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“Grandma Georgia doesn’t keep beer in the fridge.”
“Yeah, well, that Coors in your hand isn’t going to help you get Maggie back, is it?”
Cole leans forward. “She’s got a point, there.”
I ignore him. I bet it was his idea to spend the evening at The Moon in the first place.
Cole’s always getting my brother into trouble. Like that time when they were seniors in high school, and Cole got Trent to skip class with him and climb Ajax Peak so they could ski down the next morning.
My grandmother grounded Trent for a month after that.
Smart lady, my gran.
Trent lifts his long-necked bottle and takes a swig. He shakes his head as he slaps it back down on the coaster. “Maybe not, but there’s another thing. Grandma Georgia doesn't know yet.” I sigh. “Shoot. She doesn’t?”
It’s starting to hit me—how big this problem really is. My grandmother loves Maggie as much as Trent does. As much asIdo. Heck, as much as anyone who’s ever met Maggie loves her. She’s one of those people who shines really bright, and we’ve all been basking in her warm glow for half a decade, counting on the fact that one day, she’d be part of the family. “The wedding is in fourteen days,” I say, as though my brother doesn’t know.
He knows. He helped me and Maggie address all those invitations, last spring.
He hired the band. He paid for the venue. He spent three days fly fishing for his bachelor party.
He knows.
Without much thought, I reach out for his bottle of Coors and take a swig.
This is bad. Really bad. Two weeks to the wedding, and he’s not even talking to his future bride.
Cole pipes up again. “Pretty sure you said Coors wouldn’t help the situation.” I swivel to him.
“You know what you just did? You offered to buy me a drink.”
He lifts the corner of his mouth in a smug grin.
“Thought I was pointing out a little hypocrisy.”
“That sure is a big word, coming from a guy who doesn’t even know how to be a Best Man... You’re supposed to give emotional support right up to the big day. How’d you let him mess up this bad?”
“Hey, did you come here straight from the airport?” My brother asks.
“Yes, and I’m exhausted, hungry, and cranky, so let’s get down to business.”
I can’t even believe I’m here, sleep-deprived and in pants so wrinkled they look like they’re fashioned out of crêpe.
“What we need is a plan.” I steal another sip of my brother’s beer. “I’m just having trouble wrapping my head around the fact that she actually packed up and left. Maggie has been by your side for five whole years, laughing at your jokes, cooking you pancakes, folding your underwear. She told me once that she feels like her life didn’t even start until she met you. She adores you.”
“Actually, I fold her underwear. I do the laundry, she—”
“That is not thepoint. The point is, when I left for Italy, you two were fine-tuning the seating chart. Since then, you managed, somehow, to do something to make her pack a suitcase and run away.” Trent’s shoulders slump.
Oops. Maybe I’m getting too worked up. He knows he messed up terribly, and he already feels bad enough about it.
I can tell he’s been busy beating himself up because of the two days of reddish stubble across his chin. The bags under his eyes are about as big as mine. I grab his hand and squeeze it.
“Hey. Sorry. I’m just fired up because… because she’sMaggie, and I love her like you do. I want her to be my sister-in-law. No—I want you to be happy. That’s what’s most important here.”
And the sister-in-law part.
Ever since Trent proposed and she said yes, I’ve been thinking of Maggie as the sister I never had.
