All I can do is nod. If I open my mouth right now, I’m going to turn into a huge blubbering mess, and the last thing I need is another public outburst. I grip his hand tightly for a few minutes, not letting go until I feel like I can speak again.
“I think we really did it this time,” I say with a watery chuckle as I gather my things. “We finally had the grown-up closure conversation. Look at us go.”
“Is that what this is, Eleanor? Closure?”
“I think it is. Right?”
“If that’s what you want it to be.”
“Is that whatyouwant?”
“You know what I want, darlin’,” he says with a shrug, standing up when I rise from my chair. “It’s what I’ve always wanted. But it’s up to you.” I hesitate, opening and closing my mouth several times as I try to find the right words.
No, I don’t want closure. I want you.
“You don’t need to know what you want right this second,” he says, graciously letting me off the hook while I fumble around my own mind, still looking for something to say. “You don’t even need to tell me when you do figure it out, if you don’t want to.”
He holds the door open for me as we step into the pale autumn sunshine. I point over my shoulder at my car, and he gestures wordlessly toward his truck on the opposite side of the parking lot. He pulls me into a hug, the familiar scent of him wrapping around my soul the way his arms wrap around my body.
“But for what it’s worth,” he says as we untangle our arms. “I unblocked your number the second you left the barn a few weeks ago.” He takes a few steps backward, keeping his eyes on me as he heads in the direction of his truck. “If youdowant to tell me, call me anytime.”
He flashes a boyish grin at me, then turns away, shoving his hands in his pockets and half-skipping across the parking lot. “I will, I promise,” I yell after him, laughing.
“I love you, darlin',” he hollers back, slamming his door shut before I have the chance to reply. Whether it’s from fear that I won’t say it back or trying to let me off the hook, I don’t really care. I do love him. “Always have, always will,” I whisper to myself before getting in my car.
Pulling out my phone, I click on Abby’s number and bring it up to my ear. She answers on the second ring.
“How did it go?” She sounds breathless, like she might have been holding it from the moment I told her I was meeting Griffin today.
“I need your help planning something.” I can hear the smile in my voice as much as I can feel it on my face.
“Oooooh,” she says excitedly. “I like the sound of that.”
Chapter 52
Ellie
29th Birthday, The Reunion
Everything has gone off without a hitch. In spite of my insistence that I amnota party planner, I do a damn good job at it. After hours of running around frantically, convinced that there was surely a disaster somewhere that I was missing, I’ve finally taken a moment to soak it all in.
“Ellie, you crushed it,” Connor, the footballer-turned-realtor whose name I have finally internalized, says, bumping my shoulder and handing me a glass of prosecco.
“No way,wecrushed it,” I say, bumping him back. “You’re basically the Picasso of balloon arches.”
“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you’ve got three kids who decided that balloon arches belong at every event, not just birthdays. You should have seen the turkey arch I made for Thanksgiving, that shit would have gotten me on Ellen back in the day.”
The balloon arch over the entrance truly is a work of art–we decided to lean into an elevated school danceaesthetic after coming to the realization that there’s simply no way to do a reunion that isn’t cheesy. Streamers are twisted and hung artfully across the exposed wood beams, intertwined with fairy lights to add a soft glow. But in lieu of a DJ, a live band in the back corner of the room plays classic country hits as people two-step around the black-and-white checkered dancefloor. Instead of crappy punchbowls begging to be spiked, there are champagne flutes and whiskey glasses, and where there would typically be a corny photobooth, we’ve rented a 360 slow-motion video cam. It’s not a desperate attempt to recreate the glory days–it’s a reminder of how we’ve grown, and the people we did it with.
“Well, I’ll know who to call for any of my balloon-arch related needs from now on.”
He squeezes my shoulders in a side-hug, grinning and waving as he walks away to join the boisterous group I’m assuming is the rest of the former Larkspur High varsity team.
My gaze sweeps slowly around the rest of the room, warmth blooming in my chest at the sight of so many familiar faces laughing and reminiscing. It’s exactly what we intended it to be–a walk down memory lane.
“Remember when–”
“Oh my God, that time you–”
