Dan knew Jo had realized he wasn't playing games as soon
as
he saw her striding down Main St.
Through the plate-glass storefront she looked like a
gunfighter at the OK corral, purposeful, with a determined
set to her delicate chin as she steeled herself to shoot
down the buddy who'd gone loco.
Knowing her so well, he could even see she was a little
frightened that he was so willfully destroying the status
quo. So was he.
"Earth to Daniel, can we concentrate please?" He
returned his attention to Barry, who was rifling through
the racks of suits labeled 'special occasions.' "So
it's a
definite no to the cummerbund and bow tie?"
He'd come in to rent a wedding suit and been inundated
with choices...satin or grosgrain lapels, cummerbund or
waistcoat, bow tie or cravat.
"You know me, Baz. A man of simple tastes." Except in
women. "You choose."
Dan turned back to the window. Jo stood at the traffic
lights, arms folded, foot tapping impatiently as she waited
for the walk signal.
The last time he'd seen her - at Auckland Hospital
after
the funerals - she'd been recovering from surgery on a
rotator cuff injury from a fall on her shoulder. Even
shattered by grief Dan had seen she wasn't well enough to
hear what he was going through so he'd said he was coping.
They sat quietly, feeding the birds with the muffins he'd
bought and couldn't eat and he'd held her hand like a
lifeline. Maybe the seed of this obsession had been sown
then.
Barry's exasperated voice broke into his
reverie. "Daniel Jansen, I've said the same thing three
times." His friend planted his hands on slim hips. "Black
or charcoal gray for the stroller coat?"
"Charcoal gray." Outside Jo had been waylaid by a well-
wisher. He watched her gesticulate, shake her head in
denial. And smiled. "The color of the bride's eyes when
she's pissed."
"We need a contrasting color for the waistcoat and
tie."
Barry flicked through the racks. "Taupe is hot this
season."
Dan was momentarily diverted. "What the hell color is
taupe?
"Fawn." Barry pulled out a waistcoat to show him. "Is
the bride going to be in white in ivory? You don't want
clashes on the day."
"I think the clashes might be earlier then that." The
anemic sun caught her short auburn curls. The new-look
short hairstyle suited her, feathering around her
cheekbones.
"So the waistcoat...full-back or back-less?"
"Full-back sounds more manly."
Barry grinned. "Not secure in your masculinity,
sweetie?"
"Not with my bride bearing down on us. Hide the
scissors."
The bell above the door jangled and Jo swept in. "What
the hell is going on?" she demanded.
"We were discussing taupe," he said mildly.
Barry glanced from one to the other. "He wasn't
supposed
to come without you, was he, the naughty boy...Jo, I like
your suit...What's the label?"
"Karen Walker." Her gaze took in the row of tuxedos
and
narrowed as it returned to Dan. "This farce has gone far
enough."
"Now why can't you just be swept away by the romance
of
it all?" Dan complained. "Baz, forget taupe. Give me a
waistcoat in silver."
Jo intercepted the handover. "Oh yeah, very romantic.
Organizing a wedding without the consent of the bride."
Dan
started reaching in his jean pocket. "And if you bring out
the damn beer mat again, Jansen, I'll ram it down your
throat." She handed the silver waistcoat back to Barry.
"Of
course he's not serious."
Dan raised his brows. "Why aren't I?"
"I don't even know why we're having this
conversation."
Exasperated she turned on him. For one, I'm not interested
in marriage and kids anymore. To anyone. For two, you never
were."
"Groom's prerogative to change his mind." Dan reached
past her for the waistcoat. "But not the bride's."
Jo caught his hand in a death grip. "I'm trying to be
diplomatic here."
He laughed. So did Barry.
"I'm making a list of aiders and abettors," she
warned
and Barry looked to him for guidance. Dan freed his hand
from Jo's and gestured for the waistcoat.
Barry dithered. "You're both my friends...I don't
know
whose side to take."
"Mine," Jo ordered.
Dan crooked one finger. Barry gave him the
garment. "Sorry, Jo, he's brawn; you're mainly bluster.
And
sweetie, he really does want to marry you."
"Why are you doing this?" There was bewilderment in
her
voice as she turned back to him.
Walking over to the mirror, Dan held the waistcoat
against his chest. "You want a family; I'm ready to
settle
down. Who better to marry than with the only woman I've
ever had a halfway decent relationship with? It's a win-
win
for both of us."
She gave a strangled laugh. "Marriage isn't a business
deal. There's a little matter of love?"
"We love each other."
"Platonically!"
"That means it will last."
"For God's sake, Dan, get real. We've had fifteen
years
of being grown-ups when we could have got together and we
never have. Doesn't that tell you something?"
"Yeah, that timing is everything." He smiled at
her. "Hit on me again now."
A rare blush colored her cheeks. "We don't talk about
that."
"We haven't talked about it." Dan shrugged on the
waistcoat. "That doesn't mean either of us forgot...Baz,
you look like a man in need of a coffee. Give us five
minutes, will you?"
He waited until their buddy left the shop then
said, "Funny isn't it? At the time I was outraged that my
best friend was coming on to me. But I never could get that
image out of my head." His voice grew husky. "The way
your breasts looked under that chiffony thing-"
"Don't!" She turned away and all he could see was her
profile as she began spacing a row of jackets. "...Don't
build a future on one drunken pass I barely remember."
He did up the buttons on the waistcoat. " You suggested
the marriage contract when you were drunk; you hit on me
when you were drunk... Maybe your subconscious was trying
to tell you something."
She scoffed. "Yes, stop drinking cocktails...I don't
get
this sudden desire for matrimony. Didn't you say you'd
never get married?"
"No, I said there was plenty of time." In the mirror
some idiot was standing in jeans, a flannel shirt and a
shiny silver-gray waistcoat.
There was a pregnant silence. "And you learned
different," she said in a low voice.
"Yeah, I learned different." Dan unbuttoned and took
off
the vest, his fingers leaving faint traces of cold sweat on
the satin back.
As a soldier he'd accepted his mortality. But his troop-
mate's deaths had rammed the lesson home on an emotional
level that was hard to bear. "I can't bring Steve and Lee
back but I can honor their memory by making sure I live big
for all of us." Live like it matters. "Quit flitting from
woman to woman and make my life count...settle down." He
tossed the waistcoat aside, tried on another one in
black. "Jeez, a moustache and I'd look like Wyatt Earp in
this thing."
Shrugging it off, he reached for a coathanger and
replaced it on the rack. "When I packed up my stuff and
found that beer mat I got to thinking, It's not a stupid
idea marrying your best friend. You already know each
other's faults. And all the boring bits are taken care
of,"
he grinned. "Respect, commitment, loyalty. Which leaves
the
fun stuff to work on, like hot sex."
He looked over at her, his smile fading. "Given a do-
over, Jo, I wouldn't have turned you down."
"But you don't get a do-over." Her face was pale, her
gaze steady. "You said I'd be relieved you rejected me
when
I sobered up, and you were right." She took a deep
breath. "I'm sorry if the tragedy made you wish
different,
but I want to leave our friendship as it is. And as I've
already said, I don't want a family anymore."
He watched the pulse beating fast in her throat. "I
don't believe you."
"It doesn't matter... I'm not marrying you."
Dan picked up the silver waistcoat and re-hung it. "You
need some time to get used to the idea," he said. "So
here's the deal. I'll organize the wedding, all you have
to
do is decide whether to show up."
"Of course I'm not going to show up!"
"See that's one of your faults - snap judgements," he
said kindly. "Try and keep an open mind. My failing, as
you
know, is stubbornness. Once I've got an idea in my head,
there's no shifting it. Which sets us up for one hell of
an
interesting few weeks, doesn't it?"
As she stared at him speechless, Barry stuck his head
around the door, took silence as safety and came in,
holding a to-go coffee.
"All sorted?"
"Nearly," said Dan. "So honey, you weren't serious
about
our bridesmaids wearing pink were you?"
"Pink!" Barry threw up his hands. "Jo, with your red
hair?"
His bride finally found her voice. "I am not marrying
you!" Cheeks flushed, she advanced on him. "Quit fooling
around and tell Baz."
"Uh huh." Dan put on a top hat, tilting it as he
checked
his reflection. "I'm practicing being a
husband...soothing
noises, not really listening."
Jo knocked the top hat off his head and with a squawk,
Barry scrambled to rescue it.
"You seriously want to play chicken?" she asked
incredulously. "With me?"
"I was thinking tonight to start working on the fun
stuff."
She turned on her heel and wrenched open the door.
Dingalingaling.
He went to the doorway, waiting until she was fifty
yards down the road. "If you really weren't interested
you
wouldn't have jumped me in Auckland."
Glancing at interested passers-by, she hurried back to
hiss. "I was drunk!"
"It only occurred to me afterwards but the only time
I've seen you drunk like that is when you're in trouble."
She looked away. "That's ridiculous."
"One of the reasons we became mates when we were five
years old was because you'd decided I'd be useful for
carrying things...I'm still good at sharing the load, Jo."
She held his gaze. "Help me. My best friend's crazy."
Dan leaned against the doorjamb. "How did your business
meeting go?"
Jo blinked. "Couldn't be better."
"I hear Nan's been diagnosed with dementia."
Jo lost her composure. "I wish people would mind their
damn business."
"I'll tell Mom that."
Her expression became hopeful. "She can't approve of
this."
"See how much you've already got in common?"
"Ahhh!" She walked away, came back. For the first time
he saw pleading in her eyes. "Dan, you're my escape
buddy,
don't do this to us."
"Did you ever see that Costner movie, Field of Dreams?
About the guy who built a baseball field in a cornfield. It
didn't make sense even to him. He only knew he had to do
it."
"That's the dumbest reason I ever heard."
Barry joined him at the door and they looked after Jo's
retreating figure. "What was that about?"
"Bridal nerves."
"It didn't actually sound like she wanted to marry
you,
Dan, " he ventured.
"No," he admitted. "But I've got twenty-two days to
change her mind."
"So you have a Plan B, then?"
Dan snorted. "Mate, I expect to hit the end of the
alphabet before the wedding day."