Too late... or is it?

Yes too late to the party, my bad. Or shall I tease you anyway...

It was the mustache that did it. It always had been, ever since she first saw him across the street. She'd have been nine or ten, he a good seven or eight years older.

"I'm going to marry him some day," she told her best friend Ella.

Ella laughed. "He's old."

"Nah," Mirry shook her head. "He's perfect."

She'd never changed her mind. 

She remembered the day she realized he noticed her as a desirable woman and not the pesky kid across the street. It was her eighteenth birthday, and she was wearing a red and white spotted dress and new now I'm eighteen stilettos just so she could assure the bouncers she was old enough for the dance hall.

Johnny had sauntered over. "She's with me," he said with all the arrogance of a man in his twenties who knew woman drooled over him.

 Mirry had nodded. "I'm with him, and not just for now."

 He'd laughed and pulled her into his arms for a slow dance. "I'm going to hold you to that."

He had...