Page 48 of Cabin Fever

Which sounds like absolute BS.

“He'll be here,” Dahlia says, materializing beside me in her reception dress. A party dress from the nineties with spaghetti straps. Her hair is pulled up, and she looks like Sparkle and Shine Barbie with a Boho wash.

Dahlia hands me a flute of champagne. “He's the best man. He still has to give the toast.”

“No, I know.” I take a sip. “Just wanted to make sure he was okay. It was hot on the beach.”

“Mm.” Dahlia grins. “Worried about heat stroke.”

“Exactly. He was in a full suit.”

The party heats up around us with passed appetizers and plenty of room to socialize. Theo and Dahlia's first dance grows into a group affair when the band swings the tempo, and Theo reprises his captain role when Garrett throws him his hat. Just for Dahlia.

When Dahlia comes over to take a break, Renata clinks her glass and mentions that she and her fiancé are thinking of a beach wedding too, and Dahlia lifts her glass to me and mouths “Fourteen.”

We both drink.

Mom dances with Denny while Rose chats with Theo, and I spot Dad sitting at a far table, nursing a glass of wine. He’s talking to someone whom I can’t ID by the back of their head, but his eyes flick to the dance floor, watching Mom spin.

Then, at 8:40, two things happen in the same minute.

The first is that Aunt Bev attempts to climb onto the band's riser, and my contingency snaps into reality. I dispatch Rhys to be charming and ask her to dance while Garrett simultaneously offers to hold her drink, swapping it for an identical-looking spirit-free version. A chair with good sight lines and a plate of cake appears at stage left, and Bev lands in it mid-pivot, delighted.

I’m grinning to myself when the second one drops.

The doors open, and in walks Finn. His suit pants are a little wrinkled, his jacket slung over his arm. His good white shirt is open at the collar with a smear of something dark on one of his cuffs.

My heart plummets. Something he needed to take care of?

My brain starts cataloging as he walks over to Theo and Dahlia. Is that a red scratch across the back of his right hand?

He says something to Theo, then goes straight to the mic. He waits for the band to land on the final chord of the song, then leans in.

“Hey, everyone. Sorry I'm late,” Finn says.

Everyone turns to him, delighted before he even says anything. My old annoyance returns a fraction. “I was— “ He draws a breath, and his eyes sweep the room, landing on me for half a second, then brushing away. “Ah . . .running an errand. Best man business. Very official.”

The crowd chuckles.

Then he starts his speech.

“Growing up, we didn't get to pick our neighbors. Nobody consulted us. Four kids got dropped onto the same block on Larkspur Street, and we were just supposed to make it work. Theo was the kid who'd offer you half his snack and then, thirty minutes later, inform you the offer had been reviewed and rescinded. You all know the phrase. It's on the slideshow. No takebacks wasn't a cute saying on our street. It was official legislation.”

Finn delivers each line with dramatic perfection. He has everyone eating out of the palm of his hand.

“It existed because of this man. We had to invent a law to force Theo not to change his mind, and, as you can see, it worked spectacularly. But here's the part I've never told anyone, and Theo, I'm sorry, I know you had the toast pre-approved, this part's off the notecard.” Finn gives a dramatic pause.

“Everybody on our block knew I grew up in the house with the trampoline. Technically true. What you couldn't see from over the fence was that it was also the house where nobody was home. My folks worked like their lives depended on it. Because they did, and I love them for it. They’re the reason I know how to work hard. But a kid doesn't understand payroll. A kid understands that the lights are off again, so I got very good, very young, at being the kind of kid other families like having around. I've been told I'm charming.” He grins, pushing up the sleeves of his shirt, and one of the bridesmaids hoots.

“Well, that's where it comes from. Charm is a skill you learn when you can't afford for people to stop inviting you to dinner.”

My heart cracks in half. How did we not know this was happening? I look to Dahlia and Theo. Neither of them looks surprised, and I must feel the same way Dahlia did when she was sitting in my cabin. Did everyone know Finn’s family was struggling except me?

Finn continues, “The reason I'm telling you this at a wedding is because one specific night, my twelfth birthday, both my parents got stuck on shifts. It happens. Wasn’t their fault. I told the Quinn girls that we'd 'celebrated the night before,' which was a lie, and I was sitting on my back steps eating cereal at seven o'clock when—” Finn’s nose scrunches. He sniffs and clears his throat. “When Theo, Dahlia, and Harper came through the gate. Dahlia had a Pop-Tart with a birthday candle stuck in it, already lit, walking slowly across the yard so it wouldn't go out. Harper was singing the whole song by herself until she shamed the other two into joining.”

He pauses for laughter, and I can’t tell if he’s looking at me. My eyes are too full of tears to see anything but blurred shapes.

“Harper asked me what my favorite dinner was. Then she vanished and returned with a box of taquitos. Close enough.” More laughter. “And Theo handed me one of his walkie-talkies. The good ones. Half of the pair his grandfather gave him. Every night for the next year, that thing crackled at nine o'clock. Storms. School nights. Every night around nine o'clock, 'You there?'”