The chaotic conversation around us allows me to try and forget my stupidity. Laughter and chatter fill the yard as everyone shares their favorite memories of my parents. We hear about their young love. The time my father messed up and tried to win my mother back after standing her up on a date. The trip they took to Europe, backpacking through the mountains for their honeymoon. The food is delicious, the wine is crisp, and I feel so completely happy and enamored sitting around the people I care about. And that includes Emma.

After dinner, champagne gets passed around in anticipation of the toast my parents are going to give. They walk onto the stage as the band ceases playing. A hush goes over the crowd.

“We appreciate all of you being here with us tonight. It’s been an incredible 40 years.” My mother beams at my father as he speaks. “To my wife, Anne. Not a day goes by where I'm not thankful that I get to do life by your side. We’ve dealt with challenges and hardships like every other couple, and we’ve persisted. I cannot thank you enough for staying by my side all these years. Not only were you a wife, but also a mother, a representative, a revolutionary, and an all-around incredible woman. I am so lucky to be loved by you.”

Emma sniffs, and I wrap my arm around her shoulder. Guess she’s a declarations kind of gal.

Noted.

“George,” my mother starts. “You make life fun. You also make it annoying as hell sometimes, but every night I go to sleep thankful to have you by my side. I loved you then, I love you now, I love you always.” The crowd around us breaks into applause as my parents share a brief kiss. “Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedules to be here and celebrate with us. We’d like to invite all the couples, no matter how long you’ve been dating or married, to seal your relationship with a kiss!”

My hand nearly drops the glass I’m holding.

“Henry? Lizzie? Drew? Can you all join us up here with your partners please?”

“I-I didn’t know this was happening,” I whisper. “I swear. We do not need to go up there.”

“It’s one kiss, Henry,” Emma says, standing from her chair. I follow her lead, rising to my feet. “It’ll be fine. I trust you,” she adds, walking toward the stage.

I chug the rest of my drink, bubbles popping on my tongue. I need more than liquid luck right now to calm me the hell down.

Emma stops at the bottom of the stairs and I hurry around her, offering my hand. I know she’s not used to being in the spotlight; she loathes it. And I’m thrusting her to center stage, all for my own personal gain and glory. I’m a horrible human.