They arrived in Nashville a little after five in the morning, and Emma was asleep in the passanger seat as the truck rolled into a Marriot parking lot. Brian killed the ignition and looked over at her, leaning against the window, her hat tilted, providing a barrier between her head and the cold window. A small smile was resting on her lips as she slept and Brian wondered what she was dreaming about. He reached over and laid a hand on her hand softly, running his fingers over her knuckles. "Em," he whispered, "Emma, we're there."
She stirred and blinked her eyes open. She looked around herself, clearly disoriented, and sat up quickly, her hat falling off in the motion, and when she looked at Brian and her eyes widened. "Where are we?" she asked.
"The Nashville Marriott," Brian replied, "It's quarter past five, I figured we could get some sleep."
Emma nodded. "Yeah," she said. "That sounds good." She reached for the door handle. Brian reached over and put her hat back on her head. She reached up and grabbed the brim, "Thanks," she said, her voice quiet and mumbling.
They got out of the truck and walked across the parking lot. Emma was wobbly as she walked, and Brian quickly came up alongside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders to steady her. This is how they walked into the lobby, where Brian greeted the receptionist with a joke and asked for a room for the rest of the morning. The receptionist handed him a room key and Brian guided Emma to the elevator and they rode it to the third floor where their room was waiting for them.
Brian opened the door and Emma stumbled in. Brian hit the light and followed her. As he came around the corner, though, he stopped dead in his tracks. There was only one queen-sized bed. Emma had come to the same realization and stood on the opposite side of the room, staring at the same problem. She looked at Brian. "Now what?"
Brian sighed, "I'll call the receptionist and see if they have a room with two beds," he replied.
Emma nodded and lowered herself into the chair by the desk and opened her purse. She started fishing around in her bag for her pill box, and came up triumphant. She disappeared into the bathroom to get a cup of water while Brian spoke to the receptionist. When the bathroom light switched on, Emma stared at herself in the mirror. Her narrow cheek bones stared back, her eyes blood shot and bagged from the long night, and her lipstick smudged a bit on her chin. She grabbed a tissue and blotted away the lipstick and washed her face with a complimentary soap.
Brian knocked on the door, "They only have the one room available," he called in, "Do you want to go somewhere else?"
Emma stared into the mirror at the bags under her eyes. "No," she called back.
"I don't mind sleeping on the floor," Brian offered. She heard him walk away from the door.
Emma rubbed some cool water on the skin under her eyes before she came out of the bathroom. Brian was taking the extra pillows and blanket out of the closet by the door. "You aren't sleeping on the floor," Emma said, "That's stupid."
"But -"
"Brian it's not like we're having sex, we're just sleeping." He watched as she crawled onto the bed, pulled the sheets down and slid under, staying on the left side of the bed. She looked at him. "Well?" His mouth felt dry. He nodded and walked over slowly, pulling down the right side's blankets, and lowered himself down into the blankets, too. Emma pulled the blankets up over them. "Good night, Brian," she offered.
"Actually," he murmured, already feeling sleep coming on, "It's morning."
Emma could feel Brian's breath on her skin when she woke up. His arm was around hers, his face buried into the nape of her neck, their knees bent together. She could feel every muscle in his toned arm, feel every curve and bump of his body pressed into hers. Her heart started racing. She'd woken up in this exact position once before - twenty years ago - in the bed of Brian's truck, under the stars.
Her eyes travelled to the tiny alarm clock on the bedside table. It was after noon. They'd slept for a long time. She shifted her weight and he woke up and rolled away from her quickly, his absence leaving a definite chill in the air around her. Emma sat up. Brian got up off the bed completely and disappeared into the bathroom, mumbling to himself.
Emma hugged her knees to her chest.
When Brian came back out, he leaned against the wall. "I just realized we don't have any toothbrushes," he said. "Or clothing changes. And I don't have my meds." He frowned.
"Yeah, we didn't plan this very well," Emma agreed.
Brian sighed and pulled his wallet out of his pocket. She watched as he fished through it. "Luckily I can call my doc and he'll send a prescription to a drug store here," he muttered. "We'll go buy some clothes..." he pulled out an index card with phone numbers on it.
Emma laughed.
"What?" Brian looked up.
"You still use an index card in your wallet for your numbers," she said.
"Yeah? So?"
"So you used to do that in high school," Emma laughed, "And now you have a big fancy cell phone that can hold more numbers than you can dream and you still have everything on an index card."
Brian laughed, "It's easier."
Emma watched him pull out his cell and dial the number to his doctor's office. He spun around and started pacing as he talked to the doctor. She stayed where she was, hugging her knees to her chest, and patiently waiting. When he'd finished the call, he turned back to her. "Okay, they're sending it to the Walgreens. I gotta ask the receptionist where that is and we'll ask her about a mall or something, too, and get some clothes..." he tucked the index card back into his wallet and pocketed it.
"I can't afford any cl--"
"I'll buy, relax," he said. He paused, "Breakfast. We need food."
"I didn't want you spending more money," Emma complained.
Brian raised an eyebrow, "I'm about to marry you," he said, "I think I can buy you some clothes and breakfast."
Emma bit her lip.
An hour later, Brian had picked up his pills and they'd found the mall. They were sitting in the food court, breakfast from McDonalds nearly fully consumed, the remaining wrappers and cups on a plastic tray in front of them. Emma ripped apart the wrapper on her straw and stared at the little pile she'd made, while Brian chewed the last of the hash browns. "You ready to get some shopping done?" Brian asked her as his straw made the noises of sucking up the last of the orange juice from his cup. He shook it, like that might make more juice appear, and tried again, but still nothing, so he put the cup down and wiped his hands.
Emma nodded.
They chucked the wrappers and replaced the tray on the stack at the McD's counter and Brian led the way into the mall. They turned into an American Eagle store and Brian told her, "Whatever you like," and disappeared to the men's side.
Emma's fingers slid over the different fabrics. She picked up a pair of jeans and was looking at sweatshirts when she realized she was picking the outfit she was going to get married in. She put the sweatshirt back on the shelf and glanced over in Brian's direction. She was selecting a polo shirt and shorts. Still, she didn't want to get married in jeans and a tank. She found a nice white peasant-style blouse and a camisole and was looking at the jewelry -specifically at a pair of earrings shaped like feathers- when Brian came up behind her.
"You want those?" he asked.
Emma shook her head, "This is too much already. I'm just looking."
Brian ducked around the side of the jewelry display. "What ring size are you?" he asked.
"Brian -"
"You can't get married without a ring," he said.
Emma shook her head, "I don't need a ring..."
"I'll guesstimate seven, then," he said.
Emma sighed. "I'm a six actually."
Brian smiled and started fishing through a little basket of rings. He pulled one out - a gaudy looking thing that looked like a class ring. He laughed. "How about this?"
Emma shook her head, "Oh God no," she laughed.
Brian paused. "Actually, no, I know just the ticket." He grinned. He pulled out his wallet, and handed Emma a credit card. "Seriously, get whatever you want... I'll be back."
"Where are you going?"
"You'll see."
"Brian, you're not getting a fancy ring," she said, nodding at the basket, "A ten dollar AE special is already more than enough."
Brian smirked, "Relax. I'll be back." He shoved the credit card into her hand, put his purchases on the counter, and told the sales girl, "Help outfit this one up in whatever she wants, okay? She's got my card and the sky's the limit." He winked at Emma and ducked out the door of the store.
When Brian came back a little more than twenty minutes later, Emma had managed to stand her ground and only had caved at the offer of soft brown moccasins, a new hat, and the feather earrings to add to her pile. She'd resisted several gorgeous dresses, sweaters, and, the thing she really considered a triumph, the softest pair of sweatpants known to mankind. Brian was empty handed, but his face was glowing triumpantly.
Emma handed him the bag with his jeans and polo in it, and said, "Why do you look like the Cheshire cat?" Brian didn't answer, instead he led the way to the truck.
