that shade of red that makes me want to pull her into my lap. “It was the only word I could make.”
I lay down “cupid.”
“Oh, come on!” Emily cries. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. You’re practically having a conversation on the Scrabble board!”
“Like Hazel said, that was the only word I could make, too.”
Mother groans as she places down “car.”
“Do you see?” she snaps. “Do you see how unlucky this poor old woman is?”
“Hey, you’re not old,” Hazel says.
“No? I feel like a fossil.”
“Let me take you to a club sometime.” Hazel chuckles. “You too, Em. We’ll tear up the dance floor and before the night’s over, you’ll both have a dozen phone numbers each, I promise.”
Mother lifts her hands to the sky. “Mio Dio! You are a crazy woman.”
“Well …” Hazel winks at me. “Maybe just a little.”
I relax into the game, only checking that the guards are still in position every now and then. Soon, it’s like the last picnic didn’t even happen. I wonder if it’s possible for the present to erase the past like that. Maybe now when I think about picnics, this will come to mind; the smell of Hazel’s perfume, fresh flowers, the taste of ham and cheese on rye, the sound of Hazel’s laughter.
Maybe a future with Hazel is just what I need to forget the devils of the past.
“Hey,” Hazel says just as the game’s coming to an end. Mother and Emily are debating if “selfie” is an actual word. “Where are you, space cadet?”
I softly slide my hand around the back of her neck and pull her close to me as I lean in. Lately, every kiss has been like our first, full of charged potential, a fiery passion igniting in each subtle movement of our lips. She whimpers, gripping onto my shirt, tugging me closer.
“I’m right here,” I whisper, when it finally breaks off. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Later, as the picnic winds down, Hazel leaps to her feet and gestures for Ubert. At first, I wondered if maybe he was attracted to her, but now he looks at her like a big brother would. I’m glad about that. It’s just the thing you want in a guard. And perhaps Hazel needs a big brother. I can’t imagine what it must be like being an only child.
“Will you take our photo?” Hazel asks.
“But my veil,” Mother whispers. She looks to Ubert. “I didn’t bring one. Oh, could you be a dear and run back—”
“Alda.” Hazel puts her hands on Mother’s shoulders and looks her seriously in the eyes. “You are a beautiful woman. That scar is hardly noticeable, and even when it is, it doesn’t hold a candle to the rest of you. I’m not going to try and guilt you into not wearing the veil. But please just know that you don’t need it. Not even a little bit.”
Pride swells in my chest. Emily is positively beaming. Mother’s smile is oddly girlish.
“Oh, well, I suppose just one photo couldn’t hurt.”
We all crouch down around Emily. I’ve got my arm around Hazel and Mother, and Hazel has her arm around Emily and Mother. We say “cheese” like we’re a real family. And for a few minutes, I really do feel like we are.
As Mother wheels Emily to the separate car they’re taking back home—Emily lets her do this sometimes, even if the chair is electric—Emily gives me a go-get-her-bro look. Hazel sees this and looks between us in confusion, giving my arm a little squeeze. I swallow about a thousand nerves. I don’t know why I’m so nervous, though. Or maybe that’s a blood-red lie. Maybe it’s because what I’m going to do this afternoon will make us, on some level, official.
“Okay, what’s going on?” Hazel asks. “Everybody’s acting all weird. Is it a good thing? Carlo, you better not be about to take me into the woods and make it so I meet with an ‘unfortunate accident’ or whatever you guys say.”
“Don’t joke about that,” I say, leading her toward the car where Ubert is waiting.
“Sir, yes, sir!” she replies. “Seriously, you’re freaking me out.”
I turn to her, kissing her softly on the head, tasting shampoo, smelling Hazel, needing her every waking second of my life. Every sleeping second, too. There’s this little voice inside of me roaring: don’t do it! Don’t cross that line! But I ignore it. Things have changed. I’m not the same man I was when Hazel and I first met.
“It’s good news, I think,” I