His arm comes around my shoulders, and I curl against him, head tucked under his chin, eyes closing.
I want this to be a new start. I want to sort out my mess. Find Ren when I have a clear path forward. I want to have mornings and nights and alifewith him.
I want this to be a love story.
But there’s also this. A quiet moment worth the kind of attention I’ve been reserving for work. An opportunity to let my thoughts settle. To feel Ren’s strong arm around me, to let everything we’ve just told each other sink in.
* * *
I don’t know how much time has passed, but soon Sasha is calling Ren on his phone, demanding to know where we are, and we have to move on to the reason we’re all here: Stevie and Leo’s big day.
We stand slowly, brushing the sand off our pants, stretching our legs. As we amble back in the direction of the house, the sun warming our shoulders, our hands find each other’s, holding on tight.
chapter thirty
Sasha’s efforts have, once again, paid off. When we get back to the house, everything is running smoothly, if quickly. Thad and Alex are down at the lighthouse, setting up the last of what was delivered yesterday. Hannah and Greg are in town picking up the flowers. My parents are tidying up the house, readying it for relatives planning to stop by before the wedding.
As we enter the kitchen, Sasha gives Ren his car keys and me a steaming mug of coffee. “Kegs are under your name at Clyde’s,” she says to him as she ushers me out of the room. “Photographer will be here in an hour to take pictures of us getting ready, so you better depuff those eyes,” she says to me. “Did you sleep atalllast night?”
Ren smiles a little wistfully at me before Sasha turns me away.
She herds me upstairs to my parents’ room, the one with the best light streaming in through the picture window. As soon as I walk through the door, arms are coming around me with so much force they knock me off-balance. Some of the coffee sloshes out of my mug, and Sasha takes it from me and sets it aside.
“I’m so sorry,” Stevie says when she releases me. Her face is all screwed up, nose red. “I didn’t mean to tell everyone, it just came out.”
Sometimes, Stevie will surprise me with something that fits the classic younger sister stereotype. For the most part, she’s just my friend, our age gap small enough that it doesn’t make that much of a difference. She’s never needed all that much taking care of, for instance. In fact, oftentimes, she’s the one who’s had to take care of me. But there are moments, like last night, when our birth order comes starkly into view. Case in point: her declaring for the whole world that I’m sleeping with Ren, and her explanation that shedidn’t mean to.
“You could have talked to me about it first,” I say as the door closes quietly behind us—Sasha leaving.
Stevie sighs, flops onto the edge of our parents’ bed.
“Stevie, youknowRen and I being together is a big deal. Exactly the kind of thing Mom would freak out about. I’m not sure it was thebestmoment to bring it up.”
“Yes, because she cares so much about you,” she says, twirling her engagement ring around on her finger. “Our whole lives, it’s always been you Mom worries about.”
“Stevie. You don’t want Mom to want to be your therapist.”
“Maybe sometimes I do,” she says, mouth twisting. “Maybe sometimes I do want her to worry about me, just a bit.”
I don’t answer right away. The picture she’s painting is completely at odds with what I’ve spent so much of my life believing: I needed to escape our mom’s worry so I could justlive, prove to her I was steady enough for her not to read into every detail of my life like I was one of her patients. But Stevie never had this impulse because our mom doesn’t ask after her in the same way. If Stevie has a problem, is stressed out, overwhelmed, Stevie just goes to her. I always assumed the difference was because she trusted Stevie to handle things on her own, to speak up if she needed help.But maybe it would begin to feel like my mom cared a little less if shedidn’task me so many questions.
“Mom worries about you too,” I say. When Stevie protests, I cut in with, “She does. You two have a special bond, so maybe it doesn’t always come off that way. But she trusts you in a way she doesn’t trust me.”
“Well, I am sorry I gave her so much to worry about,” Stevie says.
“I get what you mean, though,” I tell her, even if I’m still wrapping my head around it. “At least you have the perfect supporter in Leo. I see how well he looks after you.”
“Yes, like last night when he asked why I thought our rehearsal dinner was the time to share your secret with everyone. In a very gentle way, of course.”
I roll my eyes good-naturedly. “It’s okay,” I say. “It’s not like you made something up.”
“Wait, so you and Renaresleeping together?” she asks sarcastically.
“Stevie,” I say. “You obviously figured it out.”
“Maybe, but you didn’t actually tell me any details.”
“It’s messy,” I sigh.
