Page 42 of One and Only

Poppy snatched a piece of blueberry muffin off the plate in front of her. “You know what’s weird? Adaline has been in Florida with Emmett for a couple of weeks, and she missed, like, your entire relationship.”

I narrowed my eyes. Maybe I should have added Poppy to my list.

“Do you have a point?”

She grinned. “Nope. Just that she’s gonna die when she comes back, and I can’t wait to hold it over her head that I knew something first. That never happens.”

Mom sighed.

Poppy finished the muffin. “So why can’t you wait to get married until after the baby mama leaves? That’s what I don’t understand. Aren’t you kind of stealing her thunder by going down the aisle first?”

Was it over the top to keep kicking Poppy under the table? Maybe I’d always keep her within reach of my leg so I could nail the shit out of her calf every time she asked an annoyingly rational question.

“We’re not stealing her thunder,” I said, the very picture of patient big sister who was not at all feeling the urge to muzzle their little sister. “Josie is only coming to the ceremony for Olive, and then they’ll head back home. It’s not like Beckett and I are inviting all the same guests that Josie and Micah will have at their ceremony. It’s basically our family, and that’s it.”

“And she doesn’t find it weird that you’re just popping out of the woodwork?”

The fact that Poppy didn’t register the absolutely lethal glare I leveled in her direction was staggering. I kept my tone even, though. “Josie and Beckett never really talked about his personal life, so she wasn’t surprised that she didn’t know about me. They had healthy boundaries in their relationship, and he’s … private.”

“He’s so serious,” Poppy said. “I always pictured you with someone outgoing like you.”

“He’s a gentleman,” Mom interjected. “And some of the best relationships come from finding balance between the personalities.”

The truth of that snagged on something in the back of my brain, how I’d never felt that balance before, always seeking out men who’d match my energy.

Tim shuffled into the room, snagging a muffin as he passed. “Like me and your mom. I’m the sane one.”

My mom clucked her tongue as Poppy and I laughed.

All three of us watched Tim make his way outside.

“He’s having a really good week,” I commented.

Mom smiled, but I could see the tiredness around her eyes. “He is. I find myself bracing for a bad one after this. I felt like he was exhausted for a solid month over the winter. But he just … finds a way to keep surprising me.”

Our family was no stranger to Tim’s health problems. His first two bouts with cancer were met with stubborn treatment as soon as his tests came back abnormal. Each one rocked our family in a different way, and each sibling had a different emotional reaction to it.

My stepbrothers lost their mom to cancer when they were young, and the thought of losing their dad too sent shock waves through the foundations of the entire household.

Me and Adaline, along with our oldest brother Erik—who didn’t live far from Adaline in Seattle—loved Tim like he was our real dad, but we hadn’t already lost one parent to the disease, so it settled differently inside us. Our pain was wrapped up in something else. Just as significant, just as hard to process.

I patted my mom’s hand. “I’m sure he’ll have a good week for the wedding too,” I told her.

Her eyes misted over, and I wished I could will them back for her. That was part of this whole deal. Everything, every conversation, every moment, felt like the last.

Round three of cancer was advanced enough, in enough places in his body, that Tim had made a quick decision to enjoy what was left of his life without harsh treatments sucking out all of his energy.

On the good weeks, like we’d just had, it was easy to forget just how sick he was. That eventually, the bad days would outnumber the good, the tired days would eat away at the rest of them, and the cancer would spread.

Eventually, he wouldn’t have any more good days.

Poppy cleared her throat, ready to change the subject at the sudden veer into the heavy emotions. “Who will be able to make it to the ceremony?”

I pulled a notebook in front of me and started counting names.

“Erik and Lydia will be here,” I said, referencing my oldest brother and his wife. Then I went down the list by age. “Ian can’t swing it with his work schedule, and last-minute flights from London are astronomical. Cameron is a yes. Adaline and Emmett will be here. Parker is coming, thank God.” Then I added under my breath, “Because I’d kick his ass if he didn’t.”

“He’s doing his best, Greer,” Mom admonished.

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