Two days had passed, and only now were Roger and Mimi given the chance to plan by themselves. Joanne had finally convinced Maureen to give them some time alone and go with her, Mark, Emily and Penny to a Yankees game. So apart from Collins, who was napping on the easy chair, occasionally mumbling a tune under his breath every-so-often, they had the Loft all to themselves.
At the current time, Mimi was lying on the couch, with her legs resting on Roger's lap, who was more then happy to lightly caress them with his fingertips. Mimi took this moment to bring up the issue of the guest list.
"Hey, that's easy," Roger chuckled. "You, me, and the rest of the gang. Oh, and I guess Nana."
"Well, we really should invite the people from Life Support, too," Mimi pointed out.
"Of course, they're a given," Roger agreed before a smirk started forming. "I don't suppose you're going to invite your former co-workers, too?" Instantly catching on to the jab at her old job, Mimi leaned forward to smack the back of his head. "Ow!" Roger winced as her hand make contact, reaching back to rub the sore spot.
"Serves you right, babe," Mimi grinned. "Don't you dare forget how pleased you always get that I used to work there whenever you're in the mood."
"Okay, I'm sorry!" Roger apologized, still rubbing the back of his head. After a moment of silence, he spoke up again. "You know, that really did hurt." Mimi broke out laughing as she turned his head so she could place a tender kiss on the sore spot, grinning when she heard the contented moan rumbling in his throat. In response, he reached out an arm to pull her to his side. The two sat cuddled together for a long moment, until a hesitant look crossed Mimi's face, showing she really didn't want to bring up the issue she was about to.
"Roger? Maybe… we should think about inviting our parents, too." At Mimi's words, Roger's eyes shot open with surprise.
"You're serious?"
"They're our parents. They have a right to…"
"Yeah, I know. It's jut that… you've never really mentioned your parents before, apart from that brief mention of your father when we first met. You just caught me by surprise, that's all. And… I always assumed it was because you didn't have the best relationship with them."
"Yeah, well… they never really agreed with my dreams of being a dancer. They thought it was a nice thing as a hobby or something. But they thought I should go into something like nursing, or become a real estate agent. You know, something with a sure paycheck involed."
"So that's why you ran away?"
"Who… how'd you know that?" Mimi turned her head, staring at him in astonishment.
"Angel told me," Roger confessed. "She said you ran away at fifteen to become a dancer." The mention of Angel brought a brief sadness to Mimi's face.
"I miss her."
"I know, baby. I miss her, too." Roger pulled Mimi onto his lap and held her close, rocking her back and forth. After a moment, he spoke up again. "So… are you sure about that? Inviting your parents, I mean."
"Yes. They're my parents. I may not have really been in contact with them in six years, but they'd want to hear about this."
"Then we'll invite them."
"Yours too?" Roger hesitated for a moment. He'd been out of touch with his parents for a while as well, barely writing to them since finding out about the HIV. He momentarily wondered how they would react to the news that their only son was going to marry a woman they'd never met. He couldn't imagine them being too happy about it. But on the other hand, inviting them would give them a chance to see exactly why he wanted to marry her.
"Yeah," Roger finally agreed. "Mine too." Mimi responded with a loving kiss on his lips.
"Thanks, Rog, babe." As the two continued planning, the door slid open and Robbie, Roger's band-mate and friend, entered.
"Yo, Rog," Robbie greeted.
"Hey, Robbie. What's up?"
"Well, first of all," Robbie began, "I want to say sorry if I'm interrupting any wedding planning stuff. Congrats, by the way, and good luck keeping him in line, Mimi."
"Oh, I think I'll have no problem there," Mimi smirked, tracing one of her fingers over Roger's leg, dangerously close, prompting a slight jump from him, followed by a goofy smile.
"Right, of course. Anyway, Roger, the guys sent me down here to fetch you, for an emergency meeting. It's about the… the thing." Roger frowned slightly, understanding what Robbie meant by the 'thing'.
"Okay. I'll be down in a moment." Roger reluctantly pulled Mimi off his lap. "Sorry, Meems. This is something I need to take care of. I'll be back soon, okay?" Roger placed a kiss on Mimi's temple. "I love you."
"I love you, too."
After Roger and Robbie had left, Mimi made her way into their room. Hopefully, Roger wouldn't mind if she borrowed a blank page in his notebook to start writing up the guest list. Taking one of his pens, she started to write the names down, remembering that they had to keep it small, for the expenses issue. However, as she started to work on the guest list, she glanced over at the bed, and noticed Roger had forgotten his leather jacket. Grinning to herself, she picked it up off the bed, where it had been thrown casually earlier, and began to go after Roger. But as she picked it up, a crumpled piece of paper happened to fall from one of the pockets.
Curiosity getting the better of her, she picked it up, the jacket momentarily forgotten, and smoothed it out. It turned out the paper was a receipt from a local jewelry dealer. A receipt for her ring. For a second, she was going to forget she saw it, until she noticed the price on the receipt, and her jaw dropped in shock. That had to have been a mistake. There was no way any of them had that kind of money. Roger would have to give up his gig money for six months to pay this off, and they needed that money for rent and AZT. So what on earth was he thinking? How could he possibly come up with this much?
Mimi exited the bedroom and took up perch by the window, forgetting all about catching up to Roger to get him his jacket. For now, her only concern was finding out how Roger could have afforded the ring. And she was going to find out, no matter what.