I almost laughed.
Who’s supposed to do my feet?
***
Saturday arrived.
Robert spent the morning asking about his toenails.
“Sarah, when are we doing my feet?”
“Relax. The guests aren’t coming until two. We’ve got plenty of time.”
I knew you’d finally come around.
Robert noticed it. “Another wedding present?”
“Something like that.”
“From who?”
“Me.”
He grinned. “Now I’m curious.”
“You’ll get it later.”
Another wedding present…
***
At twelve forty-five, I spread a towel across my lap.
“Come on, honey. Let’s do those nails.”
“Finally! Think you can finish before everyone arrives?”
“An hour? I’ll manage.”
He removed his socks and placed his feet in my lap.
Let’s do those nails.
I took my time examining his toenails, asking how his mother usually did it.
My phone buzzed.
Daniel: We’re here.
Right on time.
I’d told Robert two. The invitations said one.
Someone knocked.
We’re here.
Robert glanced toward the door. “Who’s that?”
