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Then they’re hugging, and my brother extends an arm and pulls me into the hug too. Somehow Dad joins us, piling on, and the four of us have this weird, wonderful little moment beneath the stars where we’re crying but smiling too.
“Thank you, Tuck,” Abel says. “I’m not perfect either. Some of the choices I’ve made... yeah, regrettable for sure.”
Tuck chuckles, releasing us from the hug. “No shit.”
“But aren’t we at a great fucking party celebrating all the great fucking things that have come of our mistakes?” Abel asks. “Look at you and Maren. Lu and Riley. Now it’s our turn. Mine and Jen’s. Maybe I’m not the guy you pictured for her?—”
“Oh, stop that.” Tuck waves him away. “Of course I want a stand-up guy like you for Jen. You just made it very clear for a very long time that you didn’t want what she did. But now that you’re being honest about... well, everything, I don’t hate y’all together. In fact.” He takes a breath. “I like the idea of y’all taking care of each other. I really do think you’ll make each other happy.”
At first, I think I’ve misheard him. Is Tuck saying what I think he is?
Is he complimenting us? After everything we’ve done?
Abel and I exchange a wide-eyed glance.
“Thank you for saying that,” I manage.
Abel nods. “Means a lot.”
“No more lies, okay?” Tuck points at us. “I want y’alls’ word. Break it, and we’re gonna have a problem.”
I grab my brother’s hand. “I promise, Tuck.”
“You know I only mean well,” Abel says. “You have my word, brother.”
I feel all the things right now. But most of all, I feel love.
Love for my fiancé, who’s continually encouraging me to do brave things.
For my dad, who apparently is not half bad at playing matchmaker.
And for my brother, who forgave me for some pretty egregious sins.
“Can we go back to the party?” Dad glances over his shoulder. “I gave the DJ a request or two.”
My brother groans. “Dear God, if you asked him to play that song about a man with slow hands?—”
“It’s Lady’s favorite,” Dad sniffs. “And what Lady wants, she gets.”
I loop my arm through his. “I was wondering where Abel got his thoughtfulness from. Let’s go dance.”
And we do.
I dance with Mollie. Bump hips with Maren. Spin Lady around while she mouths the words to “Slow Hands” before returning her to Dad.
I even dance with Tuck, who’s doing a hilariously terrible version of the shopping cart, plucking invisible items from invisible shelves and plopping them into his invisible cart.
Mostly, though, I dance with Abel. I circle my arms around his neck and he curls an arm around my waist. We dance with all our favorite people beneath a wide-open night sky.
People stay late. Stede’s normally closes at ten, but Rileymust make an exception for us, because it’s after midnight when we finally head for our golf cart.
“Too bad we don’t have the minivan to drive home,” Abel teases.
I nudge him. “First love, then marriage. Then baby in the baby carriage.”
“But I feel doing things in order is not our style.”
Grinning, I climb into the cart. “I kinda like that about us.”
