“Oh no,” Aunt Karen says quickly. “It’ll just be . . . you know. This is her night. And Patty’s night,” she adds awkwardly.
As soon as she says it, I realize she’s never mentioned Patty by name before, ever.
“And I’m not here to complicate things,” she continues. “Deenie and I have a lot to talk about, obviously, and I owe her . . .” She trails off, shaking her head. “But not tonight. Tonight, I just wanted to be here.”
“Well, thanks for coming, I guess.”
“Is that you, mamaleh?”
I swivel to find Grandma Betty, holding one of the picture frame centerpieces—which she sets facedown on the table as she settles into the chair beside me.
Oh my goodness. Family overload.
“Hi, Grandma.”
I find I’m sucking in my stomach. I guess I feel self-conscious around her sometimes. For just a split second, I wish I’d worn Spanx.
“Have you met Aunt Karen?” I ask quickly. “I know you know Abby.”
“Of course. Lovely to see both of you again.”
I tap the edge of Grandma’s frame. “What picture is that?”
“It’s a very unflattering photograph of me. I want to know who picked this to be a centerpiece.” She shakes her head and smiles. “I’m lodging a formal complaint.”
That kind of throws me. I didn’t know old people still got self-conscious about that stuff. Now I totally want to see the picture, of course—and Abby must be thinking the exact same thing. “Betty, you have to show us! We won’t tell anyone.”
“If you show us, I’ll hide it for you,” I add.
Grandma grimaces but turns the frame over in her hands.
Abby gasps. “Oh my God, that’s a stunning picture.”
And it is. Holy shit. This photo. It’s black and white, and Patty’s just a baby, so it must be from the late sixties. But Grandma’s the one I can’t take my eyes off of. She’s in her twenties, smiling gently. Balancing Patty on her hip and looking straight at the camera.
She looks exactly like me, except old-timey and beautiful.
And she’s fat.
When I look up, she’s gazing at me with an expression I can’t quite read. “I’m hard on you, aren’t I?”
I blush. “I don’t know.”
“I hated being overweight. I gained seventy pounds when I was pregnant with your mother. I felt like I was living in a different person’s body.”
I pause. Inhale. “I get that.” Exhale. “But I don’t feel like that, you know?”
“I know, and that’s a good thing. I’m so sorry, mamaleh. I shouldn’t turn my issues into your issues.” She takes my hand and squeezes it. “You are absolutely beautiful.”
I feel my cheeks burn. Here’s the thing: I’m used to being told I have a pretty face. Or pretty hair, or pretty eyes. But it’s different, being called beautiful. Just beautiful, without conditions. And for some reason, it’s even stranger hearing it from Grandma Betty than from Reid.
It makes my eyes prickle.
Grandma clears her throat. “Anyway, wasn’t that just the loveliest ceremony?”
“It was,” Abby says.
Aunt Karen shrugs. “It was nice,” she says softly.
That shrug. The particular set of Aunt Karen’s shoulders. It’s as if that shrug contains forty years of secrets and fighting and road trips and bunk beds.
The thing is, it’s exactly how Nadine shrugs.
And suddenly, I can picture it: Cassie and me, twenty years from now. Married. To Mina. To Reid. Or not. Maybe we’ll marry people we haven’t even met yet. Maybe we’ll never marry at all. We might see each other every day. We might see each other once a year. Maybe it will ebb and flow and change with the decades. Maybe we’ll never pin it down.
I think every relationship is actually a million relationships.
I can’t decide if that’s a bad thing.
It’s better when the sun sets. I think it’s the twinkle lights. There’s something magical about twinkle lights on tree branches. A few people have gone home, but even more people are dancing, and Abby and Nick are right in the middle of it. I haven’t talked Reid into dancing yet. Right now, he’s primarily focused on being smug about the paper pennant cake topper.
Which, admittedly, was his idea.
Which, admittedly, turned out adorably.
But now we’re back at the table, and Reid’s holding my hand while talking to Olivia, and Xavier’s passed out in Cassie’s arms. Mina’s eating a cupcake, wiping her hands on a napkin between bites. But despite the movement all around us, there’s this stillness in the air.
“I could never actually be a wedding photographer,” says Olivia.
“Why not?”
“Too many perfect moments. I can’t keep up with them.”
I feel suddenly choked up. “Yeah.”
Reid squeezes my hand.
The song changes to something loud and fast, and I catch a glimpse of Isaac on the makeshift dance floor, spinning one of my moms’ friends in circles. I think he’s wearing a bunch of my magazine bead napkin holders as bracelets. Aunt Liz is perched on Xav’s tire swing, gesturing emphatically, making my moms laugh. And Abby’s parents are defiantly slow-dancing, despite the music. It’s actually kind of sweet.
“I think I’m going to snap a few more pictures,” Olivia says.
“Okay,” Cassie and I say in unison, with perfectly matching intonation.
Olivia narrows her eyes, pointing a finger at each of us. “It’s like you two are twins or something.” As she walks away, she pantomimes an explosion from her head. Mind. Blown.
Mina giggles, and she and Cassie exchange these smiley, soft-eyed glances. I look away quickly. Not because I’m an eleven-year-old boy.
Just—you know. So they can have their moment.
I think this is me letting go. Bit by bit. I think these are our tiny steps away from each other. Making not-quite-identical footprints in not-quite-opposite directions.
And it’s the end of the world and the beginning of the world and we’re seventeen.
It’s an awesome thing.
Acknowledgments
Hi, reader! My book is in your hands. I’ve been anticipating this moment like Molly anticipated her first kiss. There were moments when I was certain this story would never come together.
Somehow it did. Because I have some really awesome wingmen, wingwomen, and wingpeople who made this book happen.
Warmest thanks to:
Brooks Sherman, best of dudes and best of agents. You are wise and weird and wonderful, and I am so lucky to have you in my corner.
Donna Bray, who made this book come alive. You believed in Molly when I didn’t, and you helped me find this story’s heart. All my bee ladies are for you.