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“Alex Weaver’s getting married,” says Finn, referring to our childhood neighbor and friend. Alex and his parents had lived next door at our old house.
“I don’t understand,” I say. “What’s the catch?”
“The wedding’s at the beach,” says West.
“Wait,” I say, confused. “You’re going too?”
“He’s my plus-one,” says my brother.
“What about you?” I ask Sully.
“No can do,” he says, shaking his head. “I start a new project next week. Too late for me to shift things around.”
“Which beach?” I ask, my heart pounding. If he says Hawaii, I’m going to throw up.
“Outer Banks,” says Finn.
Better than I expected, but that’s still a plane ride away. I haven’t been on a plane since before our parents died. My brother reads my hesitation immediately.
“It’s a ten-hour drive,” he says, his voice gentle. He knows what he’s asking of me.
“We’ll split the drive,” says West easily. “It’ll be fun.” He winks.
Fun. Right. I take a deep breath, realizing there’s no easy way out of this, not without the humiliation of spilling my secrets in front of my cousin, my brother, and his best friend.
A beach wedding means it’ll be small, so not too many people to contend with. Driving there will take longer, but it means we can get there without the stress of airline travel. It’ll keep Finn off my back about leaving the house, and he’ll help me figure out a way to afford some more help around Hale House.
I don’t want to leave the safety of my tiny corner of New Haven, but damn it… I think I have to.
“All right. I’ll go.”
Five hundred miles from my front door. Ten hours in a car with my brother.
And Weston Thorpe. God help me.
4
Raleigh
“I hear they got a helluva deal on this place,” Mom stage-whispers as we stroll through the lobby of the resort.
The place isn’t huge, but it’s gorgeous; that Carolina coastal classy, all warm and bright and inviting, much like its location on the beach. We’d arrived at midday, giving us plenty of time to check in and relax before meeting the happy couple at the welcome reception this afternoon.
Sorry, not a couple. Throuple is the term my mother used. Because there are three people getting married, not two.
She’d saved that little nugget of information for the plane, knowing I’d be wound tight with nerves during the flight. Smart woman, my mother. It worked like a charm. I didn’t even know three people could get married. Or maybe it’s a commitment ceremony? Maybe I should have looked it up. Either way, it’s pretty cool.
I asked again if the throuple would care that my parents had brought a total stranger. Mom gave me that look, that mind your manners or so help me look I had reason to fear growing up.
Turns out, it works on twenty-four-year-olds as well as teenagers.
It’s not like I’d have a problem with people in unusual relationships. I might not be the most experienced guy around, but I’m well aware that the world’s a big place, and not everybody’s the same. So what that Mrs. Weaver’s son fell in love with two people? More power to them all, I say.
Though the fact that Alex Weaver fell in love with a girl and a guy tripped me up for a few minutes.
Tugging at the collar of my shirt, I follow my parents into a small ballroom down the hall from the main foyer. A hand-lettered sign welcomes the guests of the Weaver-James-Munroe wedding. There are maybe a dozen people already inside, chatting and smiling. A good-looking guy with intense blue eyes greets us as we file in.
“Hi there,” he says, holding out his hand to my parents. “I’m Finn Hale, Alex’s best man.”
