this is the sequel to A Night In James Cook Park.

I couldn’t stop grinning. I’d been grinning ever since I’d had asked my new favorite person on a second date—and she’d accepted.

I rustled through his closet, smiling like a maniac clown without makeup. I really had to cut this out or else she would never let me be her boyfriend. 

I reached up to the box full of ties and selected the most formal. Then I reached into a box and grabbed the gift bag I’d gotten for her, the beautiful gift inside.

Waving farewell to my mother, I dashed out the door and made my way to the diner. 

There she was. She was standing under the tree by the door, looking very pretty in a t shirt and leggings. Her long brown hair rustled under her yellow headband as the breeze whispered around her and the leaves on the tree. She saw me coming and smiled. I couldn’t help but smile back.

“Hey, Nat,” I grinned.

“Hey to you too, Jord,” she retorted, smiling. 

“How many times have I told you not to call me Jord?”

“How many times have I told you not to call me Nat?”

“Fair,” I grinned.

“C’mon, lets go. This place has a wicked good pizza.”

“Wait,” I said. “I’ve got something for you.”

“What is it?” She asked curiously.

I pulled out the box and passed it to her. She opened it up to reveal the beautiful blue velvet dress I purchased the other day.

She gasped. “Wow! It’s beautiful. And very pretty.”

“Put it on,” I urged.

She pulled the dress on over her head. Adjusting her headband and straightening her hair, she twirled and looked over at me. “What do you think?”

“You look…radiant,” I said, awed. I knew it would look good on her, but it really sets off her looks and accents her beauty. 

“Oh, good,” she said. “Because every dress I’ve worn before is an eyesore.”

I laughed. “I doubt that. Come on, let’s get that awesome pizza.”

…

Fifteen years and she still hasn’t broken up with me… I can’t believe it.

And now we’re gonna be married. 

I smiled. It was unbelievable, how things changed…or didn’t. Fifteen years to the day we met and I fell for her. She still catches me.

I straightened my tie and looked in the mirror. “How do I look?”

“You look fine, darling,” said Mom. “Just beautiful.” She patted down my hair. “I’m sure you will be very happy with this lovely girl.”

“Can’t believe that my lil bro is getting married,” smirked my sister, who was still acting like she was waaay better than me, even past thirty years old. “She’s way too good for you.”

“Oh, shush,” I said and whacked her.

My best man, who had been my best friend for twenty years, and my soon to be father in law walked in the door after visiting with the bride and her bridesmaids.

“How is she?” I asked.

“Good,” my best man replied. “Everyone is fussing over her hair and she doesn’t really care.”

“That’s my bride,” I responded.

A few minutes later, I was out on the alter, fidgiting nervously as I waited. The flower girl walked down the aisle, a very cute young girl who was my sister’s child. Everyone smiled as she walked past, but my eyes were on the door.

Then Nat stepped out and my breath caught in my throat.

Her smoother dark brown hair was up in a casual bun. It was elegant and beautiful. Her eyes glittered, and she was… beautiful. But the thing that really got me was that she was wearing the same dress.

The blue velvet fabric rustled as she stepped down the aisle. The dress was larger than the one I had given her all those years ago but the design was the same… and the colour was identical.

She stopped in front of me and we stood in front of the alter. I grasped her hands. 

“How do I look?” She asked.

“Radiant,” I whispered back. 

The monologue began. “Do you, Jordan Kandas, take Natalie Brown as your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.”

“And do you, Natalie Brown, take Jordan Kandas to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

“With the power entrusted on me, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

We kissed. I enjoyed every bit of it.

I traced the seams of the dress, feeling the fabric. I flashed back to the day I gave it to her.

“May you always shine with radiance,” I whispered.

She smiled back. “Ditto, Mr. Mushy talk.”

Laughing, we dashed down the aisle, she tossing her bouquet on the way.

We lived happily ever after (sorry about the cheesiness) and no arguments about dishes and children would ever tear us apart.