Crazy Beginnings and Happy Endings
ninety-seven
"Brylyn?" Max called from the front door. He had just returned from a five day road trip.
"Kitchen," I called back.
"Hey, Sweets," Max said from behind me. He kissed my neck before turning me around and kissing my lips.
"You'd think we haven't seen each other in a few days," I chuckled, turning back to the stove. I was trying a new stew recipe for the cafe.
"I missed you so much," Max said. "And something smells amazing."
"I missed you, too," I replied. "I'm trying this new stew recipe, I hope it tastes as good as it smells."
"Stew?" Max asked. "For the cafe?"
"Yes, for the cafe," I nodded. "But first we have to try it out."
"I like that idea," Max grinned. "I like when you want to try something new for the cafe."
"What?" I asked, placing a hand over my heart in feign shock. "You don't like when I cook the same meals over and over again?"
"I never said that," Max said, shaking his head. "I just meant that I like trying something new every once in a while."
"I know, love," I smiled.
"You know, we have to mail those invites sometime," Max reminded me.
"I can do that on the way to the cafe tomorrow," I suggested. "Unless you would rather do it."
"I would probably forget," Max admitted.
"You would really forget to invite people to your own wedding?" I raised my eyebrow.
"Well, yea, probably," Max shrugged. "I'm really excited."
"About?" I asked.
"Getting married to a beautiful woman," Max smirked.
"Who could that be?"
"Oh, just old Mrs. Jenkins from down the block," Max joked. "You know how lonely she's been since Mr. Jenkins passed."
"Max, Mrs. Jenkins is like a hundred and three," I said, shaking my head.
"That doesn't mean she isn't beautiful," Max defended.
"Mr. Jenkins hated you," I reminded him.
"Yea, he thought I was a 'dirty shirt'," Max said, his eyes glazing over as he went off to dreamland.
"A what?" I laughed.
"A dirty shirt," Max frowned a bit. "I don't actually know what that means, but I don't think it is anything nice."
"He was British, wasn't he?" I questioned.
"I think so," Max nodded.
I couldn't help laughing.
"What?" Max asked. "What's so funny?"
"I had a couple British friends in New York," I explained. "I know exactly what Mr. Jenkins was saying."
"What is it?" Max asked.
"You don't want to know," I said, still laughing.
"Please, Brylyn?" he begged.
"No," I shook my head. "Now go get ready to eat."
"Fine," Max said, shuffling off to the bathroom to wash up.
Minutes later, Max returned and grabbed a bowl of stew and a loaf of bread, before going to the table and starting to eat.
"Hungry?" I asked.
"For your cooking?" Max gave me a look. "Duh!"
I chuckled, shaking my head. I grabbed my own bowl of stew and sat down beside Max.
"You know, we are getting married before our three year," Max pointed out, between bites.
"Your point?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I was just saying," Max shrugged. "I can't believe I agreed to get married on the thirteenth."
"Are you superstitious?" I smirked.
"For some things, yes," Max told me. "I don't really believe that thirteen is an unlucky number, but you never know."
"It's my lucky number," I informed him.
"That's what I thought," Max nodded. "Will your parents come?"
"Definitely," I said. "I don't think they would miss this for the world."
"Have you asked Nicola to be your Maid of Honour?"
"Not yet," I shook my head. "I'm calling her tomorrow. Realistically, we should have done some planning while she was here, not two weeks before Christmas. Then I could have asked her in person."
"I have a feeling it's not going to matter to her," Max chuckled. "I'm almost positive she will say yes."
"I hope your right," I smiled. "Have you talked to the Letang yet?"
"No, I don't want to say something and then the rest of the guys feel left out," Max replied.
"Max, they are going to feel left out when they come to the wedding and see Letang standing with you and your two brothers," I said, matter of factually.
"Good point," Max said, thinking about it. "Maybe I'll stop by tomorrow after I drop you off at work."
"Whatever floats your boat, love," I shrugged. I got up and grabbed the empty dishes, taking them to the kitchen to rinse off and put in the dish washer.
"You haven't talked to Vero or Penny yet, have you?" Max asked, following me.
"Vero is stopping by the cafe tomorrow," I told him. "I'm going to ask her then. Penny works tomorrow, so I have all day to ask her."
"Ok," Max nodded.
"Kitchen," I called back.
"Hey, Sweets," Max said from behind me. He kissed my neck before turning me around and kissing my lips.
"You'd think we haven't seen each other in a few days," I chuckled, turning back to the stove. I was trying a new stew recipe for the cafe.
"I missed you so much," Max said. "And something smells amazing."
"I missed you, too," I replied. "I'm trying this new stew recipe, I hope it tastes as good as it smells."
"Stew?" Max asked. "For the cafe?"
"Yes, for the cafe," I nodded. "But first we have to try it out."
"I like that idea," Max grinned. "I like when you want to try something new for the cafe."
"What?" I asked, placing a hand over my heart in feign shock. "You don't like when I cook the same meals over and over again?"
"I never said that," Max said, shaking his head. "I just meant that I like trying something new every once in a while."
"I know, love," I smiled.
"You know, we have to mail those invites sometime," Max reminded me.
"I can do that on the way to the cafe tomorrow," I suggested. "Unless you would rather do it."
"I would probably forget," Max admitted.
"You would really forget to invite people to your own wedding?" I raised my eyebrow.
"Well, yea, probably," Max shrugged. "I'm really excited."
"About?" I asked.
"Getting married to a beautiful woman," Max smirked.
"Who could that be?"
"Oh, just old Mrs. Jenkins from down the block," Max joked. "You know how lonely she's been since Mr. Jenkins passed."
"Max, Mrs. Jenkins is like a hundred and three," I said, shaking my head.
"That doesn't mean she isn't beautiful," Max defended.
"Mr. Jenkins hated you," I reminded him.
"Yea, he thought I was a 'dirty shirt'," Max said, his eyes glazing over as he went off to dreamland.
"A what?" I laughed.
"A dirty shirt," Max frowned a bit. "I don't actually know what that means, but I don't think it is anything nice."
"He was British, wasn't he?" I questioned.
"I think so," Max nodded.
I couldn't help laughing.
"What?" Max asked. "What's so funny?"
"I had a couple British friends in New York," I explained. "I know exactly what Mr. Jenkins was saying."
"What is it?" Max asked.
"You don't want to know," I said, still laughing.
"Please, Brylyn?" he begged.
"No," I shook my head. "Now go get ready to eat."
"Fine," Max said, shuffling off to the bathroom to wash up.
Minutes later, Max returned and grabbed a bowl of stew and a loaf of bread, before going to the table and starting to eat.
"Hungry?" I asked.
"For your cooking?" Max gave me a look. "Duh!"
I chuckled, shaking my head. I grabbed my own bowl of stew and sat down beside Max.
"You know, we are getting married before our three year," Max pointed out, between bites.
"Your point?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I was just saying," Max shrugged. "I can't believe I agreed to get married on the thirteenth."
"Are you superstitious?" I smirked.
"For some things, yes," Max told me. "I don't really believe that thirteen is an unlucky number, but you never know."
"It's my lucky number," I informed him.
"That's what I thought," Max nodded. "Will your parents come?"
"Definitely," I said. "I don't think they would miss this for the world."
"Have you asked Nicola to be your Maid of Honour?"
"Not yet," I shook my head. "I'm calling her tomorrow. Realistically, we should have done some planning while she was here, not two weeks before Christmas. Then I could have asked her in person."
"I have a feeling it's not going to matter to her," Max chuckled. "I'm almost positive she will say yes."
"I hope your right," I smiled. "Have you talked to the Letang yet?"
"No, I don't want to say something and then the rest of the guys feel left out," Max replied.
"Max, they are going to feel left out when they come to the wedding and see Letang standing with you and your two brothers," I said, matter of factually.
"Good point," Max said, thinking about it. "Maybe I'll stop by tomorrow after I drop you off at work."
"Whatever floats your boat, love," I shrugged. I got up and grabbed the empty dishes, taking them to the kitchen to rinse off and put in the dish washer.
"You haven't talked to Vero or Penny yet, have you?" Max asked, following me.
"Vero is stopping by the cafe tomorrow," I told him. "I'm going to ask her then. Penny works tomorrow, so I have all day to ask her."
"Ok," Max nodded.
♠ ♠ ♠
I don't know if I like this one...give me some feedback please.Check out my other stories, as well:
Reunited
What A Beautiful Day
Also, the British slang 'shirt' means a male nightclubber whose ideal night out will be to drink excessively, make sexual advances towards women and complete the night with a drunken brawl. Invariably their attire includes a dressy shirt, often without a tie.