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Unknown Caller: But I didn’t call her that. It was an error. It should’ve said the BRIDE would like me to make sure you have the things.
Unknown Caller: RINGS! The RINGS!
Me: I knew what you meant.
Unknown Caller: Then why did you ask?
I’m not sure. Fat thumbs or not, I’m having the most fun I’ve had in weeks engaging in this little text exchange with Lally.
Me: Where should we meet?
Unknown Caller: How do I know you’re really the best man and not some crazy psycho?
Me: You texted me...with a marriage proposal, I might add.
Unknown Caller: That was a mistake. A big, fat thumbed beefsteak.
Unknown Caller: MISTAKE!
Me: Just promise to check your texts before you hit send.
Unknown Caller: Yes, sir. Okay, boss. Aye aye, captain.
I chuckle. Whoever this Lally is with the fat thumbs is spunky. I like it. Sitting down on the bed in the guest room at Nora’s house, I pull out the notebook where I wrote the speech that I hope does Sean proud. I wasn’t able to attend his wedding to Nora all those years ago because I was deployed and he was on leave, but this is what I would’ve said. What I should’ve said to him.
Even though I have most of it committed to memory, I read through and make sure there aren’t any typos—that would be ironic, considering I just gave Lally a hard time about her autocorrect.
I think about Sean, who I considered a brother along with my three brothers, and the last correspondence my grandfather, Chip, sent me when I was still overseas. It was before the accident. He’d written that he hoped I found companionship, someone to love as much as he’d loved our grandmother. It was unusually intimate and surprisingly personal. My grandfather typically kept himself at a mysterious distance.
However, I guess he assumed that I too was familiar with loss—a loved one of the fraternal variety, our parents too, which was why Royal, Ryan, CJ, and our little sister were in Chip’s care. If you could call it that. More like three boys set loose on an island with unlimited freedom, snacks, and promises of pirate treasure.
I still don’t know what to make of the will, the letter, or what Royal thinks is a treasure hunt. I gave up on that a long time ago. I gave up a lot of things.
I’m not interested in money, prestige, or anything flashy. If I could be described in one word, I’d like it to behonor. I try to do the right thing no matter if anyone is watching. If I say I’m going to do something, I follow through. I live according to the truth.
But now that the patriarch, Chip, is gone, that leaves the role to me. It’s one I didn’t ask for and don’t particularly want. I’m a born leader, but the rest of the McGregors are wily, unruly—like herding foxes.
These thoughts are for the day after tomorrow when I return to Coco Key. For now, I have to focus on getting through the rehearsal dinner tonight and the reception tomorrow.
I rub my temples, praying a headache isn’t lurking just beneath the tension. I take a few deep breaths, roll my shoulders, and relax.
It’s not because I’m at Nora’s or found out she has a boyfriend—it’s been years since Sean passed away. Their son, Alex, is great and growing like a weed.
It’s not that Ross isn’t my favorite person either or that I fundamentally disagree with his bachelor party antics.
And this isn’t the kind of headache caused by the injury.
No, it’s something else. Before I nail down what, my phone pings.
Unknown Caller: So, the rings?
Me: They’re safe and sound.
Unknown Caller: But I want to see them with my eggs.
Laughter bursts from me. This woman is hilarious.
Me: It’s well past breakfast, a bit late in the day to have eggs, no?
