Chapter 31
Zander slid the veggie lasagna onto the counter and collapsed into a kitchen chair with a sigh, grabbing for his sweating bottle of beer.
He didn’t drink much anymore—he’d gotten most of his partying out when he and Mal were young rebels—but today he was making an exception.
After a few busy days of preparation, it was finally Honey Festival eve.
Never in the history of time had “we need to talk” been about anything good, but when he’d called Quinn to pull something more out of her, she’d been tight-lipped.
Which meant now he was in his kitchen alone with a lasagna, waiting for his ex-wife and his best friend to show up and tell him what was going on.
Penny was on her own to rest that evening.
They’d been together almost nonstop prepping for the festival—supervising the tent setup downtown, moving in equipment, and putting out last-minute fires with vendors.
When he was free at night, they were together.
But they hadn’t talked more about what might happen in just another two weeks, when Zander was set to return to Boston.
But while he tried to stay optimistic about keeping their relationship going, to trust that she wouldn’t be able to let this go either, something about Penny had him on edge.
It wasn’t anything big, just lingering touches and looks verging on sadness.
As though with every interaction, she was saying goodbye.
He was eager to help her game plan with the loan stuff, but only at Penny’s request. A request that didn’t seem to be coming.
So as the Becker women waited to see how the festival went before sorting out next steps, Zander waited to see if Penny wanted him to be part of her life when those steps came around.
At six fifteen, Mallory swept in through the kitchen side door. “So sorry we’re late!”
“I timed the food for your lateness.”
Mal huffed. “That’s rude. I’m not always late.”
Zander and Quinn exchanged a look.
“You know—” Mallory pointed at each of them in turn. “You two can be very annoying.”
Quinn consoled Mallory with a rub on the back. “You knew that from the start, babe.”
Zander put out a stack of plates and pulled a salad he’d prepped earlier from the fridge. One more trip to the oven revealed foil-wrapped garlic bread.
“Whoa, Zander,” Mallory cooed. “You made us a feast.”
He shot Mal a sideways look. “Maybe I was working off some nerves after my co-parent said, ‘We need to talk,’ without giving me any context.”
“I’m sorry.” Mallory reached for a plate. “I didn’t want to freak you out. It’s nothing bad. We just wanted—to—”
“Talk. Yes, you said that. Tell me what’s going on.”
He dished up lasagna as Quinn and Mallory took their seats. Quinn scooted her chair close to Mal so their knees were touching, then squeezed her hand.
“First,” Quinn spoke through a shaky voice, her bottom lip trembling.
“Wait.” Zander’s lungs emptied. “What the fuck is going on? Why do you look so nervous? Are you okay? Are you sick?”
“Zander.” Quinn sighed with a smirk. “I’m fine. I’m better than fine. Mal and I—” She looked to Mallory, who was basically glowing. “We’re getting married.”
The spatula still in Zander’s hand clattered to the table. “What?”
“We’re. Getting. Married,” Quinn repeated slowly. “You know, wife and wife, till death do us part and all that.”
He blinked at her, a wire in his brain tripping over and over. “You don’t believe in marriage. You think it’s a useless institution that normalizes heteronormative values.”
Quinn’s face started going red. “Well, then I fell in love with your ex-wife and changed my fucking mind, Z.”
“Plus,” Mallory joined in, her voice cautious, “there are advantages, obviously. Legal protections and stuff. And Quinn can get on my insurance from work. But those are just perks. Mostly we just want to marry each other.”
Zander stood slowly, looking between them both as something in him fizzed, bubbling up like the champagne he’d shared with Penny. “You just want to marry each other.”
“Yes,” Quinn said firmly. “I swear to god, Zander, if you throw some sort of fit about this I will fucking—”
But Quinn shut up when Zander hauled her out of her chair and yanked her into his arms. She squealed as he lifted her off her feet, whooping.
Quinn wiped at her tears as Zander plopped her back into her seat. “Oh my god!” She smacked his arm. “I thought you were mad, you fucking asshole!”
“I’ll only be mad if I’m not your best man. Or maybe—” He looked to Mallory, who watched with glee. “Maybe I should be your best man. I think you two will have to fight over me this time.”
When Mallory laughed wetly and threw herself at him, Zander pulled her close.
“I’m so happy for you, Mal.” He said it quietly, only for her.
Because he’d loved her so much in his way, and because she’d helped him save himself all those years ago.
“You deserve this.” He kissed her forehead.
“Just remember that I married you first.”
Still laughing, she pulled herself from his arms to join Quinn for a kiss that Zander astutely did not watch.
“Jesus,” he said once they’d all sat down again. “That was quite a family meeting.”
“Actually”—Mallory’s eyes darted toward Quinn—“that was just the first item. The other item is that, um, well…”
“I got it, babe.” Quinn patted her hand. “Zander, we want to move back to Sullivan’s Glen.”
There were confusing upside moments, and then there were moments like this.
“Sorry.” Zander shook his head. “It sounded like you just said you wanted to move to Sullivan’s Glen.”
Mallory leaned toward Quinn. “I told you this wouldn’t go well.”
“Just give him a minute,” Quinn assured her.
“Hi.” Zander waved from across the table. “Hi. I’m right here. Remember me, Mal? I’m the guy you asked to get you out of here? The guy you begged to run away with you to leave this place behind.”
“That was seventeen years ago, Zander. We were kids. It’s different now, for both of us. You know that.”
Of course it was different. His memories of this place were jagged and angry; until this summer Sullivan’s Glen had been frozen in his mind as the jail he’d had to live in, a sentence he’d had to endure.
And now? It was just a place, another town in another valley. Once he let his memories be just that—memories—the town had no power over him.
Or did it? Because now Sullivan’s Glen was the place where his kid watched a baby bee emerge, where Zander went door-to-door downtown to talk to shop owners about the Honey Festival, where Candace Robinson told him she loved him, and Cynthia Becker let him cry on her shoulder.
And it was home to Penny Becker, whose imprint was everywhere. On every bee, in each flower, all over his stupid heart.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. He liked it here.
“Mallory.” He clung to some form of reality that made sense, that didn’t ask him to uproot himself to come back to the place he’d been on the run from for almost two decades. “We live in Boston. Our whole lives are there.”
“Are they?” she questioned. “Quinn and I work remotely, so we don’t have work communities.
You move from project to project, so you’re always working with different people, and now you know chefs and investors and stuff all over the country.
Our apartments are crappy and small, and we don’t have any support systems there. ”
He winced. “It hasn’t been so bad, has it? We’ve had a good life.”
“Of course we have, Zander, and I am the luckiest woman in the world. But have you ever thought how it could be to live close to family? To have big dinners and holidays? To have backup when we needed it?”
“No,” he shot back defensively. “I’ve never thought about it, because I don’t have a family to live close to.”
“You do,” Mallory said fiercely. “You know you do. My parents have wanted for years to be there for you if you’d only let them.”
Zander let his face fall into his hands. “This is a big bomb you’re dropping. Have you talked to Winter about this?”
“No.” Mal shook her head vehemently. “I wouldn’t do that without you, you know that.
But I think he’d be open to it. It’s a good transition time for him, and he’s made some friends.
He’s getting along well with my parents, and he has so much more access to nature.
I think it’s worth talking to him about it, feeling him out. ”
“Do you remember how pissed he was about coming here?”
“Guess what, genius?” Quinn jumped in now, slapping the table.
“You were pissed, too. I recall having to drag your grumpy ass out of bed those first days. And now? Z, you’re the happiest I’ve ever seen you.
” Her voice cracked. “You’re the kind of happy I’ve always wanted for you. Can’t you fucking see that?”
He swallowed, shutting his eyes like it might cut off the onslaught of feelings and questions.
Because he was the happiest he’d been in a long time, and it was terrifying.
Asking Penny to do long-distance without a real plan for the future was one thing.
But this? This was going all in on those dreams he’d only let himself glimpse.
And there would always be a voice in his head telling him it couldn’t last, that he wasn’t worth it.
“Look around,” Quinn continued. “You’ve made this place a home. A beautiful, happy home. The kind you always deserved.”
He followed her gaze around the room: freshly painted cabinets and brightened walls, the counter where remnants from cooking still sat on his cutting board.
This kitchen didn’t lie. Neither did his room, or Winter’s.
All along, he’d told himself he was making it comfortable for his kid, helping make his summer a little better. But maybe there’d been something in it for him, too.
Maybe his papou had left him this place for more than just selling.
He collapsed backward in his chair, sighing out a long breath. “This is a fucking lot, you guys.”
Mal stood and moved to him. “I know. And we would never do this without you, Z. When we split, we promised to stay in the same place until Winter was grown, and I’ll never break that promise to you. If you’re not into this idea, it’s dead in the water. And that’s okay.”
“But think about it,” Quinn added. “Think about what you want, and what you deserve. And maybe what Penny deserves, too.”
“Don’t.” He shook his head. “Don’t bring her into this.”
Quinn cocked an eyebrow. “Why not? She’s a part of it.”
She was the biggest part of it, and that was the problem. “Because what if I say yes, Quinn? What if I agree to uprooting all our lives and moving to this small fucking town in upstate New York and then Penny doesn’t want me? What the hell will I do then?”
Just sit alone and grumpy in an old house, hopelessly in love with the town’s beekeeper?
Quinn drew in a long breath and let it out slowly.
“Zander, I can’t convince you that you’re worthy of love.
I’ve tried, and you’ve continued to be a huge pain in my ass about it.
I can’t promise you what Penny will do, or assure you that everything will work out.
All I can tell you is that you have to believe that your happiness is worth taking the risk. ”
Zander shook his head. “Mal, you’ve ruined her, you know that? Quinn used to be all ‘Fuck everybody, we’re better alone.’ Those were the good ol’ days.”
“No.” Quinn laughed. “Those were the sad old days. Simpler maybe, but sad. What do you say? You’ll think about it?”
He looked around the kitchen again, then let his mind wander outside, where the For Sale sign still leaned against the porch. Obviously, some part of himself was already decided. Had maybe decided weeks ago and was waiting for the rest of him to catch up.
He nodded. “Let’s talk to Winter.”
Mallory’s eyes bugged. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. Who am I to argue with the romantic notions of the newly engaged?”
“We could talk to him tonight,” Quinn offered.
Mallory’s bright fingernails rattled on the table as she sat back down. “Holy shit. Yeah, okay. Wow. Okay.”
Wow. Okay, was right. Something seismic was shifting for all of them, just as the dings and buzzes of phone notifications lit up around the table.
“Maybe Winter needs something,” Mallory mumbled as she pulled out her phone. But as soon as she swiped it open, her eyes went wide. “Holy shit.”
Zander’s heart plummeted. “Mal, what?”
“My mom said there was some kind of water main leak downtown. No one realized, but it made everything wet under the road.”
Quinn was staring at her phone, too. “RJ’s texting, too, he said—”
“RJ?” Mallory interrupted. “Since when do you text RJ?”
Quinn blushed. “We’ve kind of been talking about starting up a queer hockey team. I haven’t told you yet because I’ve never done sports, so I’m a little anxious.”
“Babe! That’s so cool! You’ll look so hot in hockey gear—”
Zander cleared his throat loudly. “Can we focus, please? What did RJ have to say?”
“Oh yeah.” Quinn glanced back at her phone. “There’s a sinkhole downtown. Like, a big one.”
“A sinkhole?”
“Yeah. He said half of Main Street is gone.”
Zander rubbed his face. “What the—”
But then his phone on the table buzzed, Penny’s name on the screen.
“Penny,” he answered. “What’s going on?”
“Zander.” Her voice wobbled. “Zander, we’re fucked. The Honey Festival is canceled.”