Page 64 of Britta & the Beach Boy
“Okay, go ahe—”
“—I’m getting married.” I don’t let him finish his sentence. If I do, I’ll lose my courage.
The shock on Dad’s face I expected, but then Adam’s face pops into the screen next to Dad’s. “You’re what?”
“Did you say you’re getting married?” Dad asks, and the background noise gets louder and clearer.
“Who’s getting married?” Zach yells.
I suddenly realize I’ve made a crucial mistake by forgetting it’s Evie’s birthday. I close my eyes and mutter, “No, no, no.”
“You’renotgetting married?” Dad asks. “Thank goodness. I thought that’s what I heard you say.”
I take a deep breath and open my eyes. “I am getting married, Dad.”
My entire family is at Dad’s celebrating. Not just my brothers and their partners. Stella’s mom and brother, too. Along with his wife and stepdaughter. Literally, everyone is there. Which means my private conversation with Dad is now going to be a family meeting.
“You’re getting married? To who?” Bear’s face fills the screen. He’s my baby brother, but he’s always been the most protective of me.
He’s also the biggest of my brothers, and suddenly I’m a little worried about Dex’s safety. I’ve got a lot of explaining to do—without too much truth-telling—but at least I’ll only have to do it one time. So maybe this rip-the-Band-Aid-off moment is a good thing. If I can get them to stop asking me questions all at the same time.
I put my fingers between my lips and whistle. “Listen up!”
The room goes silent and more faces squeeze into the screen. But I have everyone’s attention, so I let out as much information as I can in one long breath.
“LiamandIaregettingmarriedtomorrow,andIneedyoutotrustmethatthisiswhatIwantandnotaskalotofquestions.”
A beat passes before Bear growls, “Who is Liam?”
“Dex. I mean Dex.” I have to get used to calling him that again—I guess—since it’s his one and only condition.
“I called it!” Georgia yells, followed by Zach’s confused voice. “The surfer?”
And I’m swept away in a sea of voices and questions. I toss out answers to as many as I can and ignore the ones I can’t answer. Like the one from Dad about whether I’m in love with Dex.
But when everyone goes silent, and Dad asks in a sad voice, “Did you say tomorrow?” I can’t ignore him.
“Yeah. We don’t want it to be a big deal—what with the media and everything. It’s just going to be us and a couple of friends on the beach.”
Dad’s expression grows sadder in equal proportion to the increasing perkiness in my voice until the hurt on his face is unbearable.
“Who’s walking you down the aisle?” He asks, and I am unprepared for the longing that fills my chest.
Thirteen was my wedding-obsession era. I imagined a big wedding with Mom and Dad both giving me away. I had a Pinterest board of ideas and everything. Mom and I worked on it together.
Then she got sick… and, well, you know.
“There won’t be an aisle on the beach,” I say weakly, without looking at his face. I officially hate video calls almost as much as I hate the deep well of sadness in Dad’s blue eyes.
“If you could put it off a day,” he says, slowly. “We could drive to California and be there for it.”
“Or go to Vegas, and we’ll meet you there!” My cousin Seb calls from somewhere off-screen.
I start to shake my head, then catch Dad’s eye.
“Vegas is closer for us,” he says carefully. “We could leave early tomorrow morning and be there late afternoon. You wouldn’t have to postpone, and we’d be part of your big day.”
If I’d only heard the pleading in Dad’s voice over the phone and not seen it written wide on my cell screen, I could have said no.
