can’t say anything else right now so please don’t ask.
I’m sorry.
I wish things were different, and that she could have been part of today. Ashton and Eli’s wedding ceremony turned out to be the perfect antidote to yesterday’s trauma. Watching them exchange their vows reminded everybody that love and hope and beauty still exist, even when things seem impossibly dark. My mood has been lifting steadily all day, and now that Ashton and Eli are moving across the dance floor—unsteadily, because Eli cannot dance, but beaming at one another—I almost feel normal.
Addy, who was in tears for most of last night, stands smiling at the edge of the dance floor in a beautiful, ice-blue maid of honor’s dress. She’s holding a bouquet of white roses in one hand, and the arm of cute groomsman-slash-molecular-biologist Daniel with the other. He bends toward her ear and says something that makes her laugh so hard that she almost drops her flowers.
“Ashton looks gorgeous,” Bronwyn says. She’s standing beside me at our reception table, her hand firmly in Nate’s. I don’t think she’s let go of him since he was discharged from the hospital this morning. Nate’s the least formally dressed of us all, since he couldn’t manage to get anything except a T-shirt over his sling. Surgeons removed five chunks of metal from his left arm last night, and he’s bandaged up to his shoulder. He’ll have scars for life, probably, but he’s incredibly lucky that he doesn’t have nerve damage.
And that he works for Mr. Myers. Knox’s dad came to the hospital last night to let Mrs. Macauley know that the company’s disability policy will cover Nate’s salary while he recuperates.
“For how long?” Mrs. Macauley asked nervously.
“As long as it takes,” he replied.
Now, Nate grins at Bronwyn and me. “Eli looks like he’s about to keel over.”
“I’m pretty sure this is his first time on a dance floor,” I say.
Nate nods. “I believe it.”
Bronwyn gazes around the crowded ballroom. “Where’s your date?” she asks me.
“Talking to Mom and Dad,” I say, pointing a few tables over to where Mom is smiling brightly at Luis and Dad just clapped him on the shoulder.
My sister scowls as she watches them. “Oh, this is so not fair. Luis has been your boyfriend for five minutes and they’re already falling all over him. It took a year before Mom and Dad even started to warm up to…” She glances toward Nate, who’s still on her other side, and catches herself. “Anyone else.”
Nate slips his good arm around her waist and pulls her close, nuzzling her neck. “What are you talking about?” he teases. “Your parents love me. Always have.”
The DJ picks up his microphone again as the music changes to a pulsing beat. “Everyone, please join the happy couple on the dance floor!”
Kris grabs hold of Cooper’s hand and starts to pull. “Come on. You’d better get ready, because I am a dancing machine at weddings. We’re not stopping until the music does.”
Cooper blinks as he follows. “There’s still so much I don’t know about you, isn’t there?”
“Let’s dance,” Bronwyn says to Nate.
“Can’t.” He holds up his bandaged arm. “I’m injured.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “Your legs aren’t.”
Nate grimaces and raises a hand to his forehead. “I feel dizzy all of a sudden,” he says, sinking into the chair behind him. “I think I might pass out.” When Bronwyn leans over him with a worried expression, he grabs her around the waist and pulls her onto his lap. “I probably need CPR. You’re certified, right?”
“You’re the worst,” Bronwyn complains, but she’s already started kissing him before she finishes the sentence.
I look over at my parents’ table, where Luis is still making polite conversation. Another check mark in his pro column: Good with Parents. I’d suggest he give Nate lessons, but I think the whole sacrificing himself to save Bronwyn deal might’ve finally won them over. When Mom looks our way, she doesn’t even glare at the makeout session happening to my right.
Luis and I spot one another at the same time, and I can’t help but smile when he heads toward me. That boy in a suit—wow.
We meet up on the edge of the dance floor, and he holds out his hand. “Shall we?”
“We shall,” I say. He spins me deftly so my skirt twirls in a glittering circle before he pulls me close. I put my head on his chest, breathing in his clean, soapy smell, and he brings his