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“Maybe flower girl would be more appropriate?” Charlotte said, scrunching her eyes. “Or perhaps you could play the piano for us… during our ceremony… in Paris.”
“Paris?” Morgan cried, leaping into the air once more. “You guys are really going to kill me. You’re going to kill me! All the kids at school are going to be so jealous…” She began to speak at a rapid pace, leaving Quentin and Charlotte to gaze across the table at one another, their hot dogs and hamburgers uneaten between them. Somehow, life worked out. Somehow, no matter how many rules you broke, no matter how many people you slept with that you weren’t supposed to be with, no matter how lost you felt—life always worked out the way it was supposed to.
“I love you,” Charlotte mouthed to him, her words silent.
“I love you, too,” Quentin mouthed back.
The music was going to unite them as a family. And it was going to keep them strong, forever.
