Long Time Coming

Edgar, using a pair of tongs to remove strips of crisp bacon from the heated griddle, shot his youngest son a warning look. “Watch it, son. You’re talking about my princess.”

“Dad, you know your princess is spoiled rotten.”

“And you’re not, mama’s boy?” Edgar teased.

“Edgar, please,” Rosalind said softly, blushing. “We have company.” Her husband had accused her of spoiling Abram, while she’d blamed him for indulging their only daughter’s every whim.

Micah’s hand cradled the small of Tessa’s back. “Let me show you where you can wash up before we sit down to eat.”

Tessa stood in an all-white bathroom with pale blue accents, next to Micah at twin blue-veined pedestal sinks, washing her hands. She met his amused gaze in the mirror. He’d taken off his cap and placed it on a table with a half dozen others bearing the logos of baseball and football teams.

“What’s so funny, Micah?”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Go ahead and say it.”

She smiled. “Say what?”

“That my family is a little off the chain.”

“They appear quite normal to me.”

“Didn’t you notice something that was just a bit unconventional?”

“By unconventional do you mean that the Sanborns are a multiracial family?”

Reaching for a towel on a stack on a low table, Micah handed it to Tessa. “Yes.”

“Your family is anything but unconventional, Micah. I’ve interacted with families with two mommies or two daddies, transgender, families where the bride and groom are visually-or hearing-impaired and I’m forced to bring in someone fluent in Braille or American Sign Language. That’s what I’d consider unconventional. My focus will be on the bride, the groom and the mother of the bride. And if Bridget and Seth want a traditional interfaith ceremony wedding, then there are certain customs and traditions they have to follow.”

Micah dried his hands as he watched Tessa’s reflection in the mirror. The more sedate hairstyle displayed her features to their best advantage, but he much preferred seeing her hair loose and framing her face in sensual disarray.

“When my brothers got married, all I had to do was put on a tuxedo and show up.”

“You’ve never been a best man?”

He shook his head. “I’ve been a witness a few times but never a best man. What about you, Tessa? Have you ever been a bride?”

She met his steady gaze in the glass. “No.”

“Have you come close?”

“No. What about you, Micah?” she asked, shifting the focus from herself to him. “Were you ever married?

“No, and I’ve never come close.”

“Do you like women?”

Her query must have startled him, because he went completely still. The frown lines that appeared between his eyes were replaced with a knowing smile. Resting a thigh against the pedestal sink, he crossed his arms over his chest. “You think because we slept together and I didn’t touch you that I’m not into women?”

Tessa blushed, the color temporarily concealing the spray of freckles across her velvety cheeks. “This is not about me.”

His smile widened. “Isn’t it, Tessa?”

“No. It’s about you, Micah.”

“What about me?”

“I’ve come into contact with together sisters every time I coordinate a wedding. Bridesmaids and maids of honor looking for a together brother like you. But when they do marry, it is to settle because they don’t want to be alone and they don’t want to become just a baby mama.”

Micah angled his head. “By settle you mean they marry brothers who don’t come correct?”

“Yes. The men they marry don’t measure up, will never measure and have no intention of ever measuring up. Instead of becoming a partner, she’s thrust into the role of working overtime emotionally to make her marriage a success.”

Micah had lost track of the number of times he’d overheard black women complain about not being able to find a “good black man.” He’d worked and gone to school with good black men. His brothers were good black men, loving husbands and protective fathers.

“Thank you for the backhanded compliment, Tessa. But, unlike Will and Bram, I’m not the marrying kind.”

“You don’t believe in marriage?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe in marriage. In fact, I believe it’s a very important societal institution necessary for creating and preserving families. However, marriage is just not for me.”

Tessa’s mouth curved into an unconscious smile. “I admire your honesty. Most men would be reluctant to admit that. But I’m glad you’re not in the majority or I’d be out of business.”

“Sorry about interrupting, Uncle Micah, but Grandma is waiting for you before we say grace.”

Micah turned to find Marisol lounging in the doorway. “Tell her we’re coming.”

Tessa walked out of the bathroom with Micah. His statement, Marriage is just not for me, lingered with her during the brunch she shared with the Sanborns, and nagged at her when she sat down with Rosalind to discuss what they needed for Bridget’s upcoming wedding.

Tessa sat at a lace-covered table in Rosalind Sanborn’s sun parlor. The room was an exquisite retreat. The near-white furnishings and accessories and bright autumn sunlight filtering through white-on-white awning-striped voile drapes at the many-mullioned windows brought the outdoors inside.

She handed Rosalind a bridal information guide. “It looks more daunting than it actually is. You can read it at your leisure. However, I’m going to give you a brief overview so you’ll know what I’ll need to start the process of planning Bridget’s wedding. Please stop me anytime you need to ask me something.”

Rosalind gave Tessa a direct stare. “Even before you begin, I’d like to know whether it’s humanly possible to plan a formal wedding in ten weeks.”

Tessa saw doubt and fear in the blue eyes peering at her over a pair of half-glasses. She smiled. “Signature Bridals has been known to perform minor miracles given less time than what Bridget is giving us.”

Rosalind, pressing her palms together, exhaled audibly and whispered a silent prayer. “Edgar doesn’t like to hear it, but Bram’s right when he says that Bridget’s spoiled. Unfortunately, I’ve spoiled all of my children,” she said in a voice that seemed to come a long way off.

“Isn’t that what parents are suppose to do?”

Rosalind observed Tessa through lowered lids. “Are you speaking from experience, Tessa?”

“No, I’m not. I don’t have any children.”

There was a pregnant silence as the two women regarded each other. Tessa cleared her throat. She knew she had to steer the focus back to Bridget’s wedding.

“I’d like to cover the different elements that make up a wedding. I’ll begin with the breakdown of roles and responsibilities of the members of the wedding party, the ceremony, the reception and, last but certainly not least, is money and who pays for what. I believe it’s better when the bride and groom stick to tradition, given the time frame, but if they want to break the rules, then it can’t be something catastrophic.”