Then I noticed Ashley, standing next to Brody and letting some cousins get a gander at her engagement ring. Next, I spotted Grandma Dodie, in a straw hat and drinking an enormous fruity cocktail with a dashing older gentleman I didn’t recognize.
I found Pete and nodded toward the two of them. “Who’s the player with Grandma Dodie?”
Pete looked over. “I just asked Mom. He’s a passenger.”
“Not part of the wedding.”
“Nope. She picked him up at the burger bar.”
“Go, Grandma Dodie.” She did not come to play.
I spied my mom and dad, who were busy fighting the wind to tie up a custom-printed welcome banner that featured an engagement photo of Ashley and Brody hugging and an Audrey Hepburn quote in modern calligraphy that readThe best thing to hold onto in life is each other.
At last, I found our neighbors—who, parents and kids alike, had gathered on the mini-golf course. Mr. and Mrs. Dunn were there, and the Vargases, and Finn’s parents, the Turners. Cooper’s mom was the only parent from our childhood street who had RSVPedno—but only because she was prone to seasickness. She’d made Ashley and Brody promise to come over for a nice dinner once we were all back.
This felt like an audience I could prove something to. I tried again for that slo-mo entrance, but there was too much Astroturf in that section to do it right.
Everybody—and I mean everybody—in that group had heard about my failed attempt at getting married and was curious to get a glimpse of the wreckage of my life. And every single person who greeted me said some jovial variation ofThere’s the runaway bride!before giving me a hug.
It was fine. We all needed something to talk about. It was the only thing I’d done lately to make front-page neighborhood news. And I’d been bracing for this for a while.
They also had a few thoughts on my outfit.
I got teased for my too-formal attire, my too-fancy heels, my “new hairdo,” the color of my lipstick, the length of my hem, and my hot-pink heart-shaped earrings—which were generally assessed to be too hot, too pink, and too heart-shaped.
But Cooper had a point: At least I wasn’t invisible.
The teasing was no surprise.
Whatwassurprising… was Cooper.
He stayed right by my side the whole time, like a professional hype man.
If anybody lingered too long onwhat on earth happenedat my tragic non-wedding, Cooper said, “She came to her senses, that’s what happened.”
Over and over: When they questioned my judgment, or dismissed my choices, or not-too-subtly implied that I looked like a hooker… Cooper just jumped in to point out—or even exaggerate—some quality of mine that made me sound far less pathetic.
Convincingly. Enthusiastically. Like he really believed it.
Improvising lines like, “A girl like this doesn’t have to settle for a guy like that.”
Like he was the VP of PR for my rebranding project.
How much was I paying this guy? He needed a raise!
He boasted about me in ways that I could never boast about myself. “Did you know that JoJo graduated from college Phi Beta Kappa?” he’d demand. “Inmathematics?”
Of course they didn’t know that.
I didn’t even know thatCooperknew that.
It didn’t matter. To almost everybody who lived on our street, I was just the smallest, scrappiest kid in the neighborhood gang.
But Cooper didn’t let that stop him.
“You wouldn’t think a person who looks this good could be smart, too, would you?” he demanded of everyone.
DidI look good? I was too self-conscious to have a read on that.
