it. Period.” She hadn’t told her yet about Emily. “Understood?”

She could hear her teeth grit. “I’m not going to be lectured by you, Stephanie.”

She sighed, as the pen fell and rolled off her desk under the chair. She’d have to maneuver her chair just so to not crush it. “I’m not lecturing. And it’s not me against you,” a pause, “it’s us against them.”

A laugh. “I’m not letting you off that easily.”

She got up and moved her chair back, crushing the pen. Shit. “I’m sure you aren’t.”

“Can I tell her that Kaia will be in it?”

“Tell her that we haven’t decided if it’s a day or evening wedding,” because we’ve been engaged for TWO DAYS and they need lives, “but if it is, I will definitely consider her for the job.”

“With that, counselor,” she laughed. “I love you, have a good day.”

“Love you too, ma,” she sighed.

Twelve hours later, her boss called her into his office. “Everything OK?” she said, as she knocked.

Without looking up, he said, “I hear congratulations are in order.”

She could feel the love emanating from him. “Thanks.”

He looked up for a second and smiled. “Seriously, congrats. They tell you the secret of a good marriage is listening. It isn’t. The secret of a good marriage is not listening. Pay attention to no more than ten percent of what he says and you’ll be fine.”

She laughed. “I thought it was ‘never go to bed angry’,” something someone had said at Cat’s wedding.

He laughed. “Then, no one here would ever get married. Or sleep. Anyway, knock off for the night. Go see your betrothed,” the last word said with all due sarcasm.

---
She got on the el, making sure to turn her ring inward. She pulled out her phone and began flicking through TMZ, Twitter, anything mindless to keep herself occupied.

A message popped up. ‘Congrats,’ from Jordan. Jordan was working in Indianapolis as a construction manager, the lone sibling to go anywhere near anything resembling the family business, even if they were five hours away working for another company.

She remembered how excited Jordan used to get when Dad would take them to a job site, how much they didn’t shut up when Dad let them haul nails to the crew. She typed back, ‘wow it took you two days thx’

A middle finger emoji, followed by ‘r u married yet if not be quiet’ then ‘srsly congrats thats great I like Jared’

‘Thx He likes u 2’ then, ‘hows Kira,’ followed by heart emojis

‘Fuh Q’ followed by laughing emojis, then ‘I try 2 be nice and this is what I get’

‘Sorry couldnt resist,’ then ‘I wont say anything anymore’

‘Shes good were good its good’

‘Are we a we yet’

‘Well see,’ followed by a shrug emoji, the man one. Hmmm. ‘Were good right now later is later,’ which was pure Jordan, then ‘where r u’

‘El going home’

‘U shouldnt be on train this late’

She smiled. If you had asked her when they were kids, the idea that Jordan would not be actively trying to get her killed or at least hurt would have been unfathomable. ‘Thx Jared’

‘I care about u PITA,’ family slang for ‘pain in the ass.’ Which made ordering every trip to the Middle Eastern restaurant amusing. ‘I dont want u hurt’

‘Awww,’ then, ‘u just dont want to have to deal w them alone’

‘Duh’

‘My stop next love u say hi to Kira’

‘Love u 2’ and ‘im ignoring you’

She put away her phone and smiled.

--
They were on their way to Dekalb, the satellite radio tuned to ‘90s on 9,’ Jared, singing along to “You Get What You Give,” his fascination with oldies befuddling her. She looked out the window at the bleak expanse of I-88, the other cars, the personal injury billboards, the nothingness flying past her at 80 miles an hour. The song ended and he asked, “Are they going to be there?”

She raised her arm and watched her bangle bracelet slide, then lowered it and watched it slide back. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. She,” probably, “wouldn’t do that to us.”

“Not that I don’t love your family,” convincing, especially as his knuckles turned white on the wheel.

She laughed, “You don’t always have to say that. You know that I hate your aunt.”

“Yes,” he smiled, “but I’m nicer than you.”

She smirked. “That’s like being the world’s second tallest midget, Jar. I’m a bitch,” then, teasing, “seriously, why would you want to be married to me?”

Without looking at her, “Oh, that’s easy. You’re really hot.”

She looked down at herself. 5’7”, 36 Cs, 25 inch waist. Great legs, if you believed the stares she got on the street. “Oh. That makes sense,” she said. “You know why I’m with you?”

He laughed. “My huge dick?”

She held two fingers close together. “Mmm, nope.”

“My winning personality?” His hands now relaxed.

“If that’s winning, I’d hate to see losing.” And she turned the channel to Z-100 from New York, making Jared grimace. “Try again.”

“I have no idea,” he laughed.

“Because,” she said, leaning over to give him a kiss on the cheek, “I love you. Because you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He looked confused. “I’m serious.”

He smiled. “Oh, OK. That seems like a good reason,” and she punched him. “Hey!”

“I love you too,” then, “we had to do this, right?”

“Yes,” she groaned. “We had to. They’re my parents.”

They pulled up, mom’s car and dad’s F-350 in the driveway, her old cheerleading trampoline rusting in the backyard, Jordan’s basketball hoop, with a fresh net, like a dog waiting hopelessly by the window for its master. Jared made jazz hands, “Showtime,” and got out of the car.

Stef opened the door and looked at the pictures in the hall. Stef in her cheerleading outfit, Jordan in their basketball uniform, graduation shots, her dad with his arm around her at the football game. She remembered the family shots that used to be here, her mom wrestling Jordan into a dress, Emmy looking miserable in a shirt and tie, then everyone all cheesy grins.

“We’re here,” she yelled.

Her dad came out first, in his polo shirt and jeans. “Hey, Steffie,” he said, drawing her into him. He wasn’t tall, 5’11”, but years on site had given him first muscles, and now, as a supervisor, pure bulk. Not fat, although he could lose 15 pounds, just heft like a tugboat.

She kissed him on the cheek. “Hey, Daddy. Look,” she said, theatrically waving her hand in his face.

He smiled. “You got a manicure?”

“Very funny,” and she rolled her eyes.

He took her hand. “Look at that,” he said, smiling, then wordlessly hugging her again.

He looked at Jared, “I would’ve liked for you to ask me for her hand before you did it.” You could see the beads of sweat forming on Jared’s forehead, and her dad laughed, “because I would’ve told you that you have to take the whole thing. Daughter parts aren’t worth anything on the market.” He stuck out his hand, “Congratulations you two.” She watched her dad’s eyes just to make sure Jared shook correctly.

Her mom came out of the kitchen, and gave Jared a big hug and kiss. “Congratulations! Welcome to the family!” She watched her father and Jared both tense up, each not eyeballing the other.

Jared gave her another kiss. “Thanks, Laura.”

Her mother took her hand. “This is beautiful, Jared. This was your grandmother’s,” a look passing from her mother to her father, who slumped ever so slightly.

“Um, yeah. When I told her I wanted to propose, she told me to take it. Well, I mean she was kinda drunk at the time.” Stef tensed as another look passed between her parents and she looked at Jared, who was getting flop sweat. “Yeah, no, seriously, she really wanted Stef to have it. She said that grandpa would’ve wanted that. Anyway, I hope you know that I love Stef more than anything and would do anything to make sure she’s always happy.”

What the fuck, she thought. Where is this coming from? Her mother smiled, “I know, Jared. That’s beautiful.”

Her father smiled and looked at her. Then, “Always? Good luck to you, buddy,” which made Stef hit him in the back of the head. Chastened, sort of, “That’s your job. Keep my little girl happy,” and she’d swear she saw a tear in his eye. Then, “who wants a drink? Beer, Jared?” A test that Jared had been passing for the past year or so.

“Umm, sure,” Jared, dreading Old Style (‘my last experience with that involved me facing the bottom of a garbage can’) and breathing a sigh of relief when he brought out a Blue Moon.

“Wine, Steffie?” Her mom asked. “White?”

I don’t drink white, ma, she thought. Have you ever seen me drink white? Then, kicking herself, “Sure, sounds great.”

They sat down and talked about work for a while, then the wedding. “No,” Stef sighed, “we’re not getting married here.”

Her father, jumping in, “That’s fine, honey. Whatever you want,” he smiled, “within reason.”

“Thank you Doug,” her mother spat.

Her dad looked at her. “Laura, come on. They live in Chicago, their friends are in Chicago. It’s crazy for them to drag everyone out here.”

Her mother, staring daggers. “I appreciate the support, Doug.”

Her dad, grinning. “Oh, Linda,” her maternal grandmother, which made Stef laugh.

Her mother, softening, “You don’t have to get nasty about it,” she laughed. “We had always discussed having it here.”

“When? When did we ever discuss that?” Stef said, her tone harsher than intended. She laughed a little. “Sorry, but when?”

“When Cat got married,” her mother said.

“You mean,” she laughed, “when I was a junior in high school? I don't even remember that conversation.”

“You said it was nice,” her mother said. Cat had gotten married at the Hilton, which was fine, if you liked a hotel ballroom.

“I also thought Olive Garden was fine dining,” which made her mother smile slightly.

Jared laughed. “We could get married there. Unlimited salad! And breadsticks!”

A glare from Stef, and a ‘Jared,’ from her father, followed by ‘let me give you some advice if your dad hasn't. Stay out of wedding talk. There are only two possibilities there - worse and more worse.’

Stef, “Jared and I will decide where it's happening. Right?” Her dad looked at her, then at Jared.

“Umm, yup, Stef. You and me,” then, laughing, “mostly you probably.”

Stef, annoyed but refusing to give them the satisfaction. “You're entitled to an opinion, so long as it's mine,” she teased, poking him.

After fifteen more minutes of wedding talk, she excused herself and walked upstairs to the bathroom, conveniently ignoring the downstairs powder room. She walked down the hall, looking at the pictures, the ones from when she was little, the more personal vacation shots.

You have got to be fucking kidding, she thought, as she looked at a shot from Disney World from when she was eleven, the twins seven.

Her, mom, dad, Jordan...and a mysterious set of legs hanging over Dad’s shoulders. Jesus, she thought, really?

She went into her room and sat on the bed, looking around, the room preserved, as if in amber. Her yearbooks, her cheerleading trophies, the four National Honor Society certificates. The Intel Science Search plaque, congratulating her for being a finalist, her project focused on developing a new test for sepsis. She remembered Grandpa Frank in the hospital, with the infection that killed him, how proud Grandma Linda was about her project (‘you have greatness in you,’ she'd said, when she told her about the prize.)

Yeah, she thought, do I still?

“I thought you fell in,” she heard Jared say, as he stood in the doorway, grinning.

“Yeah, no. Sorry to leave you there.”

“It's fine. They were asking me about work,” he laughed.

“You know, they don't understand what you do,” she smiled, as he sat down next to her.

“I don't, why should they?” He grinned, “Check it out, guys, I'm in bed with a cheerleader,” his standard joke whenever they came here. Funny the first six times.

“No, you're in bed with the captain of the team,” she scolded him. “If you're going to tell your friends, at least be accurate.”

He kissed her. “You OK?”

“No, I mean I'm fine, just…”

He touched her shoulder. “She's really into this.”

“I know.”

“And it's not like Jordan's gonna be walking down the aisle.”

“They could,” she said, as she sat up, smoothing down the back of her shirt. “Don't say that.”

He sat up. “You know what I mean. Somehow, I picture Jordan being told where to show up and that's that.”

“We should get back downstairs,” she sighed.

“I was wondering if everything was ok,” her mother said, “you were up there a long time.”

“Maaa,” she moaned, the house making her regress by thirteen years, “it wasn't that long.”

Her mother looked at her. “Oh grow up, do you make that noise at work? Does she do this at home, Jared?”

Jared, eyes darting between the other three, “No, she just tells me to do stuff,” then, imitating her, “Ja-RED, I told you to pick up your socks.”

Her father laughed. “Enjoy it now. But, I know the women in this family. You’ll pay for that later.”

They ate lunch, her father asking questions about prospectuses (‘you really read all of that?’ ‘Yeah, they pay a lot for us to read’) and her mom talking about house closings.

“Do you mind if we go for a walk?” Stef asked, after they had sat for a while. “I feel like walking around the neighborhood.”

“Don't be too long. Come home before it's dark,” her mother joked.

They walked along, Stef staring silently at the houses, Jared walking along next to her. Katie's, not that she'd been inside since homecoming after freshman year of college. The Douglases, whose son had been killed in Iraq, how they stayed still a mystery.

They had turned onto one of the streets, when she saw a man and a woman walking towards them. As they got closer…

“Johnny?” Stef said. “Johnny Harper?” A boy, Emmy and Jordan's year.

The man blushed slightly, while the woman, who was clearly a teenage girl trying to look older, laughed. The man's eyes widened. “Stephanie?” Then, they hugged.

Stef took him in, and she could feel Jared adjusting his posture. “Yup. What are you doing with yourself these days?”

John, smiling. She imagined that smile was quite effective. “I'm in a training program at B of A, retail brokerage. And you?”

“I'm an associate at McDermott Will in Chicago. It's a law firm.”

Jared stuck his hand out, a grin plastered on his face. “I'm Jared Gauss, her fiance.”

As John grinned and shook his hand, Stef said. “Johnny was,” a pause, “the twins’ year.” The girl looked at the two men, then rolled her eyes at Stef. “Hi, I'm Stephanie Nehlen.”

Before the girl could say anything, John piped in, “This is my baby sister,” which got a punch.

“Lee Lee?” Stef said, “I babysat you a few times.”

The girl, 5’9”, 140, with John's blonde hair and blue green eyes, long legs sticking from beneath her dress, smiled tightly. “Liana, and I'm sorry I don't remember you.”

Stef, smiling to disarm her, “I wouldn’t expect that you would. You were about three,” and then, “I’m sorry. My parents did, do, that to me all the time. It’s like, ‘I met them once when I was little. No, I have no idea who they are.’ Anyway, you have to be a junior now.”

John put his arm around her. “She is, and she’s a cheerleader.” Turning to his sister, “Stef was a cheerleader too.” Stef looked at Jared, paused to say something, and stopped him.

Liana, looking at John, “Cool.”

“Is Coach Lynch still there?”

Liana, clearly stifling a yawn. “Nah, I think she retired.” Bitch, Stef thought. Then, she’s seventeen and talking to some woman she doesn’t know, what do you expect?

“Oh well,” Stef smiled. Then, I could outcheer you any day of the week. And that dress has the exact opposite effect you wanted it to have.

“How are Chris and Molly doing?” John said brightly.

“They’re good,” Stef said brightly, taking a second to process about whom he was talking.

“What are they up to?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She wasn’t sure what she could or couldn’t say. “Molly’s name is Jordan now. They're in Indianapolis, working as an assistant construction manager.”

John laughed, telling his sister, “Molly, sorry Jordan, was such a tomboy and always liked going to job sites with her dad.” Liana’s look all but announcing, ‘remember when I said couldn’t care less, oops, I could. “That’s great. And Chris? How’s he doing? I never see him on any of the school groups.”

“In California. Working as a legal assistant. Trying to be an actor.” Saving for a vagina, the usual.

“Well, that’s great,” Johnny said, “anyway, it’s my parent’s 25th today. We just took a break from the party. Say hi to everyone for me,” and they walked away.

After they were out of earshot, Jared laughed, “Well, that was awkward.”

Stef laughed. “You have no idea. Emmy used to have such a crush on him.”

Jared rolled his eyes. “Do you think he knew?”

Stef smiled. “Um, would you have at that age?”

“You could’ve held up a sign and I’d have missed it,” he said, kissing her. “But I got better.”

Stef kissed him back, her arms around his neck. “Sure, sure you did.”

---
On their way home, they decided to stop at Jewel, to pick up non-perishables. It was cheaper out here and besides they could load up the car. They were pushing the cart down the pasta aisle when she heard, “You know there are supermarkets closer to you.”

She turned to see Aunt Jeannie, the one aunt on her dad’s side she could tolerate. “Hey Aunt Jeannie,” and she gave her a hug.

She backed up and waved her hand toward her. “Lemme see.”

Stef swore she would never do it again after the last time, but she held her hand out. “Very nice,” then grinning, “congratulations, you two,” then, grinning devilishly, “my flower girl is getting married.”

Jared smiled, “That’s funny. So are we. Tell her congratulations.”

Jeannie, “Anyone ever told you you’re funny?”

Jared, giving her a kiss, “My mom.”

“She lied. Seriously, we are so happy.” She saw Stef’s eyes dart. “Don’t worry. They,” no need to say who, “shop at the other one. Certain people,” the words dripping with contempt, “shop here.”

Stef rolled her eyes. “Whatever. How’s Uncle Rob, Liam?” She didn’t mention her cousin Robbie, Robbie having joined the ranks of the unnamed.

“Everyone’s good. Looking at schools, you know the drill.”

“I’d be happy to take him to Michigan,” she teased.

“Ummm, are you happy to pay for it?” Notre Dame was one of Michigan’s rivals until they backed out of the series.

“Well, I mean,” and she teased Rob in absentia, “Rob’s school would be a solid - if distant - second choice school. I mean, if Illinois State rejects him.”

Jared smiled, “I’m going to go get toilet paper and water. Do you need anything else?”

Stef smiled at Jeannie. “A big ol’ thing of tampons, the largest they have, like super economy size.” He turned red. “Jeannie, do you need him to get you anything?”

Jeannie smiled. “A big package of pink razors and some flowery shaving cream. Take off the cap and sniff, just to be sure.”

“Ha ha,” he said, as he walked away.

Jeannie laughed. “Well, that was mean of you.”

“Oh, he knows I was kidding. We don’t have the space for that,” her hands resting on the bar of the cart. “What else is going on?”

Jeannie looked around, “I saw Emily.”

Stef smiled. “I know. She told me. What do you think?” Bracing herself.

Jeannie smiled. “She is an absolutely lovely young woman.”

Stef, shocked. “Really? You think so?”

Jeannie, “Absolutely. She is just so sweet, charming and polite and I’m so happy for her. We had a wonderful afternoon with her.”

Stef leaned forward in case one of them decided to brave it here. “What did Uncle Rob have to say,” and she took a deep breath.

Jeannie looked at her. “He feels the same way about her. He has business out there now and made her promise that she’d go to dinner with him.”

“Really? He’s not weirded out? You’re not?”

A glare. “Absolutely not. As far as I’m concerned, she was always Emily.” Stef let out a breath. “Although, and you absolutely cannot repeat this, she looks more like your mom than any of you.”

Stef laughed. “Oh god yeah, but they’d both lose it if they heard you. I mean, she really looks like Aunt Jackie at that age,” remembering a picture of her and mom on the beach.

“I could see that,” then Jeannie got serious, “what’s gonna happen with the wedding?”

Stef, matter of fact but tense, “She’s in it. She’s going to be a bridesmaid.”

Jeannie whistled. “Have you told your mom yet?”

“There’s nothing to tell. My wedding, my sister. How could I not have her?”

“I am behind you one hundred percent for what it’s worth but you know there’s going to be a shit storm, excuse me.”

Stef smiled tightly. “I don’t give a fuck, excuse me,” which got a laugh, “they don’t like it, they don’t have to come.”

Jeannie smiled, “I admire your courage. I question your sanity, but I admire your courage nonetheless. We will be there, assuming we don’t get disinvited with them.”

Stef smiled. “I’m going to put you at a table of normal people.”

“I’m honored.” They saw Jared coming in the distance. “He knows, right?”

Stef smiled. “Oh yeah. He couldn’t deal, he’d be gone.”

“And he’s good with it?”

“He loves her,” having spoken to her on the phone. “He says he still doesn’t know how we have the same parents.”

Jeannie laughed, “You couldn’t have two Emmys or two yous in this family.”

Jared came over, a cart full of water and toilet paper. Stef looked at him. “We don’t have space,” then, “I know it was on sale, but we don’t have space.”

Jeannie laughed. “Just so you know Stef, enjoy it now. Once you get married, he,” and she jerked her thumb back, “won’t set foot in here,” then she kissed them and went off.

Jared looked at her. “Everything good?”

She shrugged and they went to pay.