A Very Perry Wedding by Marie Landry
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I’m thrilled to learn Jasper lives in Cabbagetown, a neighborhood in central Toronto that’s known for its funky, colorful Victorian houses and picturesque nooks and crannies. When I lived in Toronto, I’d come here often on my days off, particularly in the autumn when the leaves turned and the flowering cabbages were in bloom. I’d stroll along the streets, check out the shops and restaurants, and, when I needed an hour or two of solitude to clear my head, I’d wander the vast, peaceful grounds of St. James’ Cemetery.
“Is it sad I was hoping Jasper lived in one of the Victorian houses?” I ask as Evan pulls the car up in front of a four-story apartment building.
Gwen laughs. “No. The first time we came for a visit and Evan told me Jasper lived in Cabbagetown, I hoped it’d be one of the Victorians.”
“She was especially hoping it’d be one of the hideous yellow and purple ones,” Evan says.
“They’re not hideous!” Gwen’s tone is so scandalized you’d think Evan had just called her hideous. “They’re charming and full of character, just like this whole area.”
“It’s that charm that’s taken this from a beautiful neighborhood to something trendy, which has driven up real estate prices. Do you know the Victorians cost up to two million dollars these days? The prices have driven out so many families and middle class people who want to live in Toronto but don’t necessarily want the hustle and bustle of the busier areas.”
Gwen glances over her shoulder at me as Evan hops out of the car. “Touchy subject,” she whispers. “We’ve been talking about buying a house within the next year, and everything is more expensive than we realized. He was grumbling the other day about how people are leaving Toronto and coming to Bellevue, and it’s driving up real estate prices.”
“I’d believe it, considering what I’m paying for my itty bitty apartment,” I tell her.
We get out of the car and join Evan, who has my bags waiting on the sidewalk. He’s dropping us off at the front of Jasper’s building and then driving to one of the nearby public parking lots.
“Next time I do an impression of a miser, I’m really going to lean into it,” Evan says with a wry smile. “I’ll go full Scrooge McDuck with a Scottish accent and everything.”
Gwen presses into him on one side and I do the same on the other. “Make sure to complain about the price of bread and eggs too,” she says, kissing his cheek.
“And how much it costs to go to the movie theater these days,” I add, kissing his other cheek.
With a laugh, he playfully shoves us away from him. We take my bags and head toward Jasper’s building, slipping in behind someone who’s on their way out. When we get out of the elevator on the fourth floor a minute later, I follow Gwen to the end of the hall, where she knocks on a door with a small autumnal wreath. We wait for several beats and then she knocks again.
“That’s weird.” She pulls her phone from her purse and checks the screen. “I texted him a few minutes ago to tell him we were almost here.”
The sound of the door being unlocked comes from the other side, paired with a string of muffled muttering. Gwen and I stare at the knob as it jiggles back and forth, then jump back when the door suddenly flies open.
“Apologies,” Jasper says breathlessly. His arms are bent at the elbows, hands in the air like a doctor who’s just scrubbed in for surgery. “I was elbow deep in…and my hands were…please come in. Mind the doorknob when you’re closing the door, it’s covered in grease.”
I’ve never seen Jasper so disheveled. The sleeves of his dark-red pullover are shoved to his elbows and his jeans are not only unironed, they’re actually wrinkled. His wild hair and the stubble on his cheeks—which are flushed, either from the stifling heat in the apartment or the embarrassment of his struggle getting the door open—make him look way sexier than it should for someone who’s obviously quite distressed.
“Why is it so hot in here?” Gwen asks.
“I honestly have no clue,” Jasper says, his voice higher than usual. “The temperature was perfect until about half an hour ago when heat started blasting from the vents. I’ve put in a call to the super, but it’s the Saturday of a holiday weekend, so who knows when he’ll arrive.”
Sweat is gathering around his hairline, making little curls spring up over his forehead. He raises his hand as if to push his hair back, then remembers his hands are covered in—whatever they’re covered in—and uses his forearm to shove his hair back instead.
He shoots me an apologetic look as he hurries across the room. “I promise I’m normally a much better host. Please come in and make yourselves at home, maybe open a window or two. I just need to check on a few things and I’ll be back shortly.” He disappears into what I assume is the kitchen, leaving Gwen and me standing in the doorway staring at each other. The moment our eyes meet, we both dissolve into stifled laughter.
“Poor Jasper,” I whisper.
“We shouldn’t laugh,” she says around a giggle. “But only Jasper would be so polite while having a meltdown.”
“A literal meltdown.” I set my bags on the floor and peel off my jacket and cardigan. It feels like we’ve just arrived on a tropical island. Gwen shucks her outerwear and pushes the sleeves of her top up as far as they’ll go.
“Come on, I’ll give you a tour and show you to your room,” she says.
“I’m almost afraid to go into the kitchen, but the desserts for tomorrow should be put in the fridge, seeing as it’s a thousand degrees in here,” I say, lifting the insulated bag from the floor.
“Okay, we’ll venture in and see if there’s anything we can do to ease his stress,” Gwen says.
Jasper is drying his hands on a towel when we enter the kitchen. I scan the room; it’s small and bright, with the window wide open, letting in a cool breeze to offset the oppressive heat. The most noticeable thing about the room is the fact it looks like a food bomb went off in here. Every inch of counter space is covered in pots, pans, and various ingredients.
“I was rather hoping you wouldn’t see the kitchen this way,” he says when he sees us.
“Sorry,” I say faintly, taking in the very un-Jasper-like mess. “I wanted to put the desserts in the fridge. What can we do to help?”
Jasper plants his hands on his hips and looks around. Before he can say anything, Gwen says, “Jasper doesn’t like to relinquish control of the kitchen. I basically forced him to let me help last Christmas, and it’s been a continued struggle ever since.” She grins at Jasper when he shoots her an exasperated look. “Why are you cooking already when dinner isn’t until tomorrow?”
“I wanted to do as much prep as possible today so I wouldn’t have to spend the entire day tomorrow in the kitchen and could enjoy everyone’s company.” He’s nearly breathless again by the time he gets the words out. He opens his mouth to say something else and is interrupted by a knock on the front door. “Oh, thank god, that’ll be the super here to fix the heat.” He shoots us another rueful look as he dashes past. A muttered curse reaches my ears and then, “The door’s unlocked, can you open it from your end? Oh, it’s you.”
“Hello to you too, big brother,” comes Evan’s voice. Gwen and I peek out the kitchen door to see him fanning a hand in front of his face as he steps into the apartment. “Why is it like a sauna in here?”
“I decided on a tropical theme for Thanksgiving since none of us has had a vacation this year,” Jasper says, turning on his heel and marching back toward the kitchen.
Gwen and I scramble out of the way, heading for a bewildered-looking Evan. “You know Jasper is truly unraveling when he breaks out the sarcasm,” Gwen whispers to me. To Evan, she says, “Something happened to the heater and he’s not sure if or when the super can come to fix it.”
“Oh.” Evan kicks off his shoes and removes his jacket. When Gwen takes it from him to hang it up, he kisses her cheek and moves past her toward the kitchen. “Hey, Jasper, I can take a look at the heater if you want. I fixed the one in our apartment last winter when it went on the fritz.”
Gwen turns to me, her eyes bright with humor. “Tour?”
I shouldn’t be surprised Jasper’s apartment is like something out of a magazine spread. With the current exception of the kitchen, everything is spotless. I can practically see my reflection in the gleaming hardwood floor. The matching couch and armchairs in the living room are fancy and yet manage to look comfortable and inviting. Furniture like that usually makes me want to run in the opposite direction out of fear I’ll spill something on it. A large bookcase takes up the wall between two huge windows, and features neatly organized books and framed family photos.
I follow Gwen down a short hall, where she points out the bathroom, a closed door she says is Jasper’s bedroom, and then Hadley’s room at the end of the hall.
“And that completes the tour,” Gwen says with a sweeping bow. “You good here? I’m going to go check on the boys, make sure Jasper hasn’t spontaneously combusted and Evan hasn’t broken anything.”
I assure her I’m fine and tell her I’ll be out in a few minutes. When she leaves, I stand in the middle of Hadley’s room and do a visual sweep. I expected the youngest Perry’s bedroom to reflect her personality. I was picturing lots of color and clutter, souvenirs from her travels, and maybe fandom stuff like I have. But the room looks like the spare bedroom it was before she moved in: nicely decorated with a quilt-covered double bed, end tables, and a dresser. A peek in the closet shows a few items of clothing on hangers, with the rest of the space taken up by stacks of labeled boxes. I guess Hadley hasn’t got around to unpacking, which is strange since she’s been living with Jasper for months now.
“Quit being nosy,” I murmur to myself, closing the closet door. I unpack my few belongings and make a stop in the bathroom before going to join the others.
I’ve nearly reached the kitchen when I hear Jasper saying, “I just want everything to be perfect.”
“You know no one expects or even cares about perfection,” Gwen says. “What is this really about?”
I pause near the kitchen door. I shouldn’t eavesdrop, but the fact Jasper has gone silent makes me curious. My sudden appearance would make it too easy for him to change the subject, and I want to know what has him so discombobulated.
“You do know there’s only seven of us, right?” Gwen says. “Eight if you count Miss Lizzy, but she’ll have to wait until next year to enjoy Uncle Jasper’s cooking.”
I’ve heard this particular tone from Gwen many times over the years. Gentle, with a hint of coaxing. It’s what makes her so easy to open up to, and what’s always made me think she missed her calling as a therapist.
Jasper must agree because after another beat of silence, he says, “Despite knowing nobody expects perfection, I want everything to be perfect. It’s our first Thanksgiving together in years, and your first with us. And Willow’s first with us.”
My ears perk up at the mention of my name.
“I was going over the menu late last night and suddenly remembered Willow is a vegetarian,” Jasper continues. “At least I believe she is. She’s never eaten meat in my presence and we’ve dined together a few times now.”
“Wow, look at you, Mr. Observant,” Gwen says.
“So I’m right.” It’s a statement rather than a question. Gwen must give some indication of agreement because he says, “I realized most of the dishes revolve around the turkey. The stuffing is made with sausage and turkey broth, plus many of the vegetables are cooked with the turkey. Even if I cooked the vegetables separately, I couldn’t expect her to eat only that and maybe another side or two, so I had to expand the menu. Which meant a frantic online search late last night for dishes that tie in with Thanksgiving, and then a shopping trip early this morning.”
“Is any of it vegan?” Gwen asks.
There’s a long pause. I can’t see them, but I can practically feel the weight of the silence. After a moment, Jasper lets out a strangled laugh. “Gwendolyn Dunwitch, are you trying to push me over the edge?”
Gwen’s devilish laugh has me covering my mouth to hold in a chuckle of my own. I chance a glance around the corner to see Jasper shaking his head, his expression a mixture of fond indulgence and resignation. The kind of look I imagine a brother would give his sister when she’s being a brat. That, paired with what I just overheard, melts my heart.
I can’t believe Jasper went to all that trouble for me. I would have eaten what I could without ever saying a word; I’ve had to do it countless times at dinner parties and get-togethers. And yet Jasper went out of his way to include me so I wouldn’t have to eat bits and pieces of meatless side dishes. He’s making it harder and harder not to fall head over heels in love with him.
Evan appears from around the corner, and I nearly jump out of my skin. He grins when he realizes I’ve been listening in on Gwen and Jasper’s conversation.
“Busted,” I whisper.
“You’re as bad as Gwen,” he whispers back, poking my arm. “But your secret’s safe with me. And for what it’s worth…” He leans away from me to peer around the corner, likely ensuring Gwen and Jasper are still in the kitchen. “I think you and Jasper would be really good together. He needs someone like you. Someone who sees the real him and likes him just how he is without wanting to change him.”
I’m not sure what to say. All I can think of is ‘thank you’ but that doesn’t seem quite right. Evan nods as if he understands and pats my shoulder. “Keep being patient with him. If he doesn’t get a clue soon, we’ll all gang up on him and help him see the light. Sometimes that’s what it takes with Jasper.”
*****
“Can I get you a drink?” Jasper asks.
It’s a few minutes after nine o’clock. Gwen and Evan have just left for Malcolm and Sherée’s house after a day of laughter, food, and Thanksgiving dinner prep. Thankfully, Evan was successful in fixing the wonky heater and was showered in hugs and kisses from all of us, including a red-faced, sweating Jasper. By the time the apartment had reached non-tropical temperatures, Gwen and I had convinced Jasper to let us help in the kitchen.
“I’d love a glass of wine, thanks.”
Jasper returns from the kitchen a moment later with my glass of wine and a tumbler of what looks like whiskey for himself. He lets out a weary sigh as he collapses into the chair across from mine.
“It’s difficult being a perfectionist, isn’t it?”
His expression doesn’t change, but he laughs under his breath.
“Being a recovering perfectionist myself, I recognize the signs,” I continue. “The need for control. The stubbornness.”
His dark eyebrows inch up. “Stubborn? Me?” He smiles softly, wryly, after the words are out, telling me he knows it’s true. “Believe it or not, I’ve gotten better, especially over the last year. I’ve worked hard to release my need to control everything. That being said, a day like today makes those tendencies rear their head, and shows me I still have work to do.”
“Is there any particular reason for that? Old habits dying hard? Or are you stressed about this being the first official Perry Thanksgiving in years?”
“Should I lie on the couch for this session, Doctor?”
Gotta say, Sarcastic Jasper still surprises and delights me. “Ha ha,” I say dryly. “We don’t have to talk about it. I just want you to know I understand. In my case, my need for control stems from anxiety.”
He eyes me with a steady, searching gaze. After several seemingly endless seconds, he gives a little nod and glances down, swirling his drink and making the ice clink against the glass. “Part of me can’t help but wonder if this will be our last holiday together as a family.”
“Why do you think that?” I ask.
“Now that Malcolm and Sherée have baby Elizabeth, I’m not sure they’ll want to do our usual Christmas get-together. Perhaps they’ll want to start their own traditions or simply be on their own, just the three of them. I wouldn’t blame them if that were the case.” He pauses to take a sip of his drink. “For so many years, those Christmases were our only time together. I imagine the others didn’t particularly want to do it, but they knew our parents would want us to be together. Despite the family dynamics changing this past year and all of us being closer, I still worry. It’s already different with Hadley not here. I was disappointed she chose to be away for the holiday, although I’d never want to stop her from living her own life.”
“That’s understandable.” I wish I could move closer to Jasper. Sit beside him and take his hand or, at the very least, touch him in some way to show him he’s cared for and not alone. I have to remind myself I’m the touchy-feely one, not Jasper, and my penchant for physical contact as a form of comfort might not be welcome.
He has that faraway look in his eyes he sometimes gets as he says, “I always thought I’d be married by this point, maybe with a family of my own. But here I am, at forty, and my siblings are surpassing me in life milestones.”
“That’s such a social construct, though,” I say. “I remember feeling panicky when I turned thirty and wasn’t married yet, even though I had a serious boyfriend at the time. It actually took my breakup a year or so later to make me see how ridiculous I’d been. Just because our paths in life are different from what some people consider the norm doesn’t make them wrong.”
Jasper murmurs something that sounds like, “You’re right,” but it’s so soft I’m not sure if I imagined it.
“I get it, though,” I say. “With the exception of Marisol, all my friends are married, getting married, or in serious relationships. It can be hard not to feel like the odd one out sometimes. And I imagine there’s an extra layer of emotion when you’re the oldest sibling watching all your younger brothers and sisters have the lives you thought you’d have by now.”
The shadows clear from his eyes and he looks almost…relieved? “Yes. That’s it exactly, Willow.”
I smile at him and his lips curve the tiniest bit in response. “You know, my former therapist, the one I saw here in Toronto, always reminded me change is a natural and inevitable part of life. So, while your family holidays might look different from now on, you’ll figure it out. Plenty of huge families find a way to make it work. Maybe it’ll just be dinner together instead of a week-long affair. At least you’ll still be together. Or maybe you do one big family thing and then smaller get-togethers, like you going to Evan and Gwen’s or Malcolm and Sherée inviting you to stay for a weekend. Or you, Lina, and Hadley going away somewhere together and having a singles weekend.”
One side of his mouth twitches. I wonder if he’s imagining that last suggestion the way I am now. I have a feeling Hadley wouldn’t love the idea, so I hope if Jasper ever mentions it to her, he leaves my name out of it.
“Thank you, Willow. You’re right about everything. I’ve never been the best at adapting, but I’m seeing perhaps it’s time to learn. Consider it yet another form of stepping outside my comfort zone.”
“There you go. You’ll get there, Jasper. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
He makes a humming noise and settles further into his chair, crossing one leg over the other and leaning his head back. His eyes slip closed and then pop open again. “Would you think I’m terribly dull and an awful host if I turned in now? I had such an early start and I’m—” He pauses, covering his mouth as a yawn shudders through him. He gives his head a little shake, looking sheepish. “I’m so sorry. It’s been a long day. Wonderful, but long.” He gives me a sleepy smile that makes me want to crawl into his lap and cuddle him.
“I don’t mind at all. I think I might go to bed soon myself, but I’d like to unwind a bit more first.”
“Of course, whatever you like.” He gets up and takes his glass to the kitchen. The sound of clinking reaches my ears, and I picture him washing his glass and putting it away. When he returns, he says, “Please make yourself at home. Help yourself to anything, watch TV, peruse my bookshelves.”
He’s back to Formal Jasper all of a sudden. He’s being the courteous host while all I want to do is ask him to take me to bed with him. I take a sip of wine and get to my feet. Part of me thinks this is my chance to make a move. We’re finally alone, I’m spending the night in his apartment, we’ve just had an intense heart to heart. I could reveal my feelings for him or simply step forward, press my body against his, and tilt my face upward until there’s no mistaking my intent.
As much as I want that, Jasper seems almost vulnerable right now. I don’t want to lay more at his feet or risk having this turn into something incredibly awkward when we still have tomorrow to get through. So I put myself firmly in the Friend Zone and say, “I’m not sure if I can sleep without a room full of Funko Pops watching me.”
Confusion flickers over Jasper’s face, followed quickly by a soft chuckle. “I’m afraid I can’t help you there.”
I give a ‘what can you do?’ shrug. “Good night, Jasper. Thanks for everything today.”
He surprises me by closing the distance between us and wrapping his arms around me. I expect it to be a quick hug, but he doesn’t let go immediately, so I don’t either. I close my eyes and breathe him in, noticing the hints of cinnamon and sage mixed in with his usual subtle cologne. His grip loosens and he releases me slowly, his hands lingering on my waist.
We stare at each other for a moment that feels like an eternity. His face is close to mine, just a breath away. It would be so easy to lean forward the tiniest bit and brush my lips against his. Without meaning to, my gaze flicks down to his mouth. That small movement seems to shake Jasper from his stupor. His hands fall abruptly from my waist and he steps back.
“Good night, Willow,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to come get me.” He takes a few slow steps toward the hallway where the bedrooms are and then stops, turning back. “I’m sorry we didn’t get much time together today. Alone, I mean. I was wondering…”
My heart gives a hopeful jolt when he pauses. “Yes?”
“I’ve planned a special surprise for Gwen and Evan this coming week. I’ve arranged everything and they’ve booked the time off work. I know it’s last minute, but I was wondering if perhaps you’d like to accompany us? We’d leave on Wednesday and return on Thursday. I’ve booked accommodation and you’d have your own room.”
My mouth opens and closes wordlessly. “Do I get any more details than that?”
Jasper’s mouth screws up to one side as he thinks it over. After a moment, a slow smile takes over his face. “No, I don’t think so. Consider it a surprise for you too.”
Taking two days off in the middle of the week when I’ll be taking all of next weekend off for the wedding won’t be easy, especially on such short notice. In my head, Marisol’s voice overrides my concerns: ‘You’re the boss, remember? You can do whatever you want’.
A surprise. An overnight getaway with Jasper. I can’t remember the last time I did something spontaneous. “Okay. Count me in for this mystery adventure.”
Jasper’s smile turns into a full-blown grin that makes my heart leap again and sends butterflies skittering through my belly. “Wonderful. We’ll talk more tomorrow about what you should bring and what time I’ll pick you up on Wednesday.” Without another word, he gives me a nod and a wave, then disappears down the hall.
The soft click of his bedroom door closing makes me realize I’m still standing in the middle of the living room. I wander around the room, taking in the framed family photos and the books on the shelves. I brush my fingers over his fancy Canon camera, which he brought out earlier, along with a tripod. He told me he bought it a few years ago and rarely uses it except for family photos. I pointed out photography would be a good hobby for him and Cabbagetown in the autumn is a photographer’s dream.
Under the camera is a pad of paper with ‘Yearly Christmas Newsletter’ written at the top in neat handwriting, followed by bullet point notes on each Perry sibling. Gwen saw me looking at it earlier and explained that Jasper sends out a newsletter in his Christmas cards each year. When I questioned why he’d start writing it in mid-October, she gave me a sardonic look and reminded me this was Jasper we were talking about. “He’ll have it sent out by mid-November, I’m sure,” she’d said with an affectionate smile.
Continuing around the room, I imagine Jasper here in the evenings and on weekends. He told me once he doesn’t watch much TV unless Hadley is here, so I picture him reading, maybe doing puzzles, listening to music. Is he lonely or is he so used to being alone it doesn’t faze him? What would it be like to be here with him for more than a weekend? To be together not only in the physical ‘being here’ sense, but also ‘building a life’ sense?
I shake my head and give my forehead a quick smack for good measure. Jasper has never given any indication he thinks of me as anything other than a friend. I’ve ventured into dangerous one-sided crush territory where I’m fantasizing about having a life with Jasper while he’s happy to have a new friend. Even if something did happen between us, my life is in Bellevue and Jasper’s life is here in Toronto. This city is too much for me now—too big, too noisy, too polluted. It represents the version of me who needed to run away and figure things out. It served its purpose as the place that allowed me to hide out for a while when my life fell apart, but I’m finished hiding now. I’m building a new life on my terms.
I wonder if coming to Toronto was Jasper’s version of running away and hiding once Evan and Hadley moved out on their own. He seems so much better suited to a smaller city like Bellevue. Whatever his reason, this is clearly his home now, and I can’t see him leaving, even if he is unhappy with his job. Hadley has only been living with him for a short time, so he wouldn’t want to leave her hanging. And I know he enjoys being close to Malcolm, Sherée, and baby Elizabeth, plus Lina is here in the city.
I need to stop this train of thought before it gets carried away. I suppose it’s natural to fantasize about these things since I’m in Jasper’s home, surrounded by the evidence of his life. Because of that, I’d probably be better off in Hadley’s nondescript, completely impersonal bedroom.
So I top up my wine and head down the hall, only pausing outside Jasper’s door for a second before shutting myself away in Hadley’s room.