Athena always tells me to stop, that I’ll give myself wrinkles. I don’t care.
“Except for the food,” I say to the guy, “this is nearly perfect.” Right head count, right amount of extra food, right number of vegetarian dishes. All of it. “It’s like there’s another wedding going on at the same time.”
I freeze at the thought. My gaze meets the caterer’s. His mouth forms a tiny, perfect o.
“Is there another wedding going on today? Maybe here at the resort?” The place is huge. We’ve only rented a single lodge for the ceremony and reception, with the wedding party booked in rooms upstairs. It’s the perfect setup for a New Year’s Eve wedding, minus the mixed up menu, of course.
The man gropes his pockets and pulls out a cell phone. “Let me check.” He mutters as he dials. A prayer, I think. I have the urge to join him.
A smile blooms across his face before he even hangs up. He clutches the phone and gives it a little shake.
“Yes, yes. On the other side of the resort. Thank you,” he says. “And my apologies to you and your sister.”
I shake my head. “It could happen to anyone.”
He rushes off to shoo the wrong food out the door and fetch Athena’s meticulously-designed wedding feast. I sag against a stainless steel counter, wondering if a jog around the lake will be too much for my heart today.
“You’re a good sister.”
The voice sends a surge through me; it’s a low rumble that resonates at the base of my spine. I gulp a breath before turning around to confront George.
“Only returning the favor,” I tell him without gazing directly at him. Shame heats my cheeks at the memory of yesterday’s antics. I can barely swallow in his presence, never mind make actual conversation. For the past eighteen hours I’ve been avoiding him, as much as the maid of honor can avoid the best man.
“You guys take care of each other,” he says, a statement, not a question. “David,” he adds. “He talks nonstop about the both of you.”
I bring my fingers to my chest. It’s easier than speaking.
“He’s totally psyched about getting a little sister along with the wife.”
I’m still speechless. Sure, I adore David. If anyone could put up with, handle, and still love Athena, he can. He’s the miracle that blew into her life and decided to stay. I do not turn my back on miracles.
But I don’t include them happening to me, either. Athena’s lost a father, a step-father, then a mom. She needs the rock that is David.
“We’re … she’s—” I begin, my words fumbling in my mouth, tripping over my tongue.
“David’s told me.” George holds up a hand, an apology.
“You deal,” I say. It’s what I always say.
He nods. “Don’t we all?”
Then a silence descends, the sort that comes from half-spoken confessions, where the path is obscured. Should you say more? Or have you already said too much?
“Going for a run?” he says after a moment.
“Well, yeah.” I’m still bundled up, hat, scarf, mittens clutched in one hand, trail shoes on my feet. “After the caterers come back with the real food.” I can’t end the vigil until then.
“Mind the company?”
Only now do I realize that he, too, is dressed for running. My throat tightens. I shake my head, wordless once again. I ease onto the stainless steel counter and he slides in next to me. He is setting me on fire. I could blame the mittens, and scarf, and hat. It’s him. I know it. I will burn and disintegrate before the wedding even begins.
By the time I’ve soaked through my T-shirt, the food arrives. The head caterer throws me a grin filled with relief. George pushes off the counter and meets him halfway across the kitchen. That big handshake again and something else, something green and folded slips from one hand to the other.
Oh, I think. He does know how to deal and make them as well. That was no measly twenty-dollar bill George slipped the caterer. I pretend not to see the whole exchange—for
“Except for the food,” I say to the guy, “this is nearly perfect.” Right head count, right amount of extra food, right number of vegetarian dishes. All of it. “It’s like there’s another wedding going on at the same time.”
I freeze at the thought. My gaze meets the caterer’s. His mouth forms a tiny, perfect o.
“Is there another wedding going on today? Maybe here at the resort?” The place is huge. We’ve only rented a single lodge for the ceremony and reception, with the wedding party booked in rooms upstairs. It’s the perfect setup for a New Year’s Eve wedding, minus the mixed up menu, of course.
The man gropes his pockets and pulls out a cell phone. “Let me check.” He mutters as he dials. A prayer, I think. I have the urge to join him.
A smile blooms across his face before he even hangs up. He clutches the phone and gives it a little shake.
“Yes, yes. On the other side of the resort. Thank you,” he says. “And my apologies to you and your sister.”
I shake my head. “It could happen to anyone.”
He rushes off to shoo the wrong food out the door and fetch Athena’s meticulously-designed wedding feast. I sag against a stainless steel counter, wondering if a jog around the lake will be too much for my heart today.
“You’re a good sister.”
The voice sends a surge through me; it’s a low rumble that resonates at the base of my spine. I gulp a breath before turning around to confront George.
“Only returning the favor,” I tell him without gazing directly at him. Shame heats my cheeks at the memory of yesterday’s antics. I can barely swallow in his presence, never mind make actual conversation. For the past eighteen hours I’ve been avoiding him, as much as the maid of honor can avoid the best man.
“You guys take care of each other,” he says, a statement, not a question. “David,” he adds. “He talks nonstop about the both of you.”
I bring my fingers to my chest. It’s easier than speaking.
“He’s totally psyched about getting a little sister along with the wife.”
I’m still speechless. Sure, I adore David. If anyone could put up with, handle, and still love Athena, he can. He’s the miracle that blew into her life and decided to stay. I do not turn my back on miracles.
But I don’t include them happening to me, either. Athena’s lost a father, a step-father, then a mom. She needs the rock that is David.
“We’re … she’s—” I begin, my words fumbling in my mouth, tripping over my tongue.
“David’s told me.” George holds up a hand, an apology.
“You deal,” I say. It’s what I always say.
He nods. “Don’t we all?”
Then a silence descends, the sort that comes from half-spoken confessions, where the path is obscured. Should you say more? Or have you already said too much?
“Going for a run?” he says after a moment.
“Well, yeah.” I’m still bundled up, hat, scarf, mittens clutched in one hand, trail shoes on my feet. “After the caterers come back with the real food.” I can’t end the vigil until then.
“Mind the company?”
Only now do I realize that he, too, is dressed for running. My throat tightens. I shake my head, wordless once again. I ease onto the stainless steel counter and he slides in next to me. He is setting me on fire. I could blame the mittens, and scarf, and hat. It’s him. I know it. I will burn and disintegrate before the wedding even begins.
By the time I’ve soaked through my T-shirt, the food arrives. The head caterer throws me a grin filled with relief. George pushes off the counter and meets him halfway across the kitchen. That big handshake again and something else, something green and folded slips from one hand to the other.
Oh, I think. He does know how to deal and make them as well. That was no measly twenty-dollar bill George slipped the caterer. I pretend not to see the whole exchange—for
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