“Me,” May says. “We’ll get married this spring, I think. Probably at the church, with a reception right down the hill at Speakeasy. I want something simple.”
“There’s plenty of time to plan a wedding,” I point out.
“There is,” May agrees. “But I watched Lark spend a lot of time and energy trying to throw a wedding that met her mother’s expectations, and I just don’t want a lot of fuss. I don’t want a big puffy dress. I don’t want to throw a sit-down dinner for three hundred people. I want a catered barbecue and contra dancing. I don’t need to reinvent the wheel or throw the wedding of the century.”
“That sounds fun,” I admit. “I’ll help you, if you want. I’ll be here in Vermont.”
“About that…” my sister says.
I groan. “We’ll get into that another time. I made some mistakes last year. I complicated my own life. But it will be fine. I promise.”
“We’re here if you need us,” my mother says.
“I know. Thanks.” It’s nice to hear.
I just wish that they didn’t have to say it.
I make the rounds, congratulating all the soon-to-be-married people. Alec is calm and joyful, while Chastity seems happy enough to burst. When I ask her what kind of wedding she wants, she says “It doesn’t matter. As long as Dylan is there.”
“Can I make a speech?” I ask. “I’ve been saving up embarrassing anecdotes about him for a long time.”
“Have at it,” she says. And then she looks down at her hand to admire her ring again, as if she can’t believe it’s really there.
The last person on my list to congratulate is my twin brother. But I have some trouble finding him until I go into the farmhouse and climb the stairs.
He and Rickie are in the bedroom, and as I walk down the hallway, their conversation ceases.
“Okay,” I say, propping myself in the doorway. “You can stop talking about me now. Or I’ll tell Chastity that I once convinced you that aliens had taken your real sisters away on their ship and left behind a set of imposters.”
“I didn’t actually believe you,” Dylan grumbles. “I was just acting scared.”
Locking my eyes into an unseeing expression, I drift toward the bed with a strange gait.
“Oh, cut that out,” he says, rolling to get out of my path. “That’s creepy.”
Rickie bends in half, laughing.
My brother gets up, looking disgruntled. “You’ve always been good at changing the subject.”
“It’s my super power,” I admit. “That and finding things you would rather keep hidden. But I came up here to congratulate you on your big proposal. That’s a power move.”
“Thank you,” he says, his smile quick.
“The ring is super cool.”
“There’s a store she likes.” He shrugs. “Some idiot gave me a ridiculously big gift certificate there, so I could afford the ring.”
I glance at Rickie, who smirks. “I don’t see any idiots here. Do you?”
“Not touching that, McFly,” I smirk back at him.
Dylan looks from me to Rickie and back again, his expression puzzled. “Okay, I still don’t quite get it with you two. It might take me a few days.”
“Whatever.” I walk over to where Rickie is seated on the bed, and he takes my hand and kisses my palm. It’s just my hand, of course. But Rickie is just about the most sensual man on the planet, so there’s a lot of intention in that slow, sliding kiss.
“Okay. Well.” Dylan looks flustered. “I’ll leave you two, um, to it.”
“To what?” Rickie asks playfully.
“Blergh,” my twin says. “Never mind. Bye, kids.”
“Bye,” Rickie says teasingly.
But Dylan doesn’t walk right out the door. Instead, he steps toward me and then grabs me into a quick, tight hug. “Love you,” he says gruffly. “Don’t be a stranger.”
“Love you, too!” I say to his departing back. Then he’s gone.
It takes me a beat to turn around again. Rickie’s sitting there, smiling at me like he’s pleased with himself.
“Was that weird?” I ask. “He seemed weird. Did you talk about me?”
“Only a little. Come here already. We might as well make out, because that’s what everyone imagines we’re doing right now.”
I suppose that’s true. So I plop down on the bed.
Rickie pounces, pushing me down against the pillows and rolling until he’s on top of me. He smooths the hair away from my face and gives me a lip touch. “You okay?”
“I’m great,” I admit.
“Dylan didn’t really give you a hard time over this, did he?”