Page 131 of The Love Losers

Rosie grabs my chin in the crook of her hand, turning my head toward her, and kisses me—right there in front of Gene. In this bar that’s ours but not. The Peanut Bar full of bowls of pretzels.

Then she pulls back and says, “Just when I thought I could never love you more, you go and say a thing like that.”

EPILOGUE

ROSIE

It’s my wedding day, and I’m in a sitting room at Smith House in my dress with a towel wrapped around me, because I refuse to do anything that might mess up this absolute dream of a gown. But my brother Seamus brought a special bottle of whiskey from New York City—and if your brother brings you special whiskey for your wedding day, you don’t say no to a congratulatory shot with him.

Or at least that’s what our dad would have told us.

Of course, he probably should have been a lot better at saying no to our uncle, but I try not to get caught up in regret. Because if my father hadn’t made mistakes, then we wouldn’t have been given the opportunity to learn from them. Declan would never have moved to Marshall, he never would have met Claire, and I wouldn’t be about to marry the love of my life.

Maybe I sound naïve, saying a man I’ve only really known a month is the love of my life, but if you don’t pay attention to the good things in life when they appear, there’s a whole lot you may be missing.

I didn’t think I was going to marry Anthony. I honest-to-God didn’t set out to marry him, even if I’m kind of an idiot for not having immediately wanted to drag him to the altar. Becauseevery single thing about him captured my attention. From that very first moment when he looked at me and called me an angel, and I looked at him and saw someone who was feeling as broken as I had when I left New York.

He's one hell of a man, and he’s mine.

My husband. My sundae with the cherry.

We haven’t fixed each other—people can’t do that. A person can only fix him or herself, but that’s not to say other people can’t hold your pieces together until you find enough energy to grab some glue. Without our friends, we wouldn’t be here. We wouldn’t have each other.

I glance around, taking in some of the wonderful souls who have shown up for me today—Seamus and Declan, Joy, who keeps telling meI told youso, Lainey and Claire, and Emma. Normally, it’s just the bridal party who hangs out with the bride before the big moment, but I wasn’t about to push my brothers away.

Seamus and Claire’s father got in on Friday after what Seamus has described as the longest car-ride in the history of motor vehicles. Apparently, Claire’s dad required several hours to pack, which meant they weren’t able to leave until Friday morning, and they made no less than six stops—for reasons varying from Mr. Rainey wanting to buy the gimmicky crap at Cracker Barrel to him seeing a sign advertising a winery he’d heard of and insisting he “just had to” get a bottle for Claire.

Still, I know they’re secret buddies. When Joy played Cyndi Lauper yesterday, both of them sang along. And Seamus has admitted to me that one of the hundreds of topics they discussed on the drive down—since awkward silences give Mr. Rainey hives—is the possibility of moving here.

I instantly vowed that I would never let Seamus leave. He insisted he’d at least have to go back for his stuff, and I pointedout that earthly belongings were overrated, and wasn’t the true holiday message that people were what really mattered?

Speaking of people who rock…

Nicole and Damien are out prowling the floor and looking for trouble to root out, which is almost certainly unnecessary, but I think she’s still annoyed that we figured out who was behind the website before she did—and also that her game of human Clue has been subverted.

Mrs. Rosings is entertaining the guests. Her word. Emma thinks she’stormentingthem, which seems more accurate. I have no doubt she will have everyone seated in the great room at the precise time the ceremony is due to start. And, what do you know, my future mother-in-law has appointed herself the master of ceremonies. She’ll be the one asking us if we’d like to sayI do.

But Mrs. Rosings is more of a soft touch than she’d like anyone to know.

When we got back on Thursday night, we were surprised to discover the house was not actually full of orange and brown confetti and banners. It turns out she’s spent the past month and a half trying to undo all of the damage she purposefully did to the wedding plans to sabotage Nina. The colors are now champagne and a deep purple. The house has been beautifully and tastefully decorated, the DJ was replaced with a local band, and I’m assured the food will be perfectly edible. Claire made the cake! She kept it as a surprise, which is in itself surprising, because I didn’t think Claire could keep secrets.

Nicole and I no longer have to keep secrets, thank the lord, because Declan finally proposed to Claire this morning—in Mrs. Rosings’s lake house. Anthony helped him arrange everything, and now I’m almost positive they’re buddies and can put the whole snowplow incident behind them.

Speaking of which, Anthony confirmed to me via text that Pat the snowplow driver is not only coming but hasalreadyarrived in the building. I’ve tried to send Joy downstairs so she could get the hop on any other senior citizens who might try to bag Santa Claus, but she refuses to leave her duties as a bridesmaid to try and get lucky. I’m hoping she’ll give him a chance, though. If anyone deserves to be loved by everyone she meets, it’s Joy.

Anthony is with Jake, Gene, and Dom. Probably drinking flat beer if our friends from The Peanut Bar had anything to do with the provisions. I love the thought of the three of them giving him pep talks as he gets ready to make the biggest mistake of his life.

Just kidding. He’s assured me that marrying me is the best thing that could possibly happen to him—and I’m inclined to agree, because I feel the same way about him.

My mind is all over the place when Seamus taps my arm, lifting his eyebrows. “You’re missing my heartfelt speech.”

I pretend to gasp. “I’d never.”

“Fuck it,” he says, lifting his drink. “It was brilliant. It wouldn’t be half as good if I tried repeating it, so we’re going to fast-forward straight to the end.”

Emma laughs as she raises her drink, and I catch the appreciative look my brother gives her. She’s looking very fine in the sexy purple dresses she, Lainey, Claire, and Joy picked out for themselves.

I noticed Emma and Seamus talking last night, at the rehearsal dinner Mrs. Rosings held for the wedding party. Emma was drunk, which means she must have been knocking hard liquor back all day, because that woman can drink like a fish. It looked a bit intense. But when I asked Seamus about it later, he said they’d had a lively discussion of whiskey brands.

---