Ben chuckles. “You didn’t RSVP for your own brother’s wedding?”
“I kinda lost the invite,” I admit. “But obviously I’ll be there. I wouldn’t have spent money on a bridesmaid dress just to blow it off.”
“It’s been a while since I’ve been to a wedding,” Ben says. “My cousin got married two years ago, but that’s it. Most of my friends are already married or living up the single life with no intentions on settling down.”
“Same here,” I say. “My best friend got married like right out of college.” I risk my character standing still so I can grab the glass bottle from the coffee table and drink the last of my beer.
“Being in a wedding is fun,” he goes on. “If you like the person.”
“Hah, yes. Erin’s wedding was a blast. It was small yet very elegant with a subtle Star Wars theme.”
He looks at me, raising an eyebrow. “How the hell do you have an elegant Star Wars wedding?”
I smile. “It was like a regular wedding but with small Star Wars stuff added throughout. Half of it probably went unnoticed by half the people. But things stick out when you’re a fan, ya know?”
“Yeah,” he says and I remember that he mixed up Star Trek and Star Wars when we first met. Ugh. Such a shame. “I’ve never been to a themed wedding.”
“I go back and forth with wanting one and wanting something classic,” I say, still focused on the game. “Something fairytale-ish would be perfect. Like Disney Princess approved. But honestly, I’m not too concerned about the decorations. That’s not what it’s about, right?”
“In the end, not at all. I have a buddy who took years paying off his wedding. The credit card debt almost ended their marriage.”
“Yikes. It’s just not worth it. I want to get married because I’m in love and don’t want to spend the rest of my life without that person, not because I want a fancy party.”
“Me too,” Ben says. “I don’t have many requests for my wedding, whenever it happens. Just an open bar and All the Single Ladies is not to be played.”
I laugh. “Agreed. And no Sexy Back. Why are those two older songs go-tos for DJs?”
“I am okay with the chicken-dance song.”
“Oh, you have to have the chicken dance.” I laugh then realize we just discussed something mega important in a way that felt completely natural. We turn our attention back to the game, playing for another few minutes before Ben’s mom calls again. With a sign he sets his controller down and answers it.
“Hey, Mom,” he says then falls silent as he listens. I hear a female on the other end, talking fast—too fast for me to understand. Then Ben stands, saying something in Japanese, grabs the empty pizza box, and goes into the kitchen. I finish the round and stop the game. I can hear Ben talking to his mom, and although he’s speaking a different language, it sounds like he’s trying to calm her down. A minute later, he hangs up and comes back into the room, eyebrows pushed together.
“Everything okay?” I ask, taking his hands in mine as he plops onto the couch.
“Yeah,” he says, but sounds distracted. “My mom can be a little high strung sometimes. She’s a worrier over small things.”
“I can relate,” I say with a smile. I let go of Ben’s hands and gather the empty beer bottles, taking them into the kitchen. “Do you recycle?” I ask, feeling the floor vibrate behind me as he comes into the room.
“Yeah,” he repeats and pulls out a drawer that holds both the garbage and the recycling. “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”
“It was easy,” I say. “Can I have some water?”
“Of course.” He grabs a glass and fills it from the fridge. I down half in seconds. He lets Harumi out, stepping onto the porch. He seems upset, like whatever his mother called about really is weighing on him more than he’s letting on. I finish the water, go into the bathroom to pee, then go out on the back porch with him. He’s sitting on the steps, throwing a worn-out tennis ball for the old dog.
I take a seat next to him. Ben wraps an arm around me, holding me tight against him for a few seconds before he speaks.
“It’s a nice night.”
“Very nice,” I say. “I love summer nights like this. It makes me want to move somewhere warm where it’s always like this.”
“Hah, yes. Winter is coming sooner than we think.”
“Winter is coming,” I repeat, mentally smiling at his unknown reference. Harumi brings the ball back, her gait a slow trot. I reach forward and grab it, throwing it a few yards. I don’t want to make her run too far. “I’m so not looking forward to shoveling my driveway or clearing snow off the car when I leave work.”