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The guys are hiding small smiles and the girls aren’t bothering, smiling widely as they continue setting serving platters on the table. Sophie and Katelyn look on the verge of happy tears.
They must really love Mama Louise’s fried chicken.
Shayanne calls out, “Say cheese!” and before I can react, she takes several pictures of Mama Louise and me, floury hands and all. “Perfect!” Coming closer and proving she knows me better than I’d think, she gets right up on our hands and takes a close-up shot too. “And one for the blog. Caption, bwak-kwak-kwak. I’m delicious.”
“Uh, that’s my phone. How’d you unlock it?”
She looks at the phone in her hand like she has no idea how it got there before giving me a smirk. “I got skills, girl.” She shrugs it off, and I don’t bother asking again because she won’t tell me, anyway.
“Do those skills involve finishing up the lemon meringue pie?” Mama Louise muses.
Chastised, Shayanne sets my phone on the counter and grabs a lemon out of a bowl. Zesting for her life, she assures everyone, “Yes, they do.”
Mama Louise and I finish frying the chicken and washing up as we hear a truck outside.
“Hit the lights,” Cooper yells.
In the dark, Mama Louise holds my hand in hers. Her skin is rough and slightly wrinkled from her years in the sun, but her palm is soft against mine. I can hear her whispering under her breath, “Please, please, please . . . let that boy get this. He’s worked for it, and everyone deserves to hear his gift.” I think she’s praying, not talking to me.
This moment is huge—the moment Bobby’s whole life changes, his dream comes true, and his family doesn’t have to worry anymore.
I’m thrilled for him, excited to witness this moment in his evolution. The instant he becomes The Bobby Tannen, something he’s worked for and wanted for so long.
I have a mental image of him standing on a huge stage, bright lights aimed up at him, and screens framing him with super-sized versions of that roughly gorgeous face. I try to insert myself into the image, standing in the wings, waiting for Bobby to look my way. But the picture won’t come into focus no matter how hard I try. He’s there, crystal-clear and sharp, eyes turned to the audience with his arms spread wide. And my place blurs more and more, people bustling around me and through me as though I don’t exist.
It hits me that no matter how much he says he loves me, this might also be the moment he’ll leave me behind.
I try not to cry. After all, I understand. I want good things for him, and this opportunity is everything.
But there’s still a sliver of me that doesn’t want to be invisible again. For the first time ever, I like being visible . . . to these people, to this town, and most of all, to Bobby. That doesn’t have to change, though. I can still be me—Willow Parker, photographer, blogger, bartender, and niece. Louder and prouder, back straight and eyes unblinking, I can keep going as this new and improved version of myself.
Bobby Tannen’s girl, a label that once sent a jolt of shocked offense through me, suddenly seems like the one I’ll miss the most when I lose it. There’s no way I’ll be his girl once he hits the road, filling stadiums with screaming women, and becomes insta-famous.
In the dark, I squeeze Mama Louise’s supportive hand back, steeling myself. I can’t let tonight be about me. I’ll celebrate with Bobby and his family, feigning blissful unawareness of the impending train coming down the tracks to run me over. I’ll pretend that a girl like me—the quiet, awkward outsider who’s forgettable—really can get it all. The career, the guy, the family, the friends.
The front door opens and swings shut. Bobby’s deep voice calls out, “I know you’re in here. I could smell the chicken from the front porch.”
Cooper flips the light on and we all yell in unison, “Congratulations!”
“Surprise!”
Oops, guess Sophie and James didn’t get the memo on what we were supposed to say because they’re looking around in shock. Cindy Lou decides it’s a perfect time to let out a wail of displeasure at the loud ruckus.
Bobby smiles, though. “Thanks, everyone. You didn’t have to do all this for me.”
Mama Louise lets go of my hand and rushes him. She reaches up to his neck and he bends down to hug her. “Oh, hush, you know good and well that we’re as excited as can be for you.”
When she steps back, his smile looks a little frayed and his dark eyes are tortured. Unbidden, my feet step forward. I need to ease the furrow line between his brows, smooth it out with a gentle caress. He needs to know that it’s okay to celebrate his good fortune, that I understand what this means to him. And to us.
