Then the moment passed and the dancers pressed up around the couple, excited and giggling. Others came up on the stage, with Aly and Ethan receiving their well-wishers, nodding and greeting all those that bombarded them with congratulations, like some kind of royalty.
“Suppose I should go give him my best,” Kyle said, not waiting for Winnie to join him as he made his way down the center row and out into the crowded aisle.
All eyes stayed on the stage watching Aly and her new fiancé. The noise of voices and laughter in the auditorium was deafening and Winnie turned to fumble with her bag, searching for her phone to text Clara and find out if she’d gotten away from the backstage crowd. But when she looked up, Winnie was surprised to see that the Riley-Hale assembly, who had been sitting three rows back and been boisterous all night, cheering loudly for their daughter every time the poor girl was on stage, was now strangely subdued. Ransom, in particular looked as though he might be sick. Winnie couldn’t help but notice that the young man’s beautiful, dark complexion paled as his eyes stayed riveted on the couple up on stage.
Winnie snorted to herself. Men! Once a guy had been with a girl, he considered her his property, no matter how long ago they had broken up.
Really, men were so pathetic.
There is saltwater in my veins A thousand moments of memory.
Ancient lives lived,
Sacred time spent.
I gave them to you.
Every recollection
Every instant
Every graze of my tongue on your naked flesh Every exhale of my breath across your breast.
I gave them to you.
You forgot.
Me.
One
There she stood. On the stage. My Aly, forcing a smile meant to convince people that didn’t know her that she was happy. She wasn’t. I knew that because, once, she’d been like the afterthought of memory that lived in my dreams. No one knew her like I did.
My mother’s hand on my arm refocused my attention. She seemed able to do that no matter what disaster I’d stirred up for myself. Her surprise mirrored mine. After all, Aly was family. She belonged to us all.
“Ransom, wait, honey. Just wait a second.” Persistence was my mother’s greatest talent. Despite that tight grip, the paradoxical expression of calm on her face, I didn’t miss the look she threw my father’s way. It was a communication they’d perfected in the thirteen years or so since they found each other again—reading small cues in each other, subtle nuances they meant to keep from me, from my young siblings. It was practiced, perfect.
I still didn’t miss what that glance meant and could feel the unbidden advice before it passed from my mother’s lips.
“Ransom…” A quick shake of my head and she seemed to decide not to bother with softening the blow.
“Keiki kane...” Dad started but I waved him off, noticing how he held onto Mom’s waist, guiding her, maybe, maybe insisting that she give me space with a touch of his large hand. “Wildcat…”
“No, Kona. We can’t just…”
I tuned them out, disregarding the small bickering that went between them. It was always this way with them—Mom wanted to meddle, rescue, Dad wanted to let me sort out shit for myself. But there was nothing either of them could say here, now. Absently I knew that I moved, that the space around me had grown thick with motion. My mother held onto my arm, squeezing my wrist as I walked from the seat, from that stage and the sight of my girl being kissed by someone else.
Someone she’d said yes to.
“Makana!” my mother called out to my baby sister, who broke free from our visiting cousin’s embrace. Her ten-year-old face was grinning when her gaze met my mother’s, and when her eye caught mine, I made sure to slip a feeble smile across my mouth. Makana loved Aly. She was the girl’s teacher, but it was more than just that. Hell, they had a connection that went beyond me, and I wasn’t going to spoil this moment with my own messed up confusion and disappointment. So when Makana ran to us and threw her arms around my father’s wide neck as he lifted her up for a hug, I hung back and let her babble on with excitement that comes from being in the limelight.