Matrimony Homies

36: Emotional (Harry)

"No," Loren insists, literally stomping her foot. "You have to be here, Gemma. We cannot choose your wedding dress without you."

Looking up from my breakfast of coffee and eggy bread, I momentarily mourn getting showered and dressed already. If my sister isn't showing up, I'd rather climb back into bed with Loren. Last night's frantic orgasms had only been surpassed by this morning's calmer, slower joining. We were careful to not wake Minerva this time, content to murmur and soothe each other with gentle words rather than a rowdy, loud coupling.

"Yes, I know you and I trade clothes all the time, Gems, but this is a freaking wedding dress." The exasperation in my girlfriend's voice is clear as she practically growls at the bride. "Fine," Loren huffs, "but I don't want to hear any complaints when you put on the dress and it lands just under your hoohah and has nipple cutouts." There's a pause, and then her voice softens, "I know you do. I'm just disappointed because I wanted to spend time with my bestie. Promise me we'll get together soon. I miss you." While my sister replies, I watch Loren nodding her head in agreement, tucking that strand of hair behind her ear and then untucking it repeatedly. "Feel better soon. Let Michal take care of you. Love you."

She disconnects the phone and turns to me, and I spy the sadness in her eyes. Immediately, I rise and walk to her, holding out my arms. She steps into them, sniffling into my shoulder. Whether there are actual tears or not, I don't know, but if she's not actively crying, her heart is hurting.

"I miss her," Loren sobs onto my shirt, and I'm grateful that she doesn't wear eye makeup. Otherwise, my white Bode shirt would be irrevocably stained.

Ineffectually, I pat her on the back, muttering words that are meant to sound calming. Her dismay at not getting to spend time with Gemma breaks my heart. The two have been nearly inseparable for as long as I've known them – which is most of my life. On the other hand, I'm not going to complain about keeping Loren to myself this weekend. Partly because I'm selfish, but also because I feel confident my sister would be able to sense that something has fundamentally shifted between Loren and me, and I'm not sure I'm ready for that shoe to drop yet.

"Hey, why don't we meet in London next weekend?" I pacify her. "We can try out bakeries today and look for dresses next weekend."

Sniffling, she lifts her head and swipes at her eyes. "Really?" When I nod, her face becomes downtrodden again, her lower lip jutting out.

"What?"

"If we are in London, then Gemma might expect a sleepover with me."

"Yeah? So? Your sleepovers are legendary."

"But then I won't get to have a sleepover with you," she wails, and I tilt my head to examine her.

"You're emotional." As the tears drip from her wobbly chin, I pull her in for another hug. "It's all going to be okay, Lor. I promise."

"Thanks, H." She cries for a few more minutes, and I'm content to simply hold her, rocking both of us on our feet until her tears trickle to a stop and she pulls away from me. "Okay," she smiles precariously, "Let me reapply my face, and then we can go."

"Merry Christmas, Freak!" I scream in Loren's face when I answer the door, and for good measure I throw confetti at her. She grins as the pieces of green and red and gold cut sparkly paper fall into her hair.

"Thanks, Dork!" She's carrying three packages wrapped in newspaper with string around them, and I stand aside to allow her into the house.

"Loren's here!" I call before running into the living room, yelling back at Loren over my shoulder, "Come on, Freak! We got 'Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban' on DVD!"