Brandon Bosko broke up with Lucy about three months after her fifteenth birthday, just about three months after raising a plastic party cup to make a toast.
"To fifteen years of Lucy," he had said. "And to the next fifteen." The rest of her friends had raised their plastic party cups in agreement. Then, they all drank to her, Sprite and Coke and Mountain Dew. Lucy had blushed and smiled and blown out the birthday candles for which she had told her mother she was too old, but before she blew them out, Lucy made a birthday wish. Of course, she never told her wish to anyone.
Her birthday wish was this: that Brandon Bosko would be there fifteen years later to make a similar toast.
Fifteen years later, to the day, Brandon Bosko was in a hotel ballroom in Chicago. Rising from his chair amid applause and polite laughter, he rang a dessert spoon against his refilled champagne flute for effect, but his guests chimed in until he was forced to hold off on his intended toast to lean down to kiss his bride.
"I thought this day would never come," he said once the room had grown quiet again. "And to be honest, there were times I prayed that it wouldn’t." He smiled down at her playful frown. "But, darling, my life would be empty without you in it. When I imagine the future, you’re all I see." He raised his crystal champagne flute. "To tomorrow and the day after and the day after that, et cetera. To you, Lindsey."
And they all drank to her.