“I’m wondering if we should just elope.” Donovan was at his usual Thursday night appointment at Keane’s pub with his best man and the man assigned the seat at the furthest table from the bridal party.

It was one week before the wedding. While Becca settled after they talked about the wedding being the beginning of firsts for them, she still presented the signs of being a flight risk. 

“What I still don’t get is why you threw in the whole we can break up in six months clause.” Kent neither agreed nor disagreed with Donovan.

“Because every boyfriend she has had promised her happily ever after and with my help blew it within three months.”

“With your help?”

“Only one of them needed my help.”

“Please explain.”

“Present company excluded, she always chose guys that were tools. It was obvious that they were easily distracted. Before social media, “I’d coincidentally plan an outing with her where we’d bust the guy with another girl. After social media, it was easy. Pull up pictures where he’s tagged on another girl’s profile and just drop a subtle hint. Anyway, these guys always presented themselves as Mr. Wonderful. I had to go the opposite direction to keep myself from being in the same category. I said the six months thing to let her know that I know I’m not perfect.”

“What about saying something creative like hey I’m not perfect, but I’ll try my best,” Kent suggested.

“Where were you when it mattered?” Donovan was stressed enough to fall into sarcasm.

“Do you want my help on the honeymoon too,” Kent quipped.

“Hahahahaha!” Keane pointed at Kent while he laughed, “At this rate, you’ll end up at the back table with me. It’ll be the first wedding where the groomsmen are sitting separately from the bridal party.”

The door opened, and Becca, Abigail, and Dina walked in wearing smiles that said they had accomplished something. Becca’s hair looked different. He was used to seeing it tied back in a ponytail that hung to just above her shoulders. It draped down to between her shoulder blades. Perhaps they got their hair done.

“Say something nice, and you’ll get moved back to the front,” Donovan coached.

He met Becca midway to the bar and squeezed her hand in a hello greeting. After all the years of holding back, being honest with her about how he felt was a relief.

Her smile held that cautious distance. She still didn’t believe his intentions, and that was okay. In a matter of time, she’d see that he loved her.

They returned to his spot at the bar to hear Keane ask, “Will it be the usual, ladies? If you want to try something different, we have a new low-calorie wine.”

Donovan blew up. “Are you trying to get me divorced before I’m married?” He took Becca by the hand and stood to leave. “Don’t listen to him.”

“What?” Keane asked. “It’s my newest best seller. All the ladies love it.”

“Is it the Weight Watchers or Skinny Girl brand?” Dina put her purse on the ledge and chose the seat beside it at the bar.

Keane held up his hands as if to say, “I told you so.”

The door opened to introduce another group of customers entering the restaurant. Two hulking men entered. They were accompanied by a diminutive woman whose eyes roamed around and stopped on the distinctive features of the restaurant.

Becca brightened and released Donovan’s hand. She held out her hands in greeting. “I am so glad you made it.”

It had been so long since Donovan had seen Becca’s father and brother, Jonathan and John Jr, he forgot how large the ex-professional football players were. When he lived in Three Creeks, Jonathan Cartwright coached the Three Creeks Badgers to winning three titles. Her brother graduated and went on to play for Penn state and the Steelers until he retired five years ago. 

Becca ushered her family past the hostess station to the bar. Beginning with Abigail, she reintroduced everyone to her family. Her mother, Gayle, nodded and noted something Becca had said about each of them. Saving the man behind the counter for last, she introduced Keane, “This is Donovan’s friend.”

Becca’s father smiled as he said, “The one who called you fat?”

Keane dropped the cup he had been holding. It took everything in Donovan to resist the urge to point at his friend and laugh.

Her brother John Jr. joined the conversation, “Don’t hold it against him. Maybe he isn’t used to seeing women with athletic builds.”

The statement forced Donovan to check out his fiancée. Because she was his fiancée, he was allowed to smile in appreciation at her curves. Even through her loose-fitting clothes, it was obvious that other than her potato chip addiction, she had been dedicated to a healthy lifestyle.

Keane cleared his throat. “So. You’re here for the wedding?”

“Yes. My wife Gayle got the feeling that Becca was feeling the pressures of wedding preparation and insisted we come early and help.”

Donovan didn’t know whether to thank or fear them. What did Becca say that made them feel like she was being pressured?

“We should go take a table.” Becca’s mother curled her arm through her husband’s elbow. “I know us being here this early is a surprise. Donovan, if you don’t have any plans, we’d love to have you join us for dinner.”

If two human brick walls weren’t standing there, Donovan would have wrapped his arm around Becca’s shoulder and gladly accompanied them. Her brother looked like he may have accidentally crushed a couple fingers in a friendly handshake. Donovan shoved his hand into his pocket and said, “I was getting ready to ask Becca what she wanted to do. You’ve answered the question.”

He joined the table to look back at the bar and see four amused faces watching him with Becca’s family. Keane’s smile was the broadest of them all. His friend was up to something, but Donovan didn’t have time to figure it out. Gayle tapped the chair beside her. “Sit by me. We need to catch up on what’s been going on since the last time we were here.”

On first glance, it seemed like the safest seat at the table. A meal later, Donovan learned otherwise. Gayle was the inquisitor. He wouldn’t have been surprised if the other two men handed her a list of questions. The questions began light and easy with “Where are you going for the honeymoon?” and grew progressively heavier. It made sense; they wanted to make sure his intention toward the only daughter in the family was sincere.

“I imagine you’d want to get started on grandchildren right away, with the both of you being older,” her mother suggested.

Donovan had no intention of having children. With them getting married at such a late age it should have been obvious that Becca had similar feelings.

“I’m sure Becca’s told you that we’ve taken the more traditional philosophy of marriage and decided to wait until our honeymoon to get to know each other. Let’s get past that and then we’ll talk children.”

Her father, mother, and brother responded with open mouthed, stunned silence. Becca turned fifty shades of red. For the next couple of minutes, they ate their appetizers in relative silence. When her father regained his voice, he said, “I remember things being different in small towns. I’d forgotten how much. Do you still have interesting community events like you used to?”

“As a matter of fact, we do.” With things falling into his line of expertise, Donovan was ready to hear Becca’s say that they were a good match.

They were in the middle of talking about a chili cook off scheduled in October when Keane stopped by the table with two bowls brimming with freshly fried potato chips. He waved the bowls in the direction of the bar. “I get the feeling that we had a poor first impression over there. I thought I’d stop by with this sampling of your daughter’s favorite item on the menu to smooth things over.”

Becca’s eyes pleaded with Donovan to stop whatever it was Keane planned on doing. Donovan had no idea of what to expect, so he grimaced in anticipation of his friend’s well intended but poorly worded attempts of offering an olive branch to the father of the bride.

Jonathon and Gayle sampled a chip and smiled. “These are good.”

Keane beamed at their approval and began the explanation of his intention. “Food brings everything together.” He scooted into the booth beside Gayle. Just as Becca began chewing on a chip, he said, “With that being said, would you mind asking your daughter if I can come back to the groom’s table. I promise I won’t say anything offensive until after she’s Mrs. Garrison.”

Becca choked on the chip. Her father tapped her back and offered Becca a glass of water. When her cough settled, he replied, “How about this. If you stay away from my daughter long enough for her to make it to the altar. We have a deal.”

Keane held out his hand for a shake and said, “Deal.”