And rather than relying on his family after becoming a single father, my dad retreated from his. Maybe we do share some DNA after all.

I’m surprised to realize that rift seems to have been restored when I enter the old white church where my father is getting married today.

There are still a couple hours left before the start of the ceremony, but Hallie was resistant to my suggestion we show up a half hour early like normal wedding guests. Since she’s my mode of transportation here, I didn’t really have a choice.

Now that we’re inside the church’s lobby, which is bustling with extended family I haven’t seen in years, I get that it might have been a bit awkward for us to show up an hour and a half from now. But not as uncomfortable as having to interact with virtual strangers who share my last name.

“Hallie!” A stout, plump woman sweeps my sister up in a hug, crushing the bag containing Hallie’s bridesmaid dress between them. I watch Hallie surreptitiously shake it as soon as she’s released. “Where’s Matthew? Both of them!”

“They’re at the park with Matt’s family. They’ll all be here soon. Saylor and I wanted to arrive early so we could help out.” Big of her to include me in that offer. And Hallie’s also drawn our grandmother’s attention to me.

“Saylor!” She moves forward slightly, then shifts back, and the uncertain motion is worse than a bone-jarring hug. My own grandmother is apprehensive about showing me affection. Maybe I really am a cold-hearted bitch.

“Hi, Grandma. I like your dress,” I lie. It’s a horrid shade of periwinkle, accented with what I think is meant to be a fascinator but looks more like a bird nested in her hair that left a few feathers behind. Even so, I doubt critiquing her outfit is going to dissipate any of the tension hovering in the air.

“Why, thank you, dear. I got it on sale!” Her thick southern accent emphasizes each syllable.

“Really?” There’s a hint of sarcasm in the word that my grandmother doesn’t catch. Hallie does.

“I hear you’re quite the soccer star, Saylor,” my grandmother says. “If I had your looks, I would just sit around and wait for some handsome fella to sweep me off my feet.”

“How progressive of you,” I reply sweetly.

“We should really go check on… things.” Hallie smiles. “We’ll see you later, Grandma.” She grips my bicep and pulls me away. “Really, Saylor?”

“I’m not going to apologize for being a feminist.” I sniff.

“Grandma went to debutante balls, and maybe our father’s wedding isn’t the best time to lecture on feminism—even if it’s the only time you’re home to talk about anything.”