“What hair? I’m losing it all. I don’t want to look bald at our wedding.” His hand froze mid-stroke, now warming her waist.

Joey snuggled into him. “I think…babe, are you having a groomzilla moment?”

Grant’s laugh vibrated through her. “I should shower, huh?” he said.

“It’s a bit of an oil spill up there.”

“Okay. I will. But first, why don’t you come here?”

“I’m right here.”

It always thrilled her the way two heads connected in the dark. No fumbling. No straining. A pair of lips found their mate.

She would tell him tomorrow.

Chapter Four

Sarah

Florida
2019

Sarah eased herself to a seat atop her powder-blue duvet and gripped her pantyhose at the waist. It had been a nice dinner with her friends, she thought. And Joey’s visit had, as always, bolstered her spirits. In all, capping off a nice birthday week. But gosh, ninety-three. Ninety-three was incredibly old.

Sarah rolled her pantyhose down over hips that creaked as she walked, over knees diagnosed in new unpronounceable ailments each time she went to the doctor. On the TV on her dresser, two blond girls were bickering. Her pantyhose was nearly off now, dangling from one foot with its toenails painted navy blue. It was her manicurist’s suggestion. Dark polish was in fashion these days, and at ninety-three it couldn’t hurt to channel the young. But did it actually look young, or rather like someone had dropped a refrigerator on her toes?

The girls on TV appeared to reconcile. A man now approached them near a fence in a field. Sarah wished her volume went higher so she could hear the dialogue to figure out which of the blond girls was playing the best-friend role and which was the leading lady this leading man was eyeing.

Then the thing Sarah had to do—tonight, if she could muster the courage—pressed upon her again.

She went to the bathroom and made her eyes squint so she couldn’t see her nude reflection. She reached for her soft pink robe and wrapped it tightly around her waist. Then she widened her eyes just long enough to grapple for her wig, to remove both its clips. Sarah thought she could make out the man on TV saying, “I’d like that very much.” Or maybe it was, “My lawyer will be in touch.” Presumably the latter. Sarah knew how these Hallmark movies went. The man would be a developer, set to demolish the farm left to one of the blond girls as an inheritance from her estranged father. Before long, the farm would be saved and a fairy-tale love would unfold on the heels of a passionate kiss.

Actors didn’t use tongues on Hallmark movies, Sarah had read somewhere. And one could tell.

Oh, it was all far simpler on TV.