Chapter 5
Chapter Five
I arrive at the ballroom forty minutes early with a printed seating chart and a roll of double-sided tape. My eyes bug out of my head when I see that the ship's events staff has set the place cards we asked for in alphabetical order. As if I didn't send over a seating diagram.
Finn insisted on coming up early with me, and now the two of us are hustling to redistribute all seventy-three cards.
I start with my dad’s name first since the current setup has him sitting next to my mother.
Instead, he gets Table Eleven in the corner.
Near the service door between Aunt Bev, who will talk at him for three uninterrupted hours, and cousin Renata's fiancé, who doesn't know anyone. It’s a masterclass in quarantine.
“Harper.” My mother materializes at my elbow in a blue wrap dress, smelling like the Pantene shampoo she's used since before I was born, and starts fixing my hair without asking. “You're wearing earrings. See, you can be taught.”
I push her hands away. “I always wear earrings, Mom.” Only because I bought those hoops you can sleep, shower, or mud bathe in. Life changing.
Mom tucks a piece of hair that escaped my updo behind my ear, then holds my face in both hands for a second. Her eyes go soft and glassy. “Look at all this. You did this.”
“Pam’s team did most of it.”
She pats my cheek like I'm being stupid. “Okay, honey.”
Here's the thing about my mom. She fell hard for two years after my dad went to prison, but when she got back up, she skyrocketed into the stratosphere. She’s spent every year since being relentlessly on her feet. Like she's doing penance.
She took a hospital billing job at fifty-one. She learned Excel off YouTube. She volunteers at the food bank every Wednesday and is the first to sign up for meal trains, fundraisers, or community 5k’s.
If you want something done, she’s your person. Which was why it was so dang hard to convince her to let me take on the wedding. It was my consolation after losing the vote on inviting Dad. There was no way I could handle this without something to distract me.
“Hey.” Finn appears next to me. “Anything else?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Just wait for everyone to show up.”
He nods, adjusting his belt. He cleaned up nice in a cream collared shirt, linen dress slacks, and leather loafers sans socks.
“Where did you get all this?” I motion to his outfit.
“Like, where? The stores?”
I laugh. “No, the idea. You’re supposed to be blue-collar, right? You look like you just flew back from Paris.”
Finn raises a brow. “In a bad way?”
“No, not— It’s just surprising.”
Now he’s grinning. “Did you expect me to show up in overalls?”
Truth be told, I didn’t know what to expect. When we crossed paths in the grocery store over Christmas, he was in sweats and a T-shirt. I’ve never in my adult life seen Finn look so—
“Handsome.” Mom grabs one of Finn’s biceps and leans back, appraising. “I remember when you used to run around in your underwear.”
“Still do sometimes.” Finn’s eyes flick to mine, and I pretend there’s someone who needs me at the pop-up bar.
When I get there, I have to come up with questions for the bartender to make it look legit.
We talk about Marco’s favorite drinks and how his son back home is better at this job than he is.
I honestly wouldn’t mind standing and talking with him for the rest of the night, but it’s seven o’clock and the room is already starting to fill.
Chatter accompanies the live music from the four-piece band playing old jazz standards from the corner. The room is washed in warm light, and it does nothing for the coral roses. They look more orangey-pink than they did in the hall.
“There she is.” Priya, Dahlia’s first college roommate, arrives already holding two glasses of wine.
She's been an honorary Quinn since she came home with Dahlia for Thanksgiving freshman year.
“I've been on this boat for thirty hours.
I've had four pina coladas and seen two whales.
I'm never going home. Who do I talk to about being buried at sea?”
“Pam at guest services.”
“Excellent. Love Pam.” She scans the room over her glass. “You forgot your black jacket.”
I glance down at my sleeveless silk top and frown.
Priya laughs. “Because you’re standing here like one of the staff.”
I grin. “Mm. Thank you.” I know I should walk over and start talking to people, but I’m avoiding it as long as possible. “I don’t know how she’s doing this,” I whisper. Dahlia’s a few tables over, laughing in her tight burgundy dress with our father taking his seat across the room.
“She’s struggling just like you.” Priya nudges my elbow. “She’s just better at hiding it.”
I nod. It’s true. She may have voted for Dad to come, but it was because she felt like it was the right thing to do. Not because she was excited about it.
When we were little, I remember finding her crying in her room after our cat died.
In the moment, she said things like, “It’s okay because she was old” or “Now she’ll get to be with her family in heaven.
” I was the one curled up on the couch, refusing to talk to anyone while Dahlia was ready to dig a hole in the backyard.
She even brought me a popsicle. There’s still a faint pink stain on Mom’s couch from where I let it drip.
A ripple of laughter rises from the bar end of the room. I turn to see Dahlia’s bridesmaids circling Finn like he’s about to do a magic show. Sadie has a hand flat on his forearm. Marisol is leaning over so her boobs nearly fall out of her dress. They’re great boobs, I have to admit.
He says something, the whole cluster breaks up laughing, and that old, stupid jealousy climbs the ladder of my spine and starts screaming from the top rung. I’m fifteen again, standing behind the fence.
I reach for one of Priya’s glasses of wine and take a gulp.
“Okay! Now the party’s starting!” Priya grabs my arm and drags me into the fray, but I can’t stop glancing over at Finn and the girls.
He’s not doing anything wrong. He's the best man. His job description is literally this. But when I see my dad rise from his seat, holding his place card, and waltz over to Theo and Dahlia’s table at the front, I want to punch both of them in the face.
“Hold,” Priya says, feeling me tense.
“What the hell is he doing?”
“Which one?” She gives me a look, but before I can answer, Dahlia’s hugging me.
“This is amazing! Thank you so much, Harp!”
I laugh. “Hey, it was your and Theo’s money.”
She pulls back with a grimace, gripping my shoulders, and she doesn’t have to ask the question. It’s written all over her face.
“I’m fine.” I lean in. “But Dad just sat down next to Theo.”
Dahlia looks confused for a moment, then her eyes widen.
She peers over my shoulder, curses under her breath, then smiles and excuses herself.
I have half a mind to go with her, but my mom is laughing louder than necessary, talking with Aunt Bev, who’s very confused as to why she’s now sitting next to an empty chair.
I’m about to walk in their direction when I see Finn’s eyes on me. He’s peering over Sadie's head, thrown back mid-laugh. When our gazes lock, it’s like someone plugged my ears with wax, the conversations around me fading, my pulse pounding at my throat.
I flash what has to be a creepy doll smile and rush toward my mom.
Together, the three Quinn women corral the group to their seats so the servers can plate our salads.
All except my father. He’s still sitting at Dahlia’s table.
He borrowed a chair from somewhere and wedged in at the corner between Mom and Theo's grandmother, and nobody stopped him. Let’s be honest, nobody has ever stopped my father.
We get through the first half of the meal, and even though I’m listening to my cousin Garrett talk about his pediatric residency, I catch every other word in my dad’s conversation.
He’s telling the raccoon-in-the-church-basement story, and it has a new ending now.
It’s funnier. Theo's grandmother laughs so hard she has to pull out her handkerchief.
“. . . but it’s only six months, you know?”
I nod, having no idea what I’m supposed to know. “It’s amazing, Garrett. You’re going to be an incredible doctor.”
He sighs, reaching for his drink. “I’m just glad Dahlia decided to get married before the end of June, or I wouldn’t have been able to come.”
“Do all residencies start in the summer?” I take another bite of salmon. It’s surprisingly good. Flaky and drenched in lemon.
Garrett explains more about his residency placement and starts a conversation with Theo’s half-brother, Chris, who’s sitting across from us.
When Dahlia suggested we mix up the tables and not sit with the people in our family we know best, I wasn’t her biggest fan.
With all the stress of this event, the last thing I wanted to do was chat with strangers or estranged family members.
But I have to admit, this is nice. Chris did a humanitarian trip with Doctors Without Borders.
Not as a doctor, but as support staff, since he speaks fluent Portuguese.
I’m so enjoying our conversation that it’s a little disappointing when someone’s voice sounds over the microphone.
Then I realize it’s Finn, and my pulse skips.
He looks relaxed and loose. Like he just walked in from a fantastic make-out session.
Why is that all I think about when I look at him?
Probably because the majority of the time I spent with Finn, we were both steeped in teenage hormones.
I’m like Pavlov’s dogs, salivating every time he rings the bell.
Was his shirt always unbuttoned that far at the top?
“Hey, everyone. Sorry to interrupt your dinner.” He runs a hand through his hair, and I can practically hear every woman in the room ovulate. “I hear that the incredible Dreamboat staff is about to bring out a sinful chocolate cake, so I thought I’d do this before I completely lose your attention.”
Dahlia’s bridesmaids titter around their table, and my grip tightens on my fork.
“As the best man,” Finn continues, “I have the sacred responsibility of embarrassing the groom. Keeping him humble and grounded.” He laughs, making eye contact with Theo, whose cheeks are going pink. “My friend, bro love of my life, this is for you.”
Everyone claps, and the screen over the little parquet dance floor blinks to life. The lights in the room dim, and laughs erupt as a goofy picture of Theo pretending to be Spider-Man in his underwear flashes on the screen with the title, “Theo and Dahlia: No Takebacks.”
My eyes sting at the unexpected rush of emotion.
That’s what we always used to say growing up.
Theo was the worst. Always showing up and offering to share a toy or snack, then deciding thirty minutes later that he didn’t want us to touch it.
Even in middle school, we could see the wheels turning in his head, warring between the desire to be generous and his over-analytical brain.
Finn’s looking at me again, and it only makes the lump in my throat worse.
Especially because pictures of the four of us are now flashing ahead of me.
Theo at nine, gap-toothed on a bike ramp made of stolen plywood.
There’s Finn and me in the background. Dahlia's fifth-grade dance recital, all elbows and knees.
The four of us at the creek, sunburned and blurry. One of my favorites.
There's a shot of Larkspur Street in the fall from someone's porch roof.
There's Theo and Dahlia outside her eighth-grade graduation, pretending to be secret agents. Theo and Finn crashed even though they were older and not allowed to come into the dance. Finn told us that if anyone tried to touch our boobs, he’d beat them up over the weekend.
I fan the top of my shirt, heat rising so fast I start to sweat. Pictures of Theo in high school start up, then Dahlia as a freshman, and my hands start to shake.
“I’ll be right back,” I murmur, even though Garrett and Chris likely couldn’t care less whether I’m there or not.
I’m halfway to the door when there’s an audible gasp from the table I’m passing. My Aunt Mary looks like she just swallowed something sour, and as she turns to whisper something to my uncle, I look up and freeze.
A wedding photo. My mom in lace, my dad in a tux. Both of them radiant on the church steps. Then it’s Theo, in his own tux at what looks like a college formal. Champagne in one hand. His other arm around a woman who is not my sister. Dark hair, green dress, laughing up at him.
My jaw drops as I search for Dahlia and Mom. What in the world was Finn thinking putting up—
Another picture of my dad. This time with my mom cutting their wedding cake, about to shove a bite into Mom’s mouth.
I spin and start toward the staff member manning the projector, but Aunt Bev’s already there. She reaches over the guy and hits the power button. When the music cuts out, my mom grabs the mic from where Finn left it on the side of Theo and Dahlia’s table.
“Well, Finn, thank you. That was lovely . . .”
I don’t hear the rest of her speech over the ringing in my ears. I search for Finn and find him half bent over his chair, saying something to Marisol before he laughs and straightens.
I’m going to kill him.
He knows how we both feel about my dad, never mind my mom’s feelings about seeing her old wedding photos. Didn’t I just tell him that I wanted everything to be perfect for Dahlia? Is this his idea of a joke? A way to needle them about his objections to their nuptials?
I can’t open my mouth here or there’s a good chance I’ll punch him in his perfect mouth, so I continue on my path to the hall. I slam through the double doors and walk, no idea where I am on this stupid ship.
“Harper!”
Finn’s voice. This time, my Pavlovian response is anything but swooning. I walk faster since the alternative is whirling and yelling at his beautiful face outside the spa entrance.
“Harper, c’mon!”
C’mon? C’mon, what? Be a good sport about him plastering our most painful family memories all over the wall at my sister’s welcome dinner?
Hot tears sting my eyes as I turn into the landing for the elevator bank. What floor am I on? I slam my palm against the fingerprint-smudged button.
Finn skids around the corner, breathing hard. “Harper—”
“How dare you?” I spit. “My parents’ wedding photos? Seriously, Finn? You—”
“Those weren’t my photos!” he cuts in, his face pulled into a scowl. “Harp, I’d never do that. I’ve never seen those pictures in my life.”
I blink, his words sinking through me in layers. “What?”
The elevator dings. His hands clasp mine as he leans down to my level. “I swear, Harper. Whatever that was in there, it wasn’t me.”