Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
They’d also invited the entire neighborhood, hired a bunch of food trucks to give out free food, and booked a great band, which was playing classic rock. Romy and his brother had grown up above their mom’s bar, which was now owned by Romy’s friend Pete. The bar was the epicenter of the celebration, and Pete had been paid to keep the free drinks flowing. Though of course, given all the pharmaceuticals in my system, I stuck to ginger ale.
Aleksei and I were curled up side-by-side on a wide lounge chair, thoughtfully provided by one of the neighbors when they saw the state I was in. I rested my head on my boyfriend’s shoulder and said, “Isn’t this beautiful? And Romy and Marcus look incredibly happy.”
My friend and his new husband were out in the middle of the street, slow dancing and seemingly oblivious to everything but each other. A few hours earlier, they’d driven through an Elvis-themed wedding chapel and tied the knot with just immediate family in attendance.
“I like everything about this, from the food trucks to the way they got the entire community involved,” Aleksei said. “I will say though, I’m imagining something much more intimate for our wedding.”
I turned my head to look at his profile. “Our wedding?”
“Yes. Since I’m planning to be with you for the rest of my life, I’m obviously going to marry you. That’s how these things work, you know.” He tried to sound very business-like, but a smile played around his lips.
I pretended to be all business, too. “So, when might some sort of proposal be forthcoming?”
“A few months, probably. First, you need time to heal, and to literally get back on your feet.”
After a pause, I asked, “What are you going to do if Lee remains totally opposed to us being together? I’d feel awful if I cost you your relationship with your son.”
“Lee’s going to come around.” He said that with absolute certainty.
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because my son is a good person. He’s not petty, and he won’t hold a grudge forever. It caught him off guard when he found out we were together, totally out of the blue. It must have felt like an ambush, so he reacted in kind. But eventually, he’ll realize we never set out to hurt him. We’re together because we love each other. That’s all there is to it.”
“I hope you’re right.” I rested my head on his shoulder again and watched the partygoers for a while. Then I said, mostly to myself, “I wish we could dance. I’d love to be in your arms right now, out on that dance floor.”
“We can.” Aleksei jumped up and looked around. Then he called to Romy’s brother Adriano, “Hey, could you give us a hand?”
When Adriano joined us, Aleksei explained, “Timothy wants to dance, but as you can see, this presents a few challenges. I have an idea, though.”
He leaned in and whispered something to Adriano, who grinned and said, “That’ll work.”
Aleksei took a seat in my wheelchair and stuck his leg in the support that was meant to hold up my cast. Once he was settled, he nodded to Adriano, who carefully lifted me up and sat me on my boyfriend’s lap. My leg was supported by Aleksei’s, and when I leaned against him, he asked, “Comfy?”
“Very.”
Aleksei slid his arms around me, being careful of my injuries as he called to our companion, “Once around the dance floor, please.”
Adriano was a huge guy, and someone who was used to being in charge. He bellowed, “Clear the way, people! Broken leg, coming through,” and the crowd parted.
Then he began to roll us forward and back, in time to the music. When he spun around with the chair, I smiled and closed my eyes. Aleksei held me gently as he asked, “What do you think? Does it feel like we’re dancing?”
“Better,” I whispered. “It feels like we’re flying.”
Sometime later, when we were back on the lounge chair and had eaten a sampling from each of the food trucks, Nana Dombruso came bustling over to us. She was wearing a red, sequined dress, and there was a big, black handbag slung over her skinny arm. She was also holding a gigantic margarita, and she offered it to me and said, “Here, cutie, I thought you might be thirsty.”
“Thanks, Nana, but I can’t drink. The doctor says it’s a bad combination with the pain meds I’m taking.”
“Doctors are such a buzz kill! But speaking of meds, I might have something to make you feel better.” She started digging through her handbag as she told me, “I’ve got all kinds of stuff. My favorites are these weed gummies. Try one of them, and you won’t be feeling any pain.”
“I’m not sure about that. They might interact with my prescriptions,” I said.