AN EVEN HOTTER DAY IN AUGUST (Part 2)

Can I wear shorts?

To say I lost it would be an understatement.

It's our wedding. What's wrong with you? Shorts?

I just don't get the big rush.

Fine, forget it.

It just seems all of a sudden.

I didn't dare tell him that I already had a bouquet waiting in the refrigerator.

Or that, one day last June, I'd picked up a white Indian-cotton just-in-case-he-asks dress.

Or that I'd already selected his outfit, having pressed a linen shirt and khakis of his.

Or that I'd made a dinner reservation for the next night at a restaurant overlooking the Santa Monica Bay.

Or that a bottle of champagne lay in the fridge next to the flowers.

No problem, William. Let's just dump the whole idea. We could both be covered on your medical insurance and I could get that new crown I need on my molar, but forget it. My teeth can all fall out. Who needs teeth? It's obvious you're having second thoughts—

Okay, okay, William whispered. He put his hand on my shoulder as I stifled sobs.

I pulled away.

Look, I'm just getting my head around the tomorrow-all-of-a-sudden thing, but by the time we wake up in the morning, I'll be with you one hundred percent.

I flashed back to our first year of dating. Four months into our relationship, William quipped, "Do you think you love me?"

And I'd slipped up. "Yeah, I do."

But he didn't respond in kind and I kicked myself.

Six months in, the phrase "I love you" still had not been uttered by either of us.

Eight months in, he said, "I know I haven't said the L-word yet, but once I do, I'll never stop."

What a weirdo, I thought.

Nine months in, I picked him up at the airport after he had taken a weekend trip. That night, he took my hands and said, "When the plane was taking off, I thought, What if something horrible happened and I hadn't told you my real feelings? And then I couldn't wait to get back here and say I love you, Mel. I really love you."

The benefits of being with a careful shopper suddenly made perfect sense.

And so, as the two of us and the dog made our way home on that Thursday night in August, I knew what William was telling me was true. If he said he'd on board in the morning, he meant it.

Still, my sleep would be uneasy. I'd have to see it to believe it.

Before going to bed, I checked on the flowers in the fridge. They were still fresh and waiting.