“I thought your grandfather survived his surgery?”

“He did. He’s kicking it down in Florida.”

Wyatt and I both snicker.

“Neil! Lindsay!” Mom calls. “Come on!”

I shoot Wyatt a sympathetic glance. “We’ll be back.”

“I’ll be here,” he says flatly.

Lindsay and I walk down to the proper dining area, where most of my family is sitting. Michael stands up quickly, wrapping me in a head hold and giving me a noogie.

“You didn’t tell me you’d gotten in, little bro!”

“Ow, okay. Let me go, please!”

I can’t think of why I would’ve told him I’d gotten here. We’ve never been close; Michael “chose” our father in the divorce. Of course, he was nineteen when it happened, so it’s not like it mattered; he could’ve gone anywhere he wanted. The fact that he still bothers to talk to that man, though, that Michael still wants him in his life, is enough for me to know that I don’t need to talk to Michael.

It was a total surprise when he asked me to be one of his groomsmen. I even called Mom after I got the text asking if I absolutely had to be one, and she insisted. She said something about this wedding bringing us all closer or some bullshit.

“Have you gotten taller?” Michael asks me, doing his best to flatten out my hair.

“Probably.”

“Right, right, those shots.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh!” Michael exclaims like he forgot something. “You haven’t met Ashley before!”

“No, I haven’t.”

Ashley is in the middle of talking to the guy I guessed was her dad. Michael taps her on the shoulder, and she turns, and we introduce ourselves. I’ve seen Ashley in pictures on Michael’s Instagram and she looks the same even without any filters. She’s pretty, nice black hair, cute smile. I just don’t know anything else about the woman except that she’s one of those people who still have a Hogwarts house in their Instagram bio.

That’s when I knew we wouldn’t get along.

“It’s so good to meet you, Neil. Michael’s told me so much about you.”

“Yeah, great to meet you too.”

“Is that Neil?” I hear my grandfather shout my name. Then he lets out this low, whooping laugh, which turns into a cough after a bit.

My grandmother is sitting right beside him, sitting at this perfect ninety-degree angle in her chair, her lipstick perfectly applied, not a hair out of place. Just like Mom. “Oh, Neil. I didn’t realize you were here.”

Except she doesn’t say Neil; she uses a name that hasn’t been mine for a very long time. Grandmother offers me a hand to shake.

“My name is Neil, Nana.”

“Oh, right. I just expected for you to finally be out of this phase.”

Shame fills my body, creeping up my neck.