All she had ever wanted.

“Of course I will be your wife,” June whispered, tears in her eyes.

“It’s me and you, baby,” Mick said, as he pulled her close to him. She buried her head in his neck, inhaled his scent, pomade and aftershave. They held hands as they made their way up the pier and Mick kissed June with a passion and gravity that he’d never kissed anyone with before.

His parents had died when he was barely eighteen. But now he was building his own family. His own piece of the world. And they would be different, he and June.

When they got to his car, they quickly made their way to the backseat. And this time, when Mick slipped his hand up her dress, June let herself rejoice. She let herself be touched, the way she had so desperately yearned to be touched by him.

People act like marriage is confinement, June thought, but isn’t this freedom? She was thrilled to finally be able to say yes, to feel everything she wanted to feel.

As they pushed against each other, June guessed—from the confident way Mick held her, the finesse with which he moved—that it was not his first time. Her heart ached a bit to know he’d lied to her. But hadn’t she asked him to? She found herself drawn to him that much more, quenching a need to be the only one who mattered. She let him push himself into her, pulled him as close as she could, and she let it all go.

June was shocked—surprised, stunned—when he put his hand on her while he was inside her. She felt embarrassed and shy about being touched like that. But she did not want to tell him to stop, could not bear the thought of him stopping. And moments later, bliss ran through her like a bolt.

And somehow, as she lay there next to him in the back of the car, the two of them breathless, June understood that she could never go back to who she was even a moment ago, now that she knew what he could do to her.

“I love you,” she said.

And he kissed her, and looked her in the eye, and said, “I love you, too. God, Junie. I love you, too.”

• • •

The next day, Mick came over and held her hand as they stood in her parents’ kitchen and told them they were getting married.

“I wasn’t given much of a choice, it seems,” her father said, frowning.

“Dad—”

Theo nodded. “I’ll hear him out, June. You know me well enough to know that. I’ll always hear a man out.” He nodded to Mick. “C’mon, son, let’s talk about your plan to take care of my daughter.”

Mick winked at June as he followed Theo into the living room. She felt a tiny bit more at ease.

“Get the chicken out of the fridge, honey,” her mother said. “We’ll make chicken and rice for supper.”

June did as she was told, moving quietly, trying to hear what her father was saying to Mick. But she couldn’t make out a single word.

As Christina lit the stove, she turned to June. “He’s certainly as handsome a man as I’ve ever seen,” she said.

June smiled.

“My God,” Christina said. “He looks like a young Monty Clift.”

June got the carrots out and put them on the cutting board.

“But that’s just all the more reason to be cautious,” Christina said, shaking her head. “You don’t marry the boys who look like Monty Clift.”

June looked back down at the carrots in front of her and started chopping. She knew her mother would never understand. Her mother never bought new dresses, never tried a new recipe, never watched TV except the news. She watched her mother reread her old, worn copy of Great Expectations over and over every year, because “why take a chance on another book when I already know I like this one?”

If June didn’t want her mother’s life, then she couldn’t take her mother’s advice. Plain and simple.

Twenty minutes later, as Christina was stirring the rice and June was nervously setting the table, Mick walked in, Theo’s hand on his shoulder.

Theo smiled at June. “You might have picked a good one after all, honey.”

June, overcome, ran to Mick and her father and hugged them both.

“You have my blessing,” Theo said, turning his gaze to Mick. “With the caveats we talked about, son.”

Mick nodded.

“Thank you, Daddy,” June said.

Theo shook his head. “Don’t thank me. Mick here’s got a few years in him to try to make it big and then he’s ready to do the right thing and take over the restaurant.”

Theo shook Mick’s hand and Mick smiled and shook it back. “Yes, sir,” he said.

Theo went over to Christina and June pulled Mick aside. “We’re going to take over the restaurant?” she whispered.

Mick shook his head. “He just needs to hear what he needs to hear right now. And so I gave it to him. But did you hear the first part? A few years to make it big? I don’t need a few years. Don’t worry, Junie.”

Over dinner, Mick complimented Christina’s cooking and Christina finally smiled. Mick asked Theo for advice on car insurance and Theo gladly stepped in to consult.

And over dessert, strawberry shortcake, Theo asked Mick to sing.

“June says you sing Cole Porter better than Cole Porter,” Theo said.

Mick demurred and then acquiesced. He put his napkin on the table and stood up. He starting singing “I’ve Got You Under My Skin.” And before he got to the bridge, Theo was nodding along, smiling.

Mick felt a lump in his throat and so he carried on, but he pushed harder out of his sternum, held the notes a bit longer than normal. And when he was done, Mick caught his breath, unable to look at Theo as he tried to steady his pulse.

June clapped. Theo joined her. “Nicely done,” he said. “Nicely done.”

Mick looked at him, finally took in his approval.

Christina smiled wide but June noticed she neither parted her lips nor scrunched her eyes. “Lovely,” she said.

Mick said good night to everyone shortly after dinner. He kissed June on the cheek in the driveway. “We’re really going to be something together. You know that, don’t you?” he asked her.

And June beamed. “Of course I know that.”

He held her hand tight as she tried to walk back into her house, as if she could drag him with her. He dropped it at the very last second, not wanting to say goodbye. He stayed in his car until she waved at him from her bedroom window. Then he backed out and went on his way.

Christina found June in the bathroom moments later, washing her face. Christina was already in her robe; she’d set her hair in rollers to sleep in.

“June, are you sure?” Christina asked.

June felt her shoulders begin to slump. She straightened them out. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“I know he’s handsome and I know he’s got a great voice but …”

“But what, Mom?” June asked.

Christina shook her head. “Just make sure he knows how to run a restaurant.”

“Did it ever occur to you,” June said, feeling her voice getting higher, “that I might be meant for something bigger than a restaurant off the side of the road?”

Christina’s face tightened, her lips pursed together, as if she was guarding herself against her daughter’s sharp tongue. June braced herself for a moment, unsure how her mother would react. But Christina softened once more.