Page 157 of The Book of Summer

Is Bess “taking it easy” at the wedding? Not especially. But, as they say, doctors make the worst patients.

She shouldn’t be dancing, at least not to every song. Granted, Bess isn’t exactly smoking up the floor with her deft moves, and she’s feeling better by the hour. Distance helps. Evan helps. Vicodin and one and a half glasses of Dom help, too.

The band is fantastic, playing a bit of this, a touch of that. They take requests though reserve the right to refuse Evan’s suggestion of “Gangsta’s Paradise.” Who wouldn’t want that at their wedding? It makes no sense.

“You could sing it yourself,” Bess says. “Just like at prom.”

“It’s crossed my mind. Why do you think I’ve been chatting them up? I’m trying to get on their good side.”

“Great. Warn me if you succeed,” she says. “I’ll get a front-row seat. Or leave.”

“There will be no warning.”

Over the course of the night, Bess detects some wonky-eyed glances in her direction, which she figures are due to how closely she’s dancing with Evan.

Wait, isn’t that the local boy she hooked up with in high school?

Or maybe:Doesn’t he have a girlfriend? The one with the kid?

Whatever they’re saying, Bess doesn’t care. She will leave and Cliff House will come down. It’s time to squeeze the last few morsels from this Sconset life while she can.

“I hate to bring this up,” Evan says.

It’s almost midnight. Closing time. He’s holding Bess tight, they’re dancing to a song that is not quite fast but not slow either. Sort of like “Gangsta’s Paradise,” but without the heaviness or implication of shooting.

“Have you noticed who didn’t show?” Evan asks.

Bess nods. Because the only thing as conspicuous as Cissy walking into a room is when she’s not there in the first place. Bess has spent the evening actively evading worry because she’s had enough of that.

“I’ve noticed,” Bess says. “But the party’s not over. She could still make it.”

“It’salmostover though,” Evan says, looking around. “And the fifty-plus set has all but dissolved.”

It’s true. Of the gray hairs, only her dad, Aunt Polly, and Uncle Vince linger. Bess hopes that Polly has consumed enough champagne to overlook the Cissy no-show. Whatever bizarre marital estrangements are happening between Polly’s brother and sister-in-law, Cissy should’ve shown up to her niece’s wedding.

“You’re right,” Bess says. “The elders are gone. This is going to be the toughest of Cissy’s shenanigans to explain.”

“Everyone’s having too much fun to notice,” Evan says.

“That’s the dream.” She smiles. “It’s been a great wedding.”

“The best I’ve been to.”

“Me, too,” Bess says. “And I’ve even had my own.”

With a laugh, Evan spins Bess once and then a second time. He dips her low, though it’s not at all a dipping sort of song. When he pulls her up, Bess is dizzy. She sees stars.

“You okay?” Evan asks, noticing the mixed-up eyes and clammy skin, both of which have little to do with the dipping.

“Yes. Yes. Fine,” she says. “I’m getting a little melancholy though, thinking about how it’s almost over. But I suppose everything ends eventually.”

“Not everything.”

“Um, hello? Have you seen the ninety-nine-year-old house across the street from your dad? If that can’t last, what will?”

“Plenty of things,” Evan says. “For example, I’ve felt the same about you for approximately forever.”

Bess’s skin erupts in goose bumps. Her breath gets short.

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