Jo wanders away, running her hand along the backs of sofas and making a show of checking the fluffiness of every throw pillow she passes. “You should be nice to your mom. Having a mother at all is a gift.”
Says the woman who doesn’t know that my mother used to call her that dirty little Mexican girl next door. Not that I would ever tell Jo that. No need to hurt her feelings over my mother’s nasty streak of bigotry.
God, I need to make sure they don’t meet. I don’t want my mother ruining my chance to find even a sliver of happiness in life.
Happiness?
With Jo?
Where the hell did that come from?
I have to get laid—that’s all there is to it. Jake told me that I should keep it in my pants until after the wedding if I want to make sure Jo goes through with it. So that means if I’m gonna get my rocks off, it’ll have to be with her.
Which is fine by me.
I’ve wanted her since she was still in braces. I’ll just set about doing whatever it takes to make up for lost time.
I catch up to JoJo and take her hand since I’m under restriction. “Let’s go look at mattresses. I need a bed. We need a bed.”
She pulls up short. “I have a bed. We don’t need anything, except maybe some food in the fridge. Yes, food. That’s what we need.”
I lead her through the store to the bedding department.
“Let’s see…how do we like this one?” I pick her up, tossing her onto the nearest mattress.
Her eyes go wide as she bounces into the softness of the pillow-top. “Tyson Masters!”
“Josephina Jordan!” I throw myself onto the one next to hers. I land with an oomph on the hard surface. “Help me figure out which ones we want. Definitely not this one. It’d be like sleeping on a billiard table.”
I roll off the extra-firm bed, readying myself to take a flying leap onto a more promising looking candidate.
“Sir, can I be of some assistance?” A salesman weaves his way through the department toward us, holding up his hand in an attempt to garner my attention.
I stage whisper to JoJo, “Uh oh. The watchdog has been alerted. Quick, let’s see how many we can try before he stops us.”
“Will you actually buy anything here?”
“I’ll buy quite a bit if we find something we like.”
“In that case…” A light comes into Jo’s eyes as she scoots to the edge of the mattress. “I’ll race you.”
With a giggle, she raises her hands above her head and falls backward onto the next bed over.
We take turns finding new ways to flop onto the beds. Jo does so with ballerina style and grace. My method is more like taking a plunge into a pool. Some feel like belly flopping into water from a great height.
Other customers look at us as though we’ve lost our minds, but that just makes it more fun.
We manage to stay a few beds ahead of the sales guy as he winces and shakes his head and tries desperately to get our attention. By the time we’ve made it through the first three rows of beds, he stops chasing us. Crossing his arms, he plasters a pleasant, even if obviously fake, smile onto his face and waits.
At the end of the last row, I hold up my hand. Jo gives me a high-five and, like we’re eleven years old again, we automatically trip into our secret handshake. Up high, down low. Back slap, temple tap. Knuckle-bump double, ending with a hat tip to trouble.
By the time we finish, we’re grinning.
JoJo shakes her head. “I can’t believe I remembered it all.”
I hook my elbow around her neck, pulling her forehead into my chest and lightly rubbing my knuckles against her scalp. “We only did that about a million times, so I’m not surprised in the least.”
This time, it’s the sales manager who approaches, while his subordinate watches from a distance.
Meeting the man half-way, I point out five of the mattresses we liked. “I’ll take all of those in king-size. Start the paperwork. We have a lot of other furniture to pick out.”
I turn to Jo. “C’mon, let’s go check out the sofas.”
In the car, on the way home, I fold my fingers over hers. My thumb bumps across the ridges of her knuckles in a slow rhythm. Jo’s hand rests in mine as though it belongs there.
It fits.
I bring her wrist to my lips. “Thank you for helping me today.”
Her smile is like a rainbow, rare and beautiful, meant to be savored and celebrated. “I had fun. It surprises me, but I did.”
Her words warm something deep inside—something I didn’t think existed.
“Tell me about Jo Jordan’s life since high school.”
“Well, it’s probably not what you’d have expected it to be.”