My lips twitch without my permission. “Seriously, my life is being held together by my Notes app and a punishingly thorough twelve-step skin-care routine, so if you break my LED light mask, Iwillkill you and no one will ever find the body.”
“Ooh. Who told you ruthless Mob Boss Chuck is my very favorite Chuck?” He flops back on my bed, bouncing me and my laptop like a pool noodle in a tidal wave.
“I’m serious, Powell! I’ve thought about it a lot this past year, and I think I could be capable of violence if properly provoked.”
He bobs and weaves his head away from me, my hungover brain sloshing around my skull. It takes a few seconds for either of us to register that my laptop is ringing.
I groan at the sound. Ethan and I are finally starting to feel like us. The last thing I need is Hurricane Laurel and her Petey drama. Ethan tends to regard their chaotic push-pull with an unearned gravity. Any discussion will undoubtedly unravel our day, devolving into lengthy dissections of breakup timelines, and I was starting to look forward to an afternoon basket of cheesy fries.
Ethan peers at me through my light mask. “Did I summon an uncle?” he asks, gesturing at the ringing computer. “Or the ex-father-in-law your work nemesis is setting you up with?”
“Stacy’s not—It’s Laurel. She’s been on a FaceTiming kick since the whole…” I do a littleyada yadagesture with my hand.
My marriage fell apart, my life exploded, yada yada.
He nods. “You going to get it?”
“I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“Answer it. I don’t mind.”
I hesitate but then suck it up and accept the call. Her face and lavender space buns fill the screen, framed by lush green leaves and imposing pine tree trunks.
“Lolo!” Ethan yells. His enthusiasm takes me by surprise. I look around out of instinct to make sure we’re not bothering anyone and then remember we’re alone in my room.
“Jason Voorhees?” she squeals back, which gets Ethan to finally remove the mask. Her face relaxes. “Ethel!” Laurelrarely calls him Ethan to his face, preferring to riff on the first letter. “This is perfect. You’re both here.”
“E’s there too?” a familiar voice asks out of frame. The sound of it clenches my gut.
Maybe she hasn’t asked yet. Maybe she changed her mind.
Laurel’s head swivels toward the man off-screen. “See? I knew she was going to draw him out of whatever sad rest stop he was parked in. Did you listen to my voice memo last night about the spot we’re camped by? Wet Ted’s Canoe Outfitters?”
I glance at the words Sharpied on my hand. Well, that solvesthatmystery.
Ethan leans closer to the phone. “Is that Pete’s arm?”
Petey pops into view. Laurel brightens as he presses his head to hers affectionately. At least theylookhappy. That’s something.
“Hey!” He wraps his arms around Laurel and squeezes. “Hi. What’s going on, E? What are you doing at Charley’s?” Petey always says “hi” at least three ways and has never been anything less than genuinely ecstatic to see any person. Ever. The sweet doofus is so upbeat and good-natured, it borders on ridiculous. He busts into every conversation like a ripped Kool-Aid Man, shifting the equilibrium until everyone in his presence is grinning like an idiot. Petey simply has that effect on people.
“I have some free time before a festival next weekend. Then I might head east through Canada or maybe west to Montana.”
He looks to me, as though seeking confirmation on his itinerary for Peter Pan–ing about the United States, but I ignore it. “Is there a reason for this call?” I hasten to ask. Anticipatory nausea sits in the pit of my stomach. I need her to put me out of my misery.
“Do you want to tell them?” They look at each other with a manic, electric energy that seems to crackle around them.
My stomach somersaults. “Tell us what?” I know what’s happening. I can’tbelieveit’s happening, but I know it is.
Laurel breathes in deep, and any lingering hope I had plummets through the floor beneath me.
Don’t say it. Don’t say it.
“I asked Peter to marry me, and he said yes!”
So it happened.
Okay. It’s okay. I expected this part.
