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There were tables heaped with food, and most of the town was here, mingling and cheering as we made our way through the crowd.
“Mom,” I chided, turning back to her. “I told you we didn’t want to do anything.”
She patted my cheek. “That’s nice. But you’re my son and Hazel is my daughter-in-law, and there’s no way I was going to let you get away without celebrating.”
Lydia nodded, looping her arm through my mom’s. “It’s not worth fighting us, especially when we’ve teamed up.”
Next to me, Hazel shrugged. “Is that why you forced me to borrow this dress?” she asked Lydia, gesturing to the off-the-shoulder sundress she was wearing. She looked both innocent and devastatingly sexy at the same time—again, she was my Snow White—and I was mentally calculating how long we’d have to stay at this party. I couldn’t wait to take her back to the cabin and peel it off.
“Yup. Wanted you to look good for the photo booth.”
“There’s a photo booth?” I asked, scanning the yard.
“Catch up, Remy. Lovewell knows how to party. And pretty much everyone here owed your mom a favor, so it was time to collect.”
Hazel and I wandered around the gathering, hand in hand, accepting congratulations from what felt like every citizen of Lovewell. My high school track coach, the owner of the service station, and almost every lunch lady we’d ever had was there, ready to celebrate us.
It felt amazing and overwhelmingly shitty all at the same time.
Because, despite my very real feelings and my ever-present, insatiable desire, this marriage wasn’t built to last. We’d agreed to one year, and no matter how amazing it felt right not, I could not hold her back. She was focused and determined and excited about her future. I wouldn’t take that away from her.
I would honor our commitment to the one-year marriage gig. But I was determined to soak up every moment I had with her until then.
And tonight, I’d work extra hard to honor her. Because she was glowing. Hazel wasn’t used to attention or being showered with love. Her whole life, she hadn’t felt like she mattered to anyone but her brother. But she mattered to me. And with Lovewell’s help, I thought she might be convinced.
I headed over to where my brothers were manning the fire pit and Goldie and Tucker were roasting marshmallows. Paz was wearing shiny shoes and sporting a close shave, as usual, but pulled me in for a man hug and uttered a quiet congratulations.
Part of me wanted to punch him for the way he had talked about my wife and the way he had been treating me for the last few months. But my mother would skin me alive with a rusty axe if I dared disrupt her lovely party. So I returned the hug and thanked him for his well wishes.
“Uncle Remy!” Goldie squealed, jumping into my arms. She had melted marshmallow all over her face and stuck in her blond pigtails. “Summer vacation is awesome! Alice takes me to camp, and we made friendship bracelets.” She held up a tiny arm wrapped in at least a dozen of them in every color of the rainbow. “Can I make one for you and for Auntie Hazel?”
I gave her a squeeze. “We would love that so much.”
Henri snorted and held up an arm covered in bracelets made with glittery beads and what looked like a princess crown charm.
Chuckling, I set Goldie on her feet and tugged on a sticky pigtail. “I’m so glad you’re here to celebrate with us, kid.”
“Uncle Remy,” she said, tugging on my arm, “when did you know that you loved Auntie Hazel and wanted to marry her?”
I squatted so I was eye level with her and scratched my beard, searching for a child-appropriate answer. “Hmm. I guess it was when she threw a blueberry pie in my face,” I said, and in that moment, I realized that was the truth. “She threw one of Miss Bernice’s famous pies at me. It was an accident, or at least I think it was. Covered in crumbling crust, I looked down at her, blueberry goo stinging my eyes, and realized I had to marry her.”
“Aww,” Goldie said, clasping her hands over her heart like a miniature version of a swooning woman. “That is so romantic.”
“You deserved it. The pie in the face,” Henri clarified.
I shrugged and stood, taking a sip of water. “Probably.”
“Training hard?” he asked, his usual gruff manner melting in the presence of his almost adopted daughter. Henri and Alice had been working through the process of formally adopting Goldie and Tucker, and we were counting the days until they were legally a family.
I nodded. “Nonstop. Lift, chop, protein shake, sleep, and repeat.”
“Good man.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “I wish I had known. That you were planning to marry Hazel. I would have taken you out. We could have talked, man to man.”
I turned toward my brother, the most silent of the strong and silent variety. “Really? Talk? You?”
He punched my shoulder. “Not too much talking. We could have grilled steaks. Lit a huge fire and burned shit. And then, you know, talked about life or some shit.”
“We can still do that,” I said. “Especially since I’m a married man now. I could give you some tips.” I lifted my chin, gesturing to where Alice sat on the other side of the fire, chatting animatedly with some of the teachers from school. “You ever gonna make it legal?”
