I detach from her a moment to look up and down the street, then into the distance. What she’s describing is an enormous undertaking. I can’t believe how much space they were already able to reclaim. “This is a remarkable idea, Ella. Truly. It’s brilliant.” I look back at her, forcing a smile. “I only wish I could’ve helped.”
“I really, really wanted to tell you about it,” she says, her brows knitting together. “But I couldn’t say anything because I knew you’d want to come see the area, and then you would’ve noticed all the building materials, and then you would’ve wanted to know why so many people were working so hard on this one house, and then you would’ve wanted to know who was going to live in it—”
“I wouldn’t have asked that many questions.”
She shoots me a hard look.
“No, you’re right.” I nod. “I would’ve ruined the surprise.”
“HEY!”
I spin around at the sound of the familiar voice. Kenji is coming around the side yard of the house. He’s holding a folding chair in one hand, and waving what appears to be a sprig of some kind of flower in the other. “You two coming in or what? Brendan is complaining about losing the light or some shit—he says the sun will be directly overhead in a couple of hours, which is apparently really bad for photos? Anyway, Nazeera is getting impatient, too; she says J needs to start getting ready soon.”
I stare at Kenji, then Ella, dumbfounded. She already looks perfect. “Get ready how?”
“I have to put on my dress,” she says, and laughs.
“And makeup,” Kenji shouts from across the street. “Nazeera and Alia say they need to do her makeup. And something about her hair.”
I stiffen. “You have a dress? But I thought—”
Ella kisses me on the cheek, cutting me off. “Okay, there might be a few more surprises left in the day.”
“I’m not sure my heart can handle any more surprises, love.”
“How’s this for a surprise?” Kenji says, leaning against the folding chair. “This beautiful piece of shit right here?” He gestures at the dilapidated house next door. “This one’s mine.”
That wipes the smile off my face.
“That’s right, buddy.” Kenji is grinning now. “We’re going to be neighbors.”
TWELVE
Ella is soon whisked away by a tornado of women—Nazeera, Alia, and Lily—who come charging out the door in a swarm, enveloping her in their depths before I’ve even had a chance to say a proper goodbye.
There’s little more than a faint squeak from Ella—
And she’s gone.
I find myself standing alone in front of what I’m still processing as my own home, my mind spinning, heart racing, when Kenji walks over to me.
“C’mon, man,” he says, still smiling. “You’ve got stuff to do, too.”
I look at him. “What kind of stuff?”
“Well, first of all, this is for you,” he says, offering me the small sprig I noticed in his hand earlier. “It’s for your lapel. It’s like a, you know—like a—a—”
“I know what a boutonniere is,” I say stiffly. I accept the small spray, examining it now with surprise. It’s a single gardenia nestled against a tasteful arrangement of its own glossy leaves, the stems tied up with a bit of black ribbon, struck through with a pin. The bundle is elegant and shockingly fragrant. Gardenias are in fact one of my favorite flowers.
I look up at Kenji then, unable to hide my confusion.
He shrugs. “Don’t look at me, bro. I have no idea what kind of flower that is. J just told me what she wanted.”
“Wait.” I frown at that, more confused by the moment. “You did this?”
“I just did what she asked me to do, okay?” he says, putting up his hands. “So if you hate the flower you should talk to your fiancée, because it’s not my fault—”
“But where did this flower come from? I saw people with flowers earlier, too, and I didn’t understand where—”
“Oh.” Kenji drops his hands. He stares at me a moment before saying, “The old sector headquarters. You remember how you guys always had these rare flower arrangements at 45? We never knew where or how they were being sourced, but everyone always thought it was strange that the HQ could get fancy orchids or whatever, while civilians couldn’t get their hands on much more than dandelions. Anyway it was Juliette’s idea, actually. She recommended we track down the flower guy who used to carry out orders for The Reestablishment in this area. He helped us get everything we needed—but the flowers weren’t delivered until late last night. Another reason why J wanted to postpone.”
“Right.” I’m stunned. “Of course.”
My astonishment has nothing to do with discovering that Ella is just as impressive and resourceful as I’ve always known her to be; no, I’m simply incapable of believing anyone would go to such lengths for me.
I’m still reeling a bit as I attempt to pin the flower to my sweater, when Kenji holds up a hand again.
“Uh, don’t do that just yet,” he says. “Come on.”
“Why?”
“Because, man, we still have things to do.”
He turns as if to go, but I remain rooted to the ground.
“What kinds of things?” I ask.
“You know.” He makes an indecipherable gesture, frowning at me. “Wedding things?”
I feel myself tense. “If the purpose of my question has not yet been made evident to you, Kishimoto, allow me to be crystal clear now: I am asking you to be specific.”
He laughs at that. “Do you ever do anything anyone asks you to do without first asking a million questions?”
“No.”
“Right.” He laughs again. “Okay. Well, J is probably going to be getting her hair and makeup done for a little while, which means you can help us finish setting up in the backyard. But first, Winston has a surprise for you.”
“No, thank you.”
Kenji blinks. “What do you mean, no, thank you?”
“I don’t want any more surprises,” I say, my chest constricting at the very thought. “I can’t take any more surprises.”
“Listen, I can honestly understand what you might be feeling right now.” He sighs. “Your head is probably spinning. I tried to tell her—I told her it wasn’t a good idea to spring a wedding on a person, but whatever. She just does her own thing. Anyway, this is a good surprise, I promise. Plus, I can give you a little tour of your new place.”
It’s this last line that uproots me from where I stand.
There’s a short set of steps leading up to the house, and I take them slowly, my heart pounding nervously as I look around. There’s a sizable front porch with freshly painted beams and railings, a decent area to set up a table and chairs when the weather’s nice. The large windows flanking the front door are accented with what appear to be functioning, pale-sage-green shutters, the front door painted to match. Slowly, I push open this door—which has been left ajar— crossing the threshold now with even greater trepidation. The wood floor underfoot creaks as I step into the front hall, the clamor and commotion of the room coming to a sudden, eerie halt as I enter.
Everyone turns to look at me.
The drumbeat in my chest pounds harder, and I feel, for a moment, afloat in this sea of uncertainty. I’m lost for words, having never been prepared, in all my life, to deal with such a strange scenario.
I try to think, then, of what Ella would do.
“Thank you,” I say into the silence. “For everything.”
The crowd erupts into whoops and cheers at that, the tension gone in an instant. People shout congratulations into the din, and as my nerves begin to relax, I’m better able to make out their individual faces—some I recognize; others I don’t. Adam is the first to wave at me from a distant corner, and I notice then that he’s got his free arm wrapped around the waist of a young woman with blond hair.
Alia.
I remember her name. She’s a painfully quiet girl, one of the troupe who collected Ella earlier—and one of Winston’s friends. Today she seems unusually bright and happy.
So does Adam.
I nod at him in response, and he smiles before turning away to whisper something in Alia’s ear. James appears then, almost out of nowhere, tapping Adam on the arm aggressively, after which the three of them engage in a brief, quiet discussion that ends with Alia nodding fervently. She kisses Adam on the cheek before disappearing into a room just down the hall, and I stare at the door of this room long after she’s closed it.