“Hey.” I looked over to see Rodney standing in the doorway of the kitchen. “Everything okay?”
“Mike’s not staying here,” Linnie said to him quietly, and behind his glasses, Rodney’s eyebrows flew up.
“Oh,” he said. “Um . . .”
“Did your aunt get settled in okay?” my mother asked, with what seemed like a lot of effort to change her focus.
“She’s great,” Rodney said. “Just resting after her trip.”
“Your aunt?” I asked.
“My aunt Liz,” Rodney explained. “She’s staying in the blue guest room. I picked her up at the train station.”
“Did Michael explain why he didn’t come home, Charlie?” my dad asked, his voice low.
“Um, not really.” I glanced at J.J. and saw he looked the way I felt. We all hated it when our dad got serious and quiet like this—somehow, it was much worse than if he’d just yelled.
“Well, we’ll see about that,” my dad said, taking a step toward me and holding out his hand. “Give me your keys.”
“What?” I asked, even as I took them out of my bag. “Why?”
“Because my car is blocked in and I need to leave.”
“Where are you going?” Linnie asked, exchanging a glance with J.J.
“I’m going to get Michael,” my dad said, his voice clipped. He held out his hand again, and I hesitated, looking at my mom, who shook her head at me.
“I’m not sure that’s going to work, Dad,” J.J. said.
“He can’t—he can’t just drop in for the wedding like he’s an out-of-town guest,” my dad said, his voice rising. “He’s not an acquaintance or a third cousin. He can be a part of this family or not, but he can’t—”
“Jeff,” my mom said, taking a step closer to him. “He came back. I mean . . .” Her voice shook slightly. “He’s here. Maybe we should let that be enough.” My dad hesitated, his hand still outstretched toward me. “Please,” my mom said, more quietly, and after a moment, my dad lowered his hand.
“Nobody actually thought he was going to come to the wedding,” I pointed out.
“I did,” Linnie said quietly, but I kept talking over her.
“So is it really that big a deal he’s not staying at the house? We shouldn’t let this affect the weekend. It’s still going to be great. We have the event at the Pearce today, and Danny’s coming soon. . . .” Nobody looked particularly convinced, and I tried to think fast. I was not about to let Mike ruin this weekend—especially if he wasn’t even here to do it. “I mean, it’s not like we even have room for him here.”
“What about my room?” J.J. asked.
“Your room is also Danny’s room. And I think Danny might want to stay there.”
“I just meant he could put a sleeping bag on the floor or something. Who’s in Mike’s room?”
“Bridesmaids,” Linnie and I said together. It was admittedly going to be a tight fit with three of them, but Linnie had decided that it was much better than having them wandering around the Inn. When all Linnie’s friends were together, noise complaints and property destruction inevitably followed.
“Well, I just hope your brother knows,” my dad said, shaking his head, “that we expect him to be a part of this family. And he can’t just—”
The kitchen door swung open again, causing the alarm system to issue a single, brief beep, and Will stuck his head in the room. “Jeffrey,” he started. He must have taken in everyone else’s expressions because then he said, “Uh—is everything okay?”
“It’s fine,” my dad said briskly. “Did you need something?”
“Just wanted you to okay the final placement,” Will said, gesturing to the backyard. “Linnie said you were particular about a few plantings. . . .”
“She’s right about that,” my dad said. “I’ll be right out.” Will nodded and went back to the yard, closing the door behind him. My dad sighed and looked at my sister. “You realize this is my last chance to win the garden competition at this house?”
“You realize this is my only time getting married?”
“Well,” J.J. said, clearing his throat. “I mean, statistically, that’s probably not true.”
“I don’t think it’s a great idea to talk about marriage statistics the day before a wedding,” my mother said, shooting J.J. a look.
“I don’t think it’s a great idea to ever talk about statistics,” I added. For years, J.J. labored under the belief that the rest of us were just as interested in hearing about statistics as he was in telling us about them. His favorite joke when he was younger, until we declared a moratorium on it, was “Did you know ninety-eight percent of all statistics are made up on the spot?”
“The data doesn’t change depending on what day it is or is not,” J.J. said, sounding offended by the very notion of this. “And the fact is, half of marriages end in divorce.”
“Well, what about Mom and Dad?” I asked, gesturing to them.
“I think Mom and Dad are outliers,” J.J. said with a shrug.
My dad headed for the door. “I should go say good-bye to my flowers.”
“I’ll come too,” my mom said. My dad held the door open for her, and as they stepped outside, before the door closed behind them, I heard my dad ask, “Are you okay?”
I could hear my siblings talking—J.J. was apparently exchanging texts with some girl he’d met online, who wanted to come to the wedding but might also be a felon—but it was like it was all happening underwater, or in another room. My thoughts had gone right back to Jesse, and what he was going to do, and what I should be doing. What if he was waiting to hear from me right now and thought it was strange I hadn’t reached out yet? Should I text him? But then, what if Mike saw the text and started asking questions? Maybe I should just text him something benign, like hey.
“Charlie!” I looked over and saw that everyone in the kitchen was staring at me.
“Um.” I blinked, trying to focus, trying to pull my thoughts away from Jesse Foster. “What was that?”
“I asked if you’d heard from Bill,” Linnie said. “Is everything okay at the Inn?”
“Is Billiam not pulling his weight?” J.J. asked, tsking. “It wouldn’t surprise me. I thought he looked shifty.”
“His name’s not Billiam,” Rodney pointed out. J.J. waved this small detail away.
“Right,” I said, looking down at my phone. “Um . . .” The truth was, I hadn’t thought about Bill or the decorations at all. “I think he’s got it under control.” I hoped I sounded more confident than I felt. “I haven’t heard otherwise.”
“Okay,” J.J. said, holding up his phone. “I got more details. She was arrested but never actually served time. It was just a Mardi Gras–related offense that I’m very interested to know more about.”
“No felons,” Rodney said.
“I’ll check in with Bill now, and—” My phone buzzed with a text.
Danny
Hey. I’m here.
I felt my heart leap in my chest as I looked down at my message. My big brother—my favorite person—was back.
“Danny’s here,” I said, feeling a smile start to take over my face as I ran toward the kitchen door. I didn’t wait for a response, just pushed my way through it, and ran across the deck, past the garage, and toward the driveway.
There was a luxury SUV parked behind my car, and Danny was climbing out of the driver’s seat. He grinned when he saw me. “Hiya, Chuck.”
“Hey!” I ran toward him, and he pulled me into a bear hug that lifted my feet off the ground. I hadn’t seen my brother in two months, but he looked the same—same dark hair sweeping over his forehead, same tan, like he lived in Southern California, and not Northern, same crinkles in the corners of his blue eyes. He set me back on my feet and smiled down at me from his height of six three.