All of It (35 page)

He’s still looking at the screen though the corner of his mouth hints at a grin. “So, there’s this girl,” he begins. “It always starts with a girl, doesn’t it?”

I nod as seriously as I can manage. “It always starts with a girl.”

“Here, here …” he concurs. “Well, there’s this girl, and she’s not just any girl … she’s the most amazing, fantastic, phenomenal girl I’ve ever met—”

“
Phenomenal
?” I interrupt. “Wow, this sounds serious.”

He nods. He’s playing along, but his eyes are still on the laptop screen. “That’s just it. It is serious.” At this his mouth twitches closer to a grin. “This phenomenal girl just agreed to
marry
me and I don’t even have a proper engagement ring to secure her hand. I’m the consummate prognosticator, but alas the timing, though perfect, was spontaneous, and has left me looking like some kind of inept romantic fool.”

This makes me smile and I can’t hide it. “Quite a conundrum.”

He looks up now and grins. “Quite.” He turns the laptop around and he’s on the Tiffany & Co. website. The screen is filled with sparkling diamond engagement rings.

I shake my head. “Dimitri, it’s not important.”

His face is serious now; the playful banter is over. “Yes, it is important. You’re the most important person in the world and I asked you to marry me, and I don’t even have the ring yet.”

“I’m serious though. The ring isn’t important to me. You are.”

“I just want it to be perfect.”

“It will be. We’ll be together.”

He smiles.

I tilt my head and narrow my eyes. “Have you been planning on asking me to marry you for a while, or is this just something that happened today? You said it was spontaneous.”

He sets the laptop on the coffee table and looks at me for several moments before he answers. I feel his eyes looking into the depths of my soul. This is real. “The first day we met I knew I was going to ask you to marry me. Today was just … right.”

Life is sometimes … just right.

We’re in Sunny’s kitchen waiting for her to arrive home from church. Sebastian’s home and has already been clued in. When Dimitri tells him the news he responds with, “Took you long enough to ask her.” Then he winks at me and says, “Destiny. I told you so.” Sebastian, the eternal romantic.

Sebastian is waiting with us. He wants to see Sunny’s reaction. There’s a bet riding on it—fifty bucks. Sebastian says she’ll cry and babble on incoherently and Dimitri says she’ll do her happy dance and hug him until he breaks in two.

Dimitri edges out Sebastian for the win. At the announcement, she does indeed do her happy dance (it’s really, really cute), she squeezes him just short of breaking him in two (and me too), and she does babble, but it’s brief … and coherent. There are no tears though, so a tie is avoided. She’s ecstatic.

Sebastian slips Dimitri a fifty.

After she settles down, she sits on a stool at the kitchen counter next to me. “I can’t believe my D. is getting married,” she says, still giddy. “There’s so much to plan—.”

Dimitri interrupts her, “Mom, we want to keep this simple. I know this is a big event, but we aren’t going to make a spectacle out of it. Are we clear?” He’s smiling. He adores his mother, but he also knows her well. This could turn into the royal wedding pretty quickly.

She nods. “Of course. You want to keep it simple. Simple can be beautiful, too. It will be perfect. What can I help with? Do you have a date yet?”

Dimitri nods. “August 25th.”

She gasps. “That’s only two months away!” She runs to the calendar on the refrigerator and flips the pages. “And it’s on a
Monday
?” She looks back at us, puzzled.

I intercede, “It’s the anniversary of our first date.”

She smiles and claps her hands. “How romantic. I remember that day well.” She sighs, fondly recalling, “All those lilies and candles. I still have the picture in my phone.”

Dimitri breaks her out of her reverie. “We’d like to have the wedding here at the house if that’s okay with you.”

At this she does start to tear up. She walks over and hugs him again. “Of course. I would be honored to have you two married in our home.”

Dimitri returns the hug. “Actually I was thinking
outside
our home … in the backyard.”

She releases him and wipes her eyes, “Of course, the backyard would be lovely. We can set up chairs and tables by the waterfall, and—”

I interrupt, “And
I
was thinking inside the gallery.”

Sunny looks at me and her smile widens. “The gallery would be absolutely perfect. It’s long and narrow—just like a church. And it’s so white.” She looks at Dimitri and he’s pretend-scowling at me. “But Dimitri doesn’t want it in the gallery?”

He shakes his head.

“
Because?
” she presses.

“The backyard would be better,” he answers quickly.

“You mean your artwork isn’t on display in the backyard, which makes it better.”

His checks blush. “Maybe.” As I look on, I think to myself that it’s cute the way only Sunny can truly embarrass him.

She rubs his shoulder and I can tell already it’s an act of apology. “The backyard would be fabulous, don’t get me wrong, but I’m with Veronica on this one. The gallery would be perfect. It’s the one room in this house that’s truly yours. It’s you, on the most intimate level. Your wedding should take place there.” It’s final.

Dimitri can never say no to Sunny. He gives in. “Okay.”

Sunny has many,
many
ideas. We have to rein her in several times. She clearly isn’t familiar with “simple.” Ice sculptures and horse drawn carriages are
not
simple.

She calls Pedro and shares our news and puts me on the line. He’s such a nice man and he’s more than happy to grant my request—chicken enchiladas,
lots of them—
for our reception. He also recommends an outstanding bakery that has killer cupcakes. The food is going to be amazing.

Sunny wants to take care of the flowers; we hesitantly acquiesce. “Simple,” I keep repeating. “Simple is your new mantra. Simple, simple, simple.”

She smiles. That smile frightens me. I know simple will be stretched unrecognizably to the outer limits of its literal definition.

Dimitri is going to design the artwork for the invitations. They’ll be the greatest invitations ever, so nothing to worry about there.

Sebastian knows a photographer.

I’m ticking items off on my fingers: “We have a date, a location, food, flowers, invitations, and a photographer; that about covers it, right?”

Sunny has her own list in front of her. “I think you forgot a few things, honey.”

This is supposed to be simple, right? “Like what? No cupid ice sculptures, remember?”

She laughs. “Okay, but what about a guest list?”

Dimitri and I look and each and answer in unison: “Small.”

“We want family and close friends only,” Dimitri says. “30 to 35 guests, tops.”

“Okay,” Sunny says, jotting down the figures on her list. “And what about a best man and maid of honor?”

Dimitri nods to Sebastian. “Obviously.”

Sunny asks, “Have you
asked
him?”

Dimitri sighs, it’s exaggerated. “Sebastian, would you do me the honor?”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Yeah, whatever.” Then he smiles genuinely at Dimitri. “You know I wouldn’t miss it.” They bump knuckles across the table.

Sunny nods approvingly and looks to me. “What about you, Veronica?”

“I have something in mind.”

She nods. “Okay. What about the honeymoon?”

Dimitri’s quick to answer. “That one’s all mine.” He winks at me. His mother clucks her tongue but looks pleased.

“Alright then. What are you both going to wear?”

We look at other and shrug. I speak up first. “I’m kind of a jeans girl.”

Dimitri smiles. “Jeans are simple. And sexy. I like it.”

Sunny looks horrified. “Jeans?
At your wedding?
I guess we’ll talk about the dress another day.”

After a few hours of wedding details, Dimitri and I decide to head home. He takes a detour downtown, stopping at a jewelry store. From the manicured bushes out front to the ornate signage and tall windows, I suspect that it’s a fancy jewelry store.
Scary
fancy.

It looks so intimidating I don’t even want to go in. This is the type of place rich men buy their wives and mistresses rings and necklaces that cost more than my house. This isn’t my type of place; this is a whole different world.

He’s opening my door but I don’t want to leave the safety of his car. He bends over and peers inside at me. “Come on, baby.” He holds out his hand.

I take it reluctantly and slowly peel myself from the seat. His grin is so eager that it makes me anxious. “Dimitri, we really don’t need to look for rings here,” I say in a whisper, as if the people inside the store can hear me. “This place looks
way
too expensive.”

Dimitri looks at the front door and back at me. He’s not intimidated at all. He never is …
by anything
. “I did some research last night. This is supposed to be the best place in Denver to buy an engagement ring.”

I’m still whispering, “I don’t need the best. I’m just fine with good. Mediocre, even.” I smile anxiously.

He kisses my forehead. “Don’t be silly. Besides, this is for me too. I’ve never been able to buy you a ring from a store like this. Let me be selfish just this once. Besides
I
gave in on the gallery …” He trails off, wheedling me with his gray eyes. He’s got a countenance that walks a line between a roguish teenager and a mature adult. He’s so sure of himself right now that I can’t deny him.

I huff softly. “Okay, but
please
Dimitri, nothing extravagant. Simple, remember?”

He kisses me on the lips. “Simple.”

We walk in, and I’m terrified we’ll either be ignored or laughed at. We’re just kids. We’re dressed in jeans and T-shirts and—aside from the Porsche parked outside—we hardly look like the type of people who have enough money to even window shop here. Dimitri gives my hand a reassuring squeeze and all my fears vanish as I watch him take control.

He walks up and introduces us to a man in a nicely tailored suit. It’s so easy for him. He’s been conducting his own business since he was fifteen. He knows how to talk to people. It’s not some kind of put on act either. He’s confident, straightforward, witty and charming; and people eat it up. I feel like I’m seeing a different side of him that I’ve never seen. I have seen it of course, but watching him interact in a professional setting with a stranger is different. He’s Dimitri with me, and he’s confident, and straightforward, and witty, and charming, but watching him now is impressive, to say the least, and all kinds of sexy. I forget for a moment that we’re ring shopping.

The salesman, Francois (I have a sneaking suspicion he’s just Frank at home, but Francois sounds better for peddling rings with diamonds the size of my fist) shows us several cases with settings minus the diamonds. Apparently you pick the setting first and then you pick the diamond separately. That way you can pick the exact size and quality you want. The options are unlimited.

Francois takes in my blank expression and mistakenly confuses overwhelmed with dissatisfied. “Miss Smith, if none of these settings pleases you we have designers in house that would be happy to set up a consultation. They can design a custom ring that’s tailored specifically to your taste and style. We wouldn’t want your big day to be any less than absolutely perfect.”

I smile obligatorily in response and I know it looks fake because it feels weird and strained.

This is
way
too fancy.

It’s all too much. I pull Dimitri aside. “Dimitri, these are all
really
beautiful. And I think it’s
really
nice, and just a touch crazy, that you want to drop insane amounts of money on an engagement ring for me. But,” I pause. “I don’t think any of these rings are
me
. Can we forego the whole big, obnoxious engagement ring thing and just buy matching wedding bands instead? I would be paranoid every minute of the day that someone was going to mug me with a fifteen thousand dollar ring on my finger. You shouldn’t wear fifteen thousand dollars. You should put it in the bank … or drive it.”

He smiles, but I can tell that he’s hurt. “I want to show you how much I love you.”

I squeeze his hand. “You show me every day.”

His face relaxes. “Wedding bands, huh?”

I nod.

“You’re sure?”

I kiss his cheek. “Positive.”

He smiles, and it’s real this time. “Okay.” He turns to Francois. “Change of plans, Frank.”

We pick matching platinum bands (no diamonds) and make plans to pick them up a few days before the wedding. They have to be sized. Though Dimitri pays for them with his debit card on the spot, he won’t let me see the total, which is probably good because I’d have an instantaneous aneurism.

He smiles the entire drive home and it makes me happy. “We’re really doing it, aren’t we?” I ask happily.

“Yup, we’re doing this, Mrs. Glenn.”

I correct him, “Mrs. Smith-Glenn.”

He looks at me and raises an eyebrow. “Hyphenated, eh? Progressive. I like it.”

I’m worried. “Really, or you just saying that?”

He nods. “Really.”

“You don’t think it’s too, I don’t know, pretentious?”

“Nope. I like it. It’s your past and your future combined.”

I smile. He gets it. “Exactly. I can’t give up who I am. I’ll always be Veronica Smith.”

“Yes, you will. Forever. I think your parents would be touched by the gesture, Mrs. Veronica Smith-Glenn.”

I grimace. “Wow, it sounds long when you say it like that.”

His hand is resting on my thigh, a gesture that’s recently become comfortable for us again. He squeezes my leg gently. “It’s perfect. It’s who you are.”

The next several weeks are busy. Sunny is consumed with every detail of the wedding, which has been a huge help. I’ve found time most weeks to volunteer with Bob. It takes my mind off the stress of the wedding. We’ve gone to the homeless shelter, to his church, and an assisted living center nearby. I even donated blood for the first time in over a year. It makes me feel good in a way I haven’t felt in a long time. Helping others is something that used to come naturally to me, but somehow I moved away from it … or it moved away from me. Either way, I’m glad it’s back. Plus I get to spend extra time with Bob, which is a bonus. Bob’s like my new best friend. We have a lot in common, which is a bit crazy considering the 50-year age difference. Bob has a quiet wisdom that I admire.