I need to be done with this conversation. My phone buzzes. It’s a text from Rachel, the actual brains of this wedding, telling me that everything is ready to go. I show Abby the text. “Are we doing this wedding thing or not?”
“Whatever, Young. Play it off as much as you want, but you still love Haley.”
I do. “We grew apart.” It’s the truth, yet not. Haley grew, and I didn’t—at least not until it was too late.
“Maybe you can grow back. Logan and I did.”
Abby and Logan broke up after graduation. She went to college on the West Coast. He went to college on the East Coast, and they decided not to torture each other with a long-distance relationship but swore to remain friends. They did.
She graduated and started working for our father. Logan graduated, went to medical school and ended up spending half his time in some practice and the other half in some laboratory looking through a microscope. That is until Abby was diagnosed with an autoimmune disorder. It hit her hard, hit her fast, and there were a few days at the beginning when the doctors prepared us for the worse. She defied death, but it was touch and go for two years, especially during the several rounds of chemo and the bone marrow transplant.
Her disorder is something she’ll always have to deal with, but right now, she’s healthy.
The moment Logan heard Abby was sick, he took the first flight from New York City to Louisville, and he’s never looked back. After the wedding, they’re taking a year and traveling the world. After all she’s been through, she deserves the break.
Abby checks herself out in the mirror beside me and then takes a deep breath. “I’m ready now.”
My eyes flicker to her bare feet. “Forgetting something?”
“Nope. Now, lead me to my wedding.”
I learned in high school never to argue with Abby. It’s safer for everyone that way. I offer Abby my arm, she accepts, and we head for the rest of her life.
The vows have been said, most of the fanfare over and now the gathering only made up of close friends and family has entered a relaxed and celebratory mood. Logan and Abby are in the middle of the makeshift dance floor under the tent put up at the winery. He holds her close as they dance. They whisper and laugh with one another in a way that’s so intimate it feels like I should look away.
Today has been one of the best in a long time. While we all stay in touch, our lives are busy. To have everyone in one place is a rare occurrence. Today feels good and right.
Rachel and Echo are gathered around Beth, carrying on about triplets. Congrats are deserved, but I can’t figure out how you feed three at once.
Isaiah, Noah, Ryan, Logan and Ryan’s high school friends Chris and Lacey and I are catching up while we watch their children have a dance-off on the corner of the dance floor. Everyone’s deep in conversation they believe I’m listening to, but Haley has my attention. She’s across the tent chatting with my mother and father. Both of them adored her, and I’m not surprised that they cornered her. My entire family grieved when we ended.
Haley politely laughs with my mom, and I don’t miss how Haley’s gaze flickers toward me. It makes me think of my birthday in high school when my mother hijacked Haley to show her baby pictures of me. Back then, Haley was equal parts fascinated by Mom and ready for an escape. She wears the same expression now. I guess some things never change.
Tonight, I’m still bad boy enough to have a few smooth moves remaining. I stand, button my tux coat and take the long walk toward the girl I loved more than my own life.
Mom’s telling Haley about the tedious preparations leading to the wedding, and I go old school rude and don’t even bother to wait for Mom to take a breath. I slip in between them and offer my open palm to Haley. “Would you like to dance?”
Haley and I haven’t said hi, haven’t spoken a word tonight or in years. Short of each us catching the other looking from afar during the wedding, we’ve had no contact. Asking her to dance is bold, but if she remembers, bold is who I am.
Mom falls silent, and Haley studies me. My hand remains still, unwavering, and she finally