Page 52 of This

“Keaton?” I ask.

She gives me a look, saying,Who the hell else?

“You don’t have to give her anything.”

“Have to and want to ain’t got nothin’ to do with one another.” She starts digging. “I have no use for most of this stuff anymore, but nostalgia tricks the mind into keeping things long after they’ve served their purpose.” A pleased expression appears on her face when she finds whatever she’s searching for. “Here it is. George gave me this the morning of our wedding.”

She hands me a yellowed piece of paper, black ink faded but legible. I suspiciously eye her after reading the bold print at the top—Why you’ll be a terrible wife.

“No offense, Mags, but I think this could very well push Keaton over the edge.”

“Ohhh,” she says, tapping me on the hand. “Read before you sass.”

I reluctantly settle back on the cushions. “Number one: you are your own person.” I immediately question the type of marriage Maggie endured but continue, “If you want to be fully devoted, get those silly ambitions and dreams out of your head. Focus on your future husband and not on the desire to become a better person. Self-actualization never put dinner on the table.”

Maggie nods along as if reciting it in her head.

“Two: you question your future husband. The vows include the wordobeyfor a reason.” Annoyance cakes my tone the further I go. “Whether the command comes out ill-tempered or demeaning, never you mind, just fulfill the promise made. Number three: you refuse to settle for what he gives you, pestering him to better himself—” The awfulness continues, but I stop. “I can’t read any more.”

“Then skip to the bottom.” She taps a finger on the page, the smile lines on each side of her mouth deepening.

With a sigh, I scan down. Then I smile, seeing the final handwritten line. “And this, my love, is a list of ways you’ll make a terrible wife, but all the reasons you’ll be an incredible partner to share my life. My equal, my best friend, my everything—I love you and choose you. George.”

“The man’s sense of humor drove me mad,” Maggie says, eyes on the fire but far away. “But he loved me selflessly despite my stubbornness and independence and a barrel’s worth of flaws. And he gave me a reminder, so neither of us lost sight of who he’d chosen. If Keaton finds the slightest bit of herself in here, and any part of Liam at the end, they have the love that sticks.”

“Sticky love sounds dangerous,” I say, folding the paper along the delicate creases.

She pats me on the leg and grunts, pushing to her feet. “Only if you’re determined to get out of it alive, my dear.”

Keaton laughs, reading the letter.As she wipes under her eyes, careful not to smear her mascara, she says, “Donotshow Liam this. He’d tag the apartment walls with a list of ways I’m terrible.”

I tuck the paper back in my bag when she hands it over. We snuck off from the bridal shower for a moment of peace and are lounging on the swings in the backyard of her parents’ house. Joyce’s side of the family is a notch down on the decibel chart from the Reynolds side, which we’ll deal with tomorrow, but still rowdy for a bunch of women on a Saturday afternoon.

“You want to do Greek tonight?” Keaton twists her swing toward mine. “Or maybe we could go to that Thai place down the street?”

I nod. “Yes to both. My restaurant choices have been limited to pizza, pasta, and fried chicken for far too long.”

We both pretend not to watch Aunt Donna dip behind the gardening shed to smoke.

“Then we can watch a movie that involves no explosions,” she says.

I’m staying with her for the weekend. Dane and Liam went out of town for, what his cousin called, a work conference. Dane claimed the real reason is a golf tournament his grandpa wanted to hit in Miami and offered to pay for them to go on the company credit card.

I consider it a chance to spend time with my best friend sans boy drama.

After the party wraps up, we do eat at both places, bringing leftovers back to munch on during our movie marathon. Halfway through a rom-com, I think of Denton and Daphne for the first time in months. I can’t even remember packingDarkest Desireswhen I left San Francisco.

She drives me to the airport after the bridal shower on Sunday.

“I’ll only see you two more times before you’re here for the wedding,” she says, hugging me before I go through security. A crazy thought that sticks with me the entire flight.

And then, a few weeks later, her arms wrap around me again, but now I’m lugging my bag off the plane for the bachelorette party.

As she lets go, she gives me a longer look than usual. “You look different.”

“Really?” I ask, searching for a window reflection.

She glances back for Liam to weigh in, and he smirks at the opportunity.

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