An adult stories – Hot Texas that’s Miss Texas: Bk. 04 by DickBogart1953,DickBogart1953 Everyone in this tale of young love is 18+
Hot Texas, that’s Miss Texas. Book 4.
Jenny says. “Hard having a life without time off. We got no bookings; after paying the montage here and bills, we got you going to kill me, baby, but were dollars away from being overdrawn.”
I say. “Baby, I run to the bank and pull from savings, so Debbie, no worries, right? We got a few months at the cash flow we used this month. But I am betting on us, baby. This is a good team. I buy us dinner, but our Cards are getting close to their limits, but I can roast veggies, and I got some lean fish we can toss in.”
Jenny says. “I’m in anything anytime you cook. OK, with me, how about you, Debbie? We have lived together now for sixty days. I not cooked once.”
I laughed softly and say. “Hon Ann your Mom warned me you burn toast, and you only caught the kitchen on fire twice, but Bob did say you might be trainable.”
I dodged a tossed pillow going to the kitchen to get started. As I washed and chopped veggies, Jenny reached for my larger knife to begin cutting the carrots, and she missed her finger, and I took her knife away and told her. “To please fix the salad dressing.”
I gave her my kitchen shears. Then, I showed you how to make the dressing from scratch.
As Debbie looked on, she says. “You two are so fun together; he never gets upset. He lets it flow.”
Dinner was great, and the next day we were invited to the rehearsal and the dinner, and I brought my camera, a 35mm M3 Leica and a lens. With a small German bounce flash, it fit in my Man purse. It did not look like a camera bag, but that’s what it was. Candid photos of the rehearsal first and the dinner after. I got a great idea of the church space; no flash photos till the group shots. A rock and roll type of photography, my lens would get a workout.
We ate at the restaurant, and I walked around to snap a few pics when I saw ‘IT’, the couple in street clothes with their family looking on as the couple kissed, and they broke out laughing as my shutter went click.
I knew I had a shot for an easel at the reception. I asked. “Jenny, to say good night, we need to get home. I got to get in my darkroom. I got to love on film, baby, a print of love for the reception.”
Jenny says.”That click when they kissed, Baby, I saw that moment; they will cherish it forever. Like I adore you, baby.” We said our good-nights.
I gained lots of experience working as a medical photographer in the darkroom; I looked at dry contact sheets in under two hours and was making a sixteen by twenty print by midnight as Jenny sat with me, her hand on my back rubbing me as the magic came up in the tray white paper went into the chemicals. It turned into magic love on film a photo.
Jenny kissed me as I started the two-hour wash. I put a timer on my print dryer to turn on and be hot as the print wash ended. We kissed and made love as softly as we wanted. No big deal this time you started it. We watched a movie on late-night TV, cuddling until the timer went off as I dried and spotted a print, matted it, and framed it by three am. I joined you in bed tired.
You stroked my hair and neck as I fell asleep with you near. I am unsure how long, but I feel your lips on my forehead hearing half asleep. “Rest, my love; it will be your show next.” Jenny says so softly it could have been a dream.
I woke at one pm to Jenny giving me coffee and a breakfast taco, only burnt on one side, as I ate it and kissed Jenny.
Debbie was due soon, and Jenny says. “Baby, we don’t have much time, but I want your seed.”
You work your magic, and I was happy to be on the end of this wild ride; if time were better, I would return the favor, but you love how this is primarily one-sided; you said you only get tiny comes when I come I still think you’re rubbing your thighs together.
Debbie got here, was dressed, and my gear was near the door; Jenny had a list of must-have photos; I read over it and Asked. “If Debbie or Jenny was in charge of lining up the photo opportunity and checking off the list, I edited the list to show when we do what.” Jenny looked at the list and split it into two lists. You have one of us with you next wedding. We will get you a photographer’s assistant. Debbie bought up the idea of a woman photographer/assistant to cover both rooms, the bride and me, the groom’s party. I sent Jenny and Debbie to the brides to see if they were ready for me.
Then, Jenny sent Debbie to get me to take theirs, and we swapped off.
I overheard Debbie tell Jenny. “He was great. He had the guys laughing and doing funny stuff with the groom’s men. Then, we watched him with the ladies. I have never seen any man make strangers this conformable in front of the camera that easy.”
We drove to the church, so I was there for them getting out of the limo; I got a funny shot of the bride’s father next to the limo, his daughter getting in, and Dad’s pockets turned out empty. At the church service, I found an angle that gave me their faces as they traded rings and held their kiss. I snapped a few shots as I rushed down the aisle to get them leaving.
The plan is to let the church leave and head to the reception, and Jenny and Debbie group the families back in for group photos, As I have ten minutes to do a few fun shots as the group photos are lined up, Bride and groom and the preacher so he can leave. Then the family shots, bridesmaids, and groomsmen. We had the family for thirty minutes and opened the doors to the family with their cameras; they had ten.
Jenny told them. “The limo was due in fifteen, then we needed to line up for the rice throwing and taking the limo to the reception. We got great shots as sparklers were added to the fun, hell I had them for years, but they looked great birdseed and sparklers. I climbed into the limo and had the bride and groom kiss inside the limo.
The limo pulled away with orders to leave and wait for our silver minivan, so I would be there before they arrived. The limo had a flat, but they were happy to ride the party bus with their friends, but what fun photo-wise it was. I rode the party bus turning down shot after shot of Makers Mark. Jenny told me later they wanted to hang with their friends, a fact that Jenny would use to get more work in the future, by listening to what the couple wished to it’s a winning idea.
The reception was next Debbie came to us and says. “The couple is taking twenty to check the weather in Nome Alaska, their words, but I brought coffee, water, and energy bars. I thought the parents would lose their shit when the limo got a flat, but the party exited the bus all smiles, and even that made great photos.”
The rest of the night must have been a blur for the couple. But we get fifteen minutes outside for photos as the rest finish eating; I set up a couple of shots of him looking at her and some of her looking at him, Jenny says. “Time, Debbie, check inside, please we’re giving Dan a few more what do you say, guys? You are the boss?”
She wanted one photo where her man picked her up, and they teased about kissing as I was right in their faces.
I say. “You two are a perfect match; anything else before we return inside?”
The couple says. “Just one photo with you two. You made the start of our life together special.” As I hand my camera to Debbie, she snaps a few shots of us.
The night moved along quickly after dinner, the first dance, cake cutting, champagne toast, Mother and Son dance, and father and daughter dance to tossing the bouquet and the grand exit to a limo. I sit down, taking my homemade bola string tie with a photo of my camera in a silver slide mount and watch gears you had to see.
I took it off and say. “Wow, that was great, only eight hours.” As Bob and Ann come by to say hello and kiss us. “You guys too tired for Harlow’s?”
Jenny says. “Well, Mom, not so much tired as busted broke.”
Ann says. “We got your back, kids. That was the nicest wedding we’ve ever been to. You, kids, were great; that photo at the rehearsal dinner was to die for. You’re going to be very busy, guys, no doubt. If we ask nicely, do you think we can get copies?”
“Mom, Dan, put yours in the van. He said you asked for copies. We’ll give it to you at the restaurant.” Jenny laughed as she said it.
We ate a midnight snack and planned a dinner date at our house to show off my love-nest. We got home, and I wrote up Debbie’s time card. I say. “We need to pay her more, dear; she was everything we needed as we needed it.
Jenny says. “It’s worth thinking about, but she had other things on her mind.”
As there was no doubt what you were looking for. You were wet, and our foreplay was just getting undressed. But I made you sing as I change positions, You say. “You think that will help you, my dear man?”
You started pounding me as we hit that bliss, that edge that shattered with a giggle and a moan as you pulled my balls. Then, as we screamed out our Joy, you sprayed us.
Catching our breath, Jenny says. “So worth the mess, your so worth the mess now, bathroom baby, we need to clean up.”
The next day was Sunday, and we lazed in bed till noon as I turned on the air conditioner and the water chiller to develop the film in the darkroom. I set up the darkroom to process the movie and got ready to print the contact sheets. Jenny got up and started playing music as I ran the film. You would come in with coffee or water, a piece of fruit, I got rolls hanging in the film dryer, and I have four contact sheets.
Jenny asked if I trusted her to edit the wedding or if I would do it instead. “Wait till I turn the wash on. They are dry in twenty, and let me watch you edit; I trust you with my baby photos because my photos are my babies.”
The answer was yes, she could. You have done a few sheets of the twenty rolls of candid shots. I kiss you. “You got this, baby.”
I return to the darkroom and start the fifteen rolls of the group shots and formals, a four reel tank, and twenty-two minutes per tank shoot that’s a few hours of developing, another half hour to dry, and contact sheets in another hour.
My contact sheets are eleven by fourteen prints, making the images about two by three inches each. Perfect for picking images out for printing an album. Jenny edited the photos down to a few hundred. Jenny asked. “If it was doable to have slides for the Bridal show and an album of eight by ten prints.”
I say. “Tuesday too soon for the prints? Give me a few more days on the slides; we must drop the color photos off at the lab for the flowers, cake, and tables. So I traded a favor at the lab and ordered prints on the counter, with Jenny helping me pick out the shots for poster prints. They had seen a lot of Jenny. She worked for more than a few local photographers and did much convention work. A tall, unshaven vulgar man, a local fashion photographer, is known by many as a player.
He asked. “Hey, Girly, if she does a nude hot tub with a basketball player, extra fun later if the player likes you, and a bitch can even make more money.”
Jenny turns to me and says. “Tell this cockroach to get out of my face, or he be walking funny after I let you pound him into the dirt.”
I stood upright and snickered. “He needed to bring three friends if he was planning to fight back; why are you still here, funny boy?”
He splits, and the counter girl says. “He been hitting on her for hours; my boss won’t let me tell him to leave.”
I say. “I can help you there I know who’s buried in the closet.”
I step back and find the owner and tell him. “What happened out front? It would be at the next meeting of the professional photographers association, and it would not be a good look.”
He called the manager in, had him take his film to the guy’s office, and told him not to return. So we left and stopped for coffee. We could afford that at least, and I asked Jenny to tell me how our wedding would go.
I was sure I heard a story like a fairy tale, but you seemed to be at a loss for words again; you’re not talking. So my friends Larry and Suzy, his wife, got back in town, and we are swinging by to look at his work later tonight, and he shoots weddings for friends, only his main work is commercial/fashion photography.
Larry’s studio is in the older part of town called the Heights. It’s just blocked from our house. We have mixed drinks as Jenny and Suzy seemed to hit it off like long-lost sisters. He pulls his wedding book out. Jenny had no idea she was looking at photos.
Jenny says. “Dan, it’s not you, but I see why you brought us; Larry, sir. Will you do our wedding photography, please? Dan hit on a winner. So now that worry is off my mind about the photos, I can tell you about our day.”
I say. “I knew Larry and Suzy for what almost twelve years. I had a secret crush on them, wanting them to do our wedding. I am so happy you agree.”
Jenny tells of our day waking together, getting dressed going to the church to different sides of the church; the photographer’s reportage of our getting ready “As Black and White we walk into the church still in b&w and then color coming down the aisle we send the guest to the reception I don’t want Uncle Royce using flash powered for photos on rainy days the church still smells on damp days.”
I laughed and say. “I think I sold him that working at a camera store guy five foot nothing happy as hell, with a reddish nose wife was cute and supper funny?” I asked.
Jenny says. “That’s him, but you have thirty for the families photos, give or take the time you need, then we do you and my photos. Would it be silly to have a pumpkin-shaped white horse-drawn carriage takes us to the reception?”
I say.”No, my love, I even know who to call April runs the horse carriages at Herman Park. I am not sure their pumpkin shape but a white carriage, but they have white horses.” I added.
You say. “Talking about the music, the decor, the lighting, and the grand exit. For the catering, you will order twice the amount of food than the guests, and could we send them with the leftovers to the church for Sunday dinner? Dan, would you kill me if we served them food the next day? I want to give back, baby. I have so much, and they have none.” I stood to hold you, you cried, and Larry had to hold Suzy.
Suzy looked up and says. “Dan, you marry her, or I will.” We laughed. It was beautifully detailed in under twenty minutes; we can do this.
Larry says. “Jenny, thank you. I know you want Dan. I’ve seen his work; my son helped him at a wedding. I bet money and a fog machine for the carriage photo you guys get us a date. We got a few dates that were not available check with Suzy before you book.
“Dude, what did I tell you? It’s your turn.” Larry chuckled.
Suzy goes. “What’s this?”
Larry says. “Jenny worked on a catalog with us. Dan was there for the lab but stayed for all five days. He helped her out of doing nudes for shaving cream he said no way. But it was so obvious he has fallen hard for an Angel.”
Suzy says. “The fact that you to met at a gig is amazing.”
We begged off a dinner date that night as I had slides to make.
Jenny asked on the ride home. “Can the Newlyweds come over and look at their photos?”
I say. “No, sorry dear, I only show my best they might love a fuzzy picture, which makes me look bad. Tell them I’m almost done with the prints for their book.” I got done by midnight.
We put the booth together on Thursday, the day before. But we got price lists, discount coupons, business cards from the printers, sample albums, and large color prints. So we showed up, put our booth together, and I turned the slide trays over to the venue, and they did a test run. Debbie saw it and ran and got Jenny. Something else again, seeing your images thirty feet wide and twenty feet tall.
Jenny walked to me and says. “Dude, that looks like we had the best sex on the beach. Maybe if we get some cash, we can spend a week at a real beach.”
The set is done. Jenny tells me that doors are at ten am the next day, the line to get in will be blocks long, and we go in a back way. Getting there the next day and planning which covers the booth when Jenny has to walk the runway. The doors open. I have not seen anything like it. Hitting the ground fast, the photo-booth tickets were given out at the fashion show.
Ann stops by and kisses me. “Jenny is up getting dressed for the runway. She was here with some cousins, but they were waiting for Jenny’s walk. Care to escort me, kind sir?” As a Bride came up and asked a question.
Ann says. “You guys are going to be busy.”
I answered questions and showed my albums, but the bride says. “She wants to talk to Jenny about the wedding with the planner before signing.”
She did say I made her feel important. So I set up an appointment, the first of many for Jenny.
After the first Bridal runway, brides show up for their photo booth photos. It stayed busy. Debbie was great with people; she could greet people while showing the packages to another bride. Near the end of the day, we had eight meetings to review their choices. We booked a dozen weddings and five more, just bridal or engagement photos booked, and deposit checks in hand. The next day was a blur. We doubled the bookings. I said twenty-five; we hit twenty-two in three days. Debbie drove us home, and She slept on our couch as if we were the walking dead. I heated some hot food, and we overate on tasty curried veggies. That Sunday night, I wrote checks for bills, including Debbie’s salary. I made bank on the deposit checks; not to be rude, but we would be swamped.
That Monday rolled into a slow week. We did not have anything to do Debbie called and asked for a favor. Her now EX was upset about her not coming home Saturday or Sunday night. We let her stay on the sofa even after calling both nights. Could she store her stuff here as she stays with her mom until she can find a place to live?
Jenny asked. “Yes, you got a bed or a couch at your Moms?”
Debbie says. “It’s a couch in a one-bedroom apartment in Baytown, a forty minutes drive one way.”
I say. “Jenny, up to you dear, but the mother-in-law suite is out back. It’s five hundred square feet, and I remodeled the bathroom. So I say we give it to her for a dollar that ups what we pay her closer to what she’s worth to us, dear.”
Jenny says. “That resale shop in the Heights, dear they had nice pieces she grabbed Debbie’s hand and asked. “You in, dear?”
They grab their purses and run out the door to get a couch, bed, and other things. Jenny returned, kissed me hard, smiled at me, and left. I pull my camera bags out and clean and check every piece of gear I have, it was like growing up at home, and my Dad cleaned and put up my tools. I was packing my bags when I heard you drive up, putting them in the safe.
Debbie came in and asked me. “To lend a back with the furniture.” I went out and picked the couch up off the truck bed, and a guy came over from next door and gave me a hand. After a few minutes, we are done. I brought her boxes to the suite, went into the house, brought a bucket of cleaning products, and cleaned the bathroom as Debbie stood at the door. Jenny came up, and they stood and watched me clean.
Jenny says. “Mary would be here in a few days; why not let her do it.”
I say. “It needs to be done, dear plus, what says more? What do you mean to us doing this now or waiting?”
Debbie says. “I’ll be happy to clean up this mess, but sorry, Jenny, but that was the sweetest thing anyone has done for me; thank you both.”
You sat on the couch as I did the kitchen, closing the fridge and wiping it down inside, and plugging it in. Then, finally, Jenny and I returned to the main house, stopping at the backdoor.
I say. “Dinner was at seven. It was turkey salad sandwiches leftovers, but you are welcome at our table.”
We went in, and I made the salad as I put the seven-grain sourdough bread in the oven. I play a Ray Charles Live album from 1974 as the loaf baked.
As we ate dinner, we talked about our school days. Then, finally, it came around to me to talk about my art class. “It was my art class, and how my teacher talked about my drawings looking like layout sketches for photographers, It pissed me off at the time but hold on, I just saw them bottom of the negative safe the other day.”
I said, running off to my darkroom. They hear me digging and cussing a bit, I say. “Oops, sorry for my French ladies, here it is!”
I return and drop my art sketchbook in front of the ladies. Jenny slides closer to Debbie, opens the book, and says. “What the fuck, Dan? You said you were going to get your book, not mine. Wait, shit; this is yours.”
Now it’s your turn to run. You get your wedding wish book, and I get my portfolio of weddings. All three on the table look like my sketch’s stayed in my mind, and I reproduced them as posed wedding photographs. But that does not explain how eight out of ten of your sketches of what you wanted in your pictures matched, and I had two extra that needed to be done to look like an art director did them for the photographs.
Jenny asked. “If we could do your two sketch’s or do we need Larry?”
I say. “Light looks good in another twenty minutes in the front room. The white wood and glass French doors almost match how much you want to wear, dear you pick. I don’t need to tell other people how perverted I happen to be because, dear, I know, you know.”
Jenny answered. “Pg17 works for me, but I find it a little odd you never asked me to take my clothes off, but your snaps of me and us, I’m not sure I show them to Mom and Dad. So let me get them and show Debbie that’s OK with my Perv dear.”
I nodded as you kissed my head. I said. I grabbed my camera bag and set the camera angle on the tripod. I snapped with my Polaroid 195 Land camera, waited the forty seconds, pulled it apart, and it looked good, just a minor tweak on the settings and a change to the film camera.
I went and changed the bathroom; our house does not have a master bath, but I updated the bath moving in two years ago now. Taking out a linen closet and half an over sized pantry to make the bathroom more excellent a large shower stall and a claw-foot tub, and two sinks and enlarged the master bedroom, but it was used for hers and hers, I mean his closet space a well sized one. While waiting for the light, Debbie was ready to snap with my instant Land camera.
You pointed to the record player and started what was there, and turned my amp on, turning it down. When it played, you turned it up a bit. I waited as we posed, me holding my baby in my arms. We were both in undies and men’s dress shirts as you kicked your leg up a spare pair of undies on your stiletto heels, making it look like you were not wearing any. Debbie shot the film and bracketed it as I showed you to, and the timer dinged, and we came over. Debbie looks up, seeing me holding you like you were not heavy. The gym is the answer for that.
As Debbie pulled the instant print apart and we looked at the image, it looked perfect. I put Jenny down and asked her to set the bed dear I’ll have a print in less than an hour as I ran off to wash the negative of the Polaroid. I washed it, hung it up to dry and set the timer, filled the print trays with their chemicals, returned to help, and got two wolf whistles. Jenny walked over to me, bit my neck, leaving a mark, and growled at Debbie, and you told me. “Put your shorts on, Mr. Perv.” I open a drawer, grab a pair of undershorts and toss it on the side of the light, putting gym shorts on. You move it, but it’s still in the shot as it covers the clock radio. I went and changed into the shorts and tussled my hair to give it a hotbed hair look. I hear a timer go off, and I step into the dark room, put the negative in the enlarger, frame up the shot, knock out a print first try, and make a second one better put them both in the wash. Returning to the bedroom, Debbie and Jenny had a shot framed up nicely. I was happy with it and set the camera with a few adjustments. Jenny got in bed, and then I did as we adjusted the lights and we put on the covers, making it look like we were naked. You had your knees up, and the sheets covered you as you took your shirt off.
We took another instant shot, and Debbie got a few film stills, and we were done. I pulled the negative off the image. It looked just as good as when I first ran to the dark room, and Jenny followed and put a tee shirt on me.
Debbie comes in through the revolving darkroom door. She smiled at us and says. “Mommy tiger growls, and she bites; message received,” Debbie said with a laugh. It sounded a touch nervous.
I washed it and say, ” Getting late, but ten to dry twelve to twenty on a print and two hours on the wash, two hours at the gym, ladies? We can leave after I make the print.” I say.
Working out became bi-weekly, as did meeting with new Brides to be the Bridal show was worth the money, and what we were put in came back tenfold. Jenny invited her folks up for dinner. I cooked Candied Pork chops, mac and cheese with five kinds of cheese, homemade pasta, green beans with cherry tomatoes and bacon bits, and a tossed green salad. I let Jenny make that and homemade French bread.
Jenny called her folks and told them we had a contractor coming out to get us an estimate on a remodel. We picked an office with three desks over the dining room. Hence, it was the last weekend with a dining room but talk about stunning. My ten-seated farm table fit in my breakfast nook. It came out of our family farmhouse; the legs were rotted, but new legs were refinished. The table was black walnut under the four layers of paint. I remember getting the call when they stripped the paint to repaint it; the wood was stunning. We gave it a wax coat and never talked about painting again.
I had everything prepped and ready the aroma of fresh bread filled the house with beautiful smells. I put on a record of soft jazz as the table in the kitchen was set, and the candles were ready to light; I heard your folks come into laughter of man, it smells good in here. I put the pork chops in the oven and took off my apron. Ann has her arms wrapped around me as she kisses me. Bob comes in, sees the wine, looks at the label, nods and opens it to let it breathe, and asks Ann to look at the table. Jenny comes in with Billy Ray’s wife, Wendy. I hugged her as I did Ann and told them they were welcome in my house and dinner. As I glanced at the timer for dinner twenty-two minutes, the timer on the bread went off. Jenny grabs pot holders and hands them to me, and I pull out and put them on the cooling racks. I took one and sliced it into chunks, and I pulled out four kinds of oils to dip the bread in. One was clarified butter and garlic herb. We had cocktails of Maker’s Mark or wine, fresh bread, Avocado oil, olive oil, and a Walnut and black truffle infused oil. It was a hit as the family looked at my photo albums and even got talked into digging out the projector I showed my fun photos. It had a tray of nothing but pictures of Jenny and me, I started the tray, pulled the chops out to rest, and dished up the sides, and Jenny came in and helped put things on the table.
Jenny says. “Mom mentioned Wendy is trying to get a business started doing taxes. We can help Hon. We need someone to do our taxes, and we got a good amount in the bank. Now we can do ten grand easy; baby, let’s help her out.”
I kissed you to the family coming in to eat. “You two again with the kissing as Bob kisses Ann. I walked over and kissed Wendy, as did Jenny, and I asked. “How much do you charge to do taxes for a business for a year?
Wendy answered me. “About a thousand a year, maybe a bit more if you do quarterly reports, about fifteen hundred a year.”
I say. “Here, shake my hand, dear we sign a check for the next ten years worth dear, write up a contract, and we will give you a check to take with you tonight. I say we both will win and up yours; on giving us a discount for being family, I believe in paying my way and paying my fair share. Getting a deal or a discount does not say we value your skills. Plus, you need enough to work out of an office building. Working from home doesn’t bring in the big bucks.”
“You in, dear?” Jenny asked.
I say. “We booked four times at the bridal show and got a future, dear.”
Jenny says. “Dan’s right if you want to give us a discount, give it to help women start businesses and pay it forward. Now enough talk, let’s eat please, it’s so good.”
We dug in and talked. It was fun, and Ann asked. “If we were planning on kids?”
Jenny teared up, and she ran to the bedroom. I say. “I thought we had more time to work on what to tell you, but I will be right back. I need to ask Jenny first.”
I walked to our room, and you were crying as I held you. “I’m telling your folks something, but I not sure what to say, dear?” I say.
You found the courage and say. “No, they deserve an answer. I am figuring out what question we need to talk about. As you washed your face in the bathroom, we walked back, and I rubbed your back. You giggled once as you put eye drops in to help your red eyes. Finally, we sat down at the table. I have coffee, four kinds of liqueur, and homemade Avocado ice cream with sugar-cone spoons and bowls for dessert.
Jenny asked. “Mother, why did kids scare her so the thought of having kids do not make her happy? Mom, I don’t understand why. Dan and I have talked, and he loves me so much he tells me if I have fears, it’s on me if we want kids or not if Dan gets his swimmers cut off from the pool.”
“A swimmers pool, kids? Oh, wait to get a vasectomy. I’m on the same page now.” Ann says.
Ann takes a deep breath and says. “Bob, she deserves to know, but you were a twin. Your brother died hours after you were two were born. You were thirty-some-odd days premature. I wonder if you somehow knew you often talked as a child about missing your other half. I catch you talking to someone not there. It got worse when you stopped eating; we gave you everything to compensate for your difficulty in thriving as a kid. Now look at you, sexy as hell, almost married, and whatever you decide, dear, I’m with Dan. It’s up to you.”
We did not have a reason, nor did I feel the need for one. I would be happy planning and share our future. We still had yet to set a date. Jenny told me it would be a good idea to get all the ducks in a row before we do, and bookings were still coming in, and we wanted the work, and we would schedule our wedding in an off time.