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We had to get alicense.
Exchangevows.
I can’t figure out how two people opposed to marriage end up married at all, let alone to each other. I didn’t think there was enough alcohol in the world to make me sayI doto a guy I hardly knew.
But for some reason, I did.
And he’s Crew’s brother, which makes it all even worse. I’m embarrassed—and ashamed—about how everything ended between me and Crew.
Crew never mentioned his older brother to me. I could have guessed they’re not close based on that alone, but Oliver confirmed it yesterday, with his matter of factWe don’t have that kind of relationship.
I wonder if that separation is by choice or default. Nothing I know about Crew offers any insight into who he is as a brother. And I know nothing about Oliver, period.
“Tell me you didn’t get them aonesie,” Rachel says, leaning in from my left.
I glance at April, who’s unwrapping a box covered with familiar pink paper.
“The woman at the store recommended it,” I whisper back. “It’s cute! It has ducklings on it!”
My sister laughs and then shifts back into her seat.
“Thank you, Hannah! It’s adorable.” April hands the little yellow outfit over to a waiting Eddie, who folds it up neatly and adds it to the bags of gifts they’ve already received. My mom, sitting next to him, dutifully writes down the gift for thank you notes.
I stand and meet my sister-in-law in the middle of the room for a hug. “You’re welcome. I can’t wait to meet him or her.”
“I can’t wait to not be pregnant,” she comments, rubbing her swollen belly.
I smile, ignoring the strange pang in my chest. Suddenly, it feels like everyone I know is settling down. Getting engaged or announcing pregnancies. Every time I go onto social media, every other post is an announcement. Even Rosie, who spent years dating casually, is in a serious relationship now.
April waddles back over to the front of the room, while I return to my seat next to Rachel.
“It is cute,” she whispers to me.
I roll my eyes and drink more orange juice.
Opening the rest of the gifts takes April and Eddie another half an hour. Three more onesies get added to the large stack by the time the last of the wrapping paper has been ripped. I’m going to have to buy them a better gift.
By the time the final guests leave, I’m yawning. Between the jet lag, time change, and stress, I’m exhausted.
My mom shoos us out into the backyard, declining all offers to help clean up. She always insists her favorite part of hosting is putting everything back together at the end. Since I rarely have anyone over, I’ve never put that theory to the test.
My dad’s behavior is even more predictable than my mom’s. He beelines for the mallets as soon as we’re outside. Croquet could challenge his family or company as his first love.
Eddie, Rachel, and I got him a custom set for his fiftieth birthday a few years ago, and it’s become his most prized possession. He buffs it and everything.
“Who’s playing?” he calls over one shoulder.
“I’m in.” Rachel trudges toward the blue mallet, her usual choice.
“I’ll just watch,” April says, sinking down into one of the patio chairs.
In the many years she and Eddie have been together, she’s only participated in croquet a few times. Her sweet, forgiving personality doesn’t mesh well with our cutthroat competitiveness.
“Eddie?” Dad calls.
After glancing at April, my brother nods. “Yeah. I call yellow.”
I roll my eyes as I kick off my wedges and pad across the springy grass. “Don’t call the same color every damn time. Or there’s no point.”
