Page 828 of End Game

They don't have to want my life.

They have to stop treating the parts they don't understand like they're temporary mistakes waiting to disappear.

Mom's voice comes softer through the phone. “Can I still help?”

I wipe at my cheek. “Yeah, Mom.”

“And your father would like to know if he's allowed to walk you down the aisle, but he's pretending he didn't ask me to ask.”

Dad mutters something under his breath.

I laugh hard enough that the tears finally spill.

“Yeah. He can.”

“All right,” he says, and now he sounds suspiciously rough too.

When we hang up, I sit there for a second staring at my phone.

Nothing is fixed.

Maybe that's why it feels real.

Nobody apologized for every shitty thing we've done to each other. Nobody promised never to struggle again. My parents still don't particularly like the fact that their daughter is in love with four men.

But they want to come to my wedding.

They know exactly who will be standing beside us when they do.

And they are coming anyway.

Griffin pulls me sideways against him before I can decide whether I'm going to cry more.

I let him.

Across the table, Dex is wiping underneath one eye.

I point at him. “Are you crying?”

“No.”

“You absolutely are.”

“Weddings are emotionally manipulative.”

Micah wraps an arm around his shoulders, and Dex immediately leans into him despite apparently not crying.

“What about your sister?” Griffin asks.

“That’s a problem for another day,” I answer with a laugh.

Ronan glances down at the notebook.

Then back at me.

“So. Summer.”

I laugh into Griffin's shoulder. “Summer.”