Lily’s eyes widened. “I don’t want to upset you.”

“Well, you’re upsetting me!”

“Okay, Jo.”

“Thank you,” she said, just as the bandleader announced, “Now the bride and groom would like to say a few words.”

It took a long moment for Joey to realize she was that bride. Grant was that groom. Shit. They’d divvied up speech responsibilities weeks ago. Rehearsal dinner to Joey: quick and dirty. Wedding generously assumed by Grant: long and duly praising of everyone who needed to be praised. This was her getting off easily. If only she’d composed something like she’d fully intended.

“Ready, bride?” said a reappearing Grant, a tumbler of scotch in one hand and a pink drink in the other. “Watermelon martini.” He handed it to her and kissed her hard. She tasted scotch and happiness. The crowd began to cheer.

*  *  *

“…and obviously we want to thank Dot and Lawrence for being super hosts. What a spectacular evening! From the canapés to the calligraphy, no detail has gone unnoticed, and that’s courtesy of my impeccable future mother-in-law. And to my groom—” There was a smattering of applause. “To my groom.” Joey wove their fingers together. “I just want to say how lucky…you are to get to marry me!” Now the applause got louder. “I’m kidding. I’m the lucky one. I really am.”

“Your parents,” whispered Grant, his smile not faltering.

“Fuck,” she whispered back. “Now there are two other people we’d like to thank. They’ve welcomed Grant into our family. Most of all they keep things very…interesting. I’m talking about my parents.” Joey saw Scott by the ice sculpture and Bea not far behind, at a table by herself, holding up her margarita for the toast.

“I’m talking about my dad and…my mom, who in particular has spent so much time and effort planning us a beautiful wedding. I can’t believe it’s tomorrow.”

Joey’s throat choked with unexpected emotion. “Thanks, Mom.”

Chapter Forty-Five

Joey

Florida
2019

Tables were being dismantled. Lily had changed into a bikini and was floating on twin swans in the pool with Sister #3. Grant’s groomsmen stood in a circle, doing some fraternity ritual that involved shots and a handshake.

“Hey, stranger,” said Leo. He wore a light-gray sweater rolled up to his elbows with darker gray skinny jeans.

“Hey,” she said. Then, “You know how kids are really happy when they run outside, and we think, like, that’s just because they’re kids?”

Leo cocked his head. “Yeah?”

“Well, I think everyone can be that happy if they run around barefoot outside. The happy isn’t because of being a kid, it’s because of being barefoot.”

“They got the wrong hypothesis, eh?” Leo slipped off his high-tops and peeled off his socks. “You could be onto something.”

“Noooo! Leo Winn, after all these years—barefoot. Can someone call the photographer?”