Still am.
Watching water gather in her eyes is tearing a crater-sized hole in my chest. But Farrow and I talked a lot, and we knew this was the right choice.
“Luna.” Farrow draws her attention to him. “Hold out your hand.”
Luna scoots forward and extends a hand across the table.
“Palm up,” Farrow adds.
She turns over her hand, and he places the tiny card on her palm, already flipped to his handwriting in black Sharpie.
Be my groomswoman?
Luna wipes her tearful gaze. “Me?”
Farrow smiles softly. “You’re the one holding the card.”
Her eyes drift to me.
“We fought over you,” I tell my sister. “It took hours.”
“I won.” Farrow lifts and lowers his brows in a wave.
Irritation scrunches my face. “I let him win.”
Farrow doesn’t deny.
Him and me—we weren’t even friends way back when. Yet, Luna befriended him. Sought him out and wanted him at her birthday parties. He was 100% not invited to mine.
They have a cool bond, and it only made sense that she’s his groomswoman.
Luna is beaming and rubbing her wet, splotchy face. “Thank you, thank you.” She bounces to her feet, and I take Ripley from Farrow so they can hug her without waking the little guy.
Really, though, Ripley might as well be checked-out. Booked a one-way ticket to Dreamland. I bet it’s better there than most places. Soft snores emit from his parted lips, and I climb upstairs and lay him down for a nap in his crib. On my way back to the dining room, baby monitor in hand, guilt drives into me at fatal speeds.
I didn’t wait for my parents. They missed this.
They knew we were asking Luna, Kinney, and Xander tonight. Fuuuck. And I’m a thousand times more worried about why they’re not here over the fact that they didn’t see their kids’ reactions. Whatever’s keeping them must have been important. Still…
They’re going to be so upset. Not at me. At themselves. And somehow that’s fucking worse.
We’re all back in our seats. Eating meatloaf and mashed potatoes. None of my siblings touch the salad, but we’re in a passionate discussion about the most recent Marvel movie. Everyone shares their opinion. Xander feeds Gotham table scraps, and Kinney asks if she can give Ripley his bottle tomorrow morning.
You’d think as the youngest, Kinney would be the most averse to the baby. But I think she secretly loves anything that belongs to Farrow.
“Do we have to leave potatoes for Mom and Dad?” Xander asks me as he careens over the table to scrape the bowl clean.
“Go for—” I stop short, hearing the sound of the front door.
Everyone quiets like a bullet just sped by and struck the wall. Farrow’s hand slides to my thigh.
My siblings are all looking at me. The heat of their gazes burns my skin.
Growing up, I was always the spokesperson among the four of us. Now more than ever, being back home throws me into this old role.
The main difference is the guy I love. Sitting right beside me with fortitude and resilience. Carrying half the load.
I’m not alone.
I breathe easier.
Hollow pieces filling to the brim.
Farrow trains an eye on my dad.
He traipses in the dining room with cinched brows and a deep frown. His light brown hair is matted. Like he’s been wrenching his hands through it all night. Dark purple half-moons shadow his gaze, and he scans the unspooled ribbon and unwrapped gift boxes, then offers us a dry quarter-smile. “Why does it look like Hedwig just died a second time?” The Harry Potter reference brings smiles to my siblings’ faces.
“Where have you been?” I ask.
“Work—” He stops short as my mom slowly shuffles into the dining room.
She’s small. She’s always been small, but her black sweater appears about a million-sizes too big for her tonight.
“Sorry, we’re late,” my mom mutters, brown hair hanging in her face. Head dipped a little. She won’t look at me, but her eyes are swollen. Like she’s been crying.
Farrow sweeps her features. “Lily—”
My mom flinches like a skittish bird. She whirls right around to the kitchen. “I’llberightback.” She slurs the words together. About to dart out, but my dad blocks the doorway.
“Lo,” she whisper-hisses.
“Lily.”
I can’t do this anymore. It’s been weeks, and whatever is going on, it’s getting worse. They’re not pushing through like I thought they would, and if I can help, then I shouldn’t be dragging my feet doing nothing.
I scoot my chair back, the legs screeching against hardwood. “Can I talk to you both?” I ask them. “Alone?”
“Yeah, bud.” My dad takes my mom’s hand. They actually look relieved to step out for a minute. Away from their youngest kids.
I glance back at Farrow.
He raises his brows at me. “I’m staying with your brother and sisters.” He motions me closer, and I drop my head. Against my ear, he whispers, “They’ll be okay, wolf scout. Do what you need to do.”