Everyone raises their glass and takes a sip as Josh makes his way over to us.
“I behaved.”
“Kind of,” Oliver says, draining the rest of his glass. “Also, who made you best man?”
“What, you were going to pick Grayson?”
“I was going to pick Stella since she has bigger balls than you. Or maybe Jack since I like him the most right now.”
“Since it’s not real, it doesn’t matter.” Josh shrugs as Delia wraps her arms around his middle.
“I’m so sorry for that. I made him promise to behave, but we all know that’s like trying to control a tornado,” Delia says as she looks up at him. “All things considered, it could’ve been worse.”
“It will be,” Josh promises. “The actual speech will be much more fun.”
She sighs. “This is the first time we’ve let him around adults since Everett was born, he’s a bit rusty.”
“Honestly, I’m not surprised. If someone in my family decides to do a speech, they’ll be doing the same. My aunts and uncles are all smartasses who would thrive on chaos,” I explain.
When I was little, my family was always up to mischief, usually my father was the object of their torment. It didn’t matter that he was the oldest of them, he was the easiest target. Daddy loved his hair and would spend hours making sure it was always in the right place, he agonized over his clothes, and it’s still a constant joke. Vanity will be my father’s ultimate downfall.
“Good, then we’ll find out everything we can about you so we can embarrass you tomorrow at the rehearsal.”
Linda and my father approach, and Oliver takes my hand, squeezing just a little.
“Maren, dear, your father is getting tired, and I need to set up his medication. How much longer will this be?”
I look to my father, who rolls his eyes, saying, “I’m fine, Linda.”
“You are not fine. You are sick and need to take care of yourself. Maren doesn’t understand what it’s like for you. She doesn’t come around often enough to see your daily struggles,” Linda argues. “I’m the one who manages everything, and believe me, I know when you’re overdoing it and need rest.”
He closes his eyes but nods. “You’re right.”
I want to scream. To throw my hands up and tell him to be a man, take a stand, not to let her control this, but I’ve learned that it doesn’t help. “I would be happy to get you situated somewhere so you don’t have to leave, Daddy. I really would like for you to stay and spend time with the family.”
He looks to me. “I would too. Maybe once I take my medications . . .”
“And a nap,” Linda adds on.
“And a nap, I’ll come back down.”
Aunt Eileen stops next to my dad. “Are you heading up to bed, Pat?”
“Yes, I’m tired. Linda is making sure I don’t overdo it before the big day.”
She looks to Linda and makes a sound through her nose. “I see.” I share a glance with my aunt because we both know the truth—Linda is done. “Well, it’s too bad you can’t tough it out a bit longer. We were going to sit in those chairs by the lake, but I understand that Linda might think it would be too hard for you to relax in all this fresh air. She often has you guys leaving early when she gets tired too.”
Linda bristles. “I’m not saying it’s too hard to sit. I’m saying your brother is ill and needs to rest.”
“Then let him rest by the shoreline. We’ll make sure he doesn’t get up,” she suggests. “He also hasn’t gotten to see his daughter and siblings in quite some time, which means he can push a little if he thinks he’s up to it. Since we all know the nature of his illness, we also know that time is fleeting. So, if my brother thinks he can manage, he should get the choice. Do you think you can manage it, Pat?”
Dad looks to Linda.
There is nothing she hates more than being questioned or talked into a corner. “If that’s what Patrick wants, then fine. But I know my husband, and he is ready to lie down.”
My father smiles. “I’d like to stay, sweetheart. The fresh air is good for me, and we can rest in the chairs. Will you come sit with us?” Daddy asks Oliver and me.
“Of course,” Oliver says before I can. We walk down there, Oliver helping my father down the pathway.
“This is very dangerous for you,” Linda says as she slips a little, but Oliver steadies her. “If I knew I might break my neck to spend some time with your sisters, I would’ve protested more. This is incredibly dangerous for you. If you fall, then what?”
“The crew has plans to build steps so this isn’t quite so steep, but we had to focus on the indoors first,” Oliver explains.
“Don’t worry,” Dad says with a wave of his arm. “I’m being careful.”
We reach the bottom and get Daddy settled, and Aunt Marie comes down with a pillow and blanket. “Here, this way Pat can rest and be comfortable.”
They fuss over him, and he rolls his eyes. “Enough. I’m fine.”
I kiss his cheek. “Everyone just loves you.”
We all sit around, telling stories of when I was little, and Oliver laughs as my family regales him with stories of my childhood that no one should know. How I got sick after my uncles took me on the spinning cups ride at the beach. How I cried after my first kiss because I thought he was trying to do something to hurt me with his tongue. And, of course, how I got locked in the store refrigerator when I was seven and playing hide and seek.
The Parkersons make their way over to us and start with their own stories. I end up perched on Oliver’s leg, and his hand moves up and down my back as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. It feels like it is too.
It’s as though this man is exactly the man I’ve always wanted. As though, a few days ago, I didn’t have an engagement called off.
This makes no sense. How can I not be completely wrecked over losing one-point-oh? I should be curled in a ball, sobbing about my lost love, but I’ve barely thought about him.
I haven’t wished it were his lips kissing me or his hand in mine. If that isn’t a sign that I never should’ve agreed to marry him, then I don’t know what is.
But this Oliver . . . he’s different.
He’s kind and funny and open and adorable. He has gone out of his way to make me comfortable and befriend my family.
I think I might be going insane because a part of me wonders if maybe there’s something here.
I look down at him, and he smiles. “What?”
“Nothing,” I say quickly, my hair falling over my face.
Oliver doesn’t let me get away with it, he pushes it back, forcing me to look at him. “Are you okay?”
I don’t feel okay. I feel lost and out of control, but I won’t say that aloud. Instead, I nod and focus on my emotions.
I like this. I like being with him, and none of this is supposed to be real. I don’t want to like him, at least not as more than a friend. Only, when he looks at me like this, I forget it’s a ruse.
I forget that I’m supposed to be acting.
The tapping of the glasses happens again, and I’m not sure if I’m happy that I’m going to kiss him again or upset because I wanted to kiss him without the clanging.