Page 13 of This

Waiting where she left him, Liam holds a sign:GO BACK!He tries to get the people around us to join him in chanting the same.

God, I missed them.

We drive to the wedding venue Keaton insists on me approving before they book. The garden, ornate archways, balcony surrounding the ballroom all fit her dream wedding perfectly. I give my blessing, and Liam winks at me. He texted me over a week ago when he found out they'd had a cancellation for next June. Knowing how much she wanted it, he already put the deposit down. Which means it’s official. My best friend is getting married.

The engagement party is at the Reynolds’ house. We arrive just in time for Liam to help Patrick move flowerpots from one side of the backyard to the other. It improves the aesthetic or something.

Parents mourn their children when they leave home, keeping their rooms untouched as a memorial of sorts. Either that or they turn the space into a home gym they never use. My substitute parents are remember-when types, everything exactly where I left it when I moved out four years ago.

I drop my bag and fall back on the bed.

No one ever technically told me my mother wasn’t coming back. I came to the conclusion on my own when we redecorated the guest room and everyone started calling it Bennett’s room. A few boxes showed up a week later with stuff from my old bedroom to confirm. They went in the trash, unopened, before either Joyce or Patrick came home. Everything in them was tainted byher, and it was easier to go on like she never existed.

Like mother, like daughter.

I shower off the smell of passenger 7C and change. By the time I emerge, the backyard has transformed into something off Keaton’s Pinterest board. Mason jar candles everywhere; strings of soft, glowing bulbs around the fence line; tables with white cloths; and gorgeous flowers in wine-bottle vases as centerpieces. We play music through the speakers Liam hooked up while we fill water glasses and finish arranging the place settings.

The second Keaton disappears into the house, I swap Dane’s name card over to my table. I set him straight across from me. No offense to Aunt Peg, but he’s nicer to look at.

Since the bookstore, his texts have returned to random updates until a few days ago. He sent a stern reminder of his footwear request, telling me not to bother showing up without the heels. They are under my bed in Portland.

Guests start arriving as the caterers and bartender set up. Introductions are made, families mingle, and I answer the same questions for different groups of Keaton’s relatives.

The Reynolds clan is massive—six siblings on Patrick’s side and five on Joyce’s. All but them continued on until they hit a minimum of four offspring. After every single family gathering, Keaton thanks them for stopping with her.

I say, “I’m great. How are you?” thirteen times before escaping to the kitchen where I want to stay for the remainder of the night.

Liam meets me by the fridge and massages my cheeks. “Remember, it’s a marathon. Smile breaks are important.”

I stretch out my jaw. “I met your parents. They love Keaton.”

“Duh. It’s Keaton. The first time she went to their house, she took Mom some specialty tea and Dad an assortment of meat sticks.”

“We scoured the city for those damn tea bags.”

He smiles the smile of a man ridiculously in love, and I remember why I like him so much.

“All right,” he says. “I’m going in. Wish me luck.”

“Luck,” I call after him.

Two steps onto the deck, and someone shouts his name. He looks back, pretending to cry. I laugh as he trots down the steps, arms spread wide to embrace them.

“Bennett?”

I cringe, recognizing the voice, but slap on a smile mid-spin. “Ford?”

“I knew it was you the second I stepped in the front door.” Keaton’s cousin wraps me in a hug. “I’d recognize that laugh anywhere.”

“Well, I tried changing it, but it ended up being this whole thing.”

He shakes his head, pulling back. “They drag you here, kicking and screaming?”

“No. But they bribed me with a plane ticket and open bar.”

“You’re not the one making the drinks, are you? I swear, sometimes, I still wake up in the middle of the night and taste that shit you used to mix.” His smile softens, his eyes melt, and the puppy-dog look returns full force.

Ford’s crush has been going strong since the first summer Keaton and I were inseparable. He always found a reason to come to the house—mowing the yard, cleaning the pool. But it was over for him the second I met his older brother, Bentley. The first guy with a six-pack to pay attention to me. Add in the way he acted like a complete dick to everyone but me and his golden tongue, and the gangly, younger Reynolds never stood a chance.

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