Serendipity

Chapter 16

Liz and Cam had no idea, which meant the surprise was a success. Sure, it was a cheesy display of bachelor and bachelorette party decorations along the house’s walls, but the East Meadow friends had insisted on throwing a “stag and hen” party for Cam and Liz. A celebratory night on Fire Island before Roseanne’s party next month.

Who could say no to that?

After her fight with Maggie, her most recent fight, Liz spent the afternoon locked in her bedroom, regretting everything. What had she been thinking, trusting Maggie with the truth about Domus? Had she been so hoodwinked by the brief return of a friend that her lips had broken open so easily, secrets spilled like candy flung from a pi?ata?

Then Cam opened the door and Liz remembered what had happened earlier.

Her heart caught in her throat. “I-I-I went swimming,” she stammered, tears immediately pooling. She usually tried to keep her emotions more in check, but she couldn’t shake this untethered feeling, this sense that she was totally losing control. All she could manage to do was lift her left hand, ringless finger evidence of her crime. What kind of fiancée loses her engagement ring so quickly? Did this mean their marriage was doomed?

What other mistakes would she make before they even arrived at the altar?

Liz’s worries were silenced by the smell of oak and ocean. Cam’s arms protectively wrapped around her, his lips kissing her hair. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’ll all be okay.”

“I’m so sorry,” Liz said, words pressing into his shoulder, feeling how his T-shirt was dampening from her sobs. “I didn’t realize it had slipped off until it was too late. I searched the beach, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. I feel like such an idiot.”

“You aren’t an idiot.” Cam rubbed her back and Liz felt her breath catch up to her. “I’m sorry for not getting it sized before proposing. I had a feeling it was too big. I was supposed to take it into the jeweler, and I was running behind—”

“No, it’s my fault, babe,” she said. “I shouldn’t have worn it in the ocean. I don’t know what I was thinking. Well, I wasn’t thinking. That’s why, I guess.”

“Well, don’t think about it anymore. Not one more thought,” Cam said, tucking his chin over her head the way she loved. Enveloping her in his complete warmth, his safety. “We’ll deal with it all when we get back home. Okay?”

“Okay,” Liz said.

“Okay.” Cam kissed her, deeply.

She wiped her eyes, managing to chuckle a bit. “I need to go wash my face before tonight. I can taste my tears.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but I could, too.” Cam smiled. “We’ll be okay, Lizard. I’m sorry you got so worked up about this, babe. You and me? You know we’re way more than a piece of jewelry.”

Liz did know that. She let herself remember what she loved about him. His tolerance, his resolve. Her commitment to Cam washed over her as she showered in the upstairs bathroom, did her five-minute makeup routine in record time. She painted her cheeks with pink blush, covered her eyelids with a subtle sparkly shadow. Her face would be the first sign of shifting her energy, her spirit for the night. Of leaning into the summer.

Cam handled the ring news with expert fortitude, she thought as she drew liquid liner on her lash line, followed by a perfectly shaped cat eye. Maybe when she came clean about the Domus program, if and when she was accepted, Cam’s reaction would be the same.

How did she get so lucky to have found such a patient man?

Liz found Cam dressed back in their bedroom, donning a short-sleeve button-down shirt with a pattern of tiny hot dogs, hamburgers, and ketchup containers. He was perfect.

This night was going to be perfect, too.

So when Liz grabbed Cam’s hand and led him downstairs to join the group for happy hour, she was shocked to walk into the living room and see Maggie inflating a pastel pink “Bride” balloon. So shocked that she nearly screamed.

“Surprise!” Mac said, popping a bottle of champagne. “Happy early bach weekends.”

“We tried to be as quiet as we could,” Brenna said, gesturing to their work.

“My fingers hurt. You’re welcome,” Quinn said.

“But it was all worth it,” Brenna quickly added, pointing to a custom letter banner that they must have had to string by hand, punching the thin white rope through all the perforated holes to spell out FIRE ISLAND FIANCES. “We love you guys.”

“Where did you even get all these?” Liz asked, laughing through her initial nerves. “Cam, you definitely knew about this.”

“He didn’t,” Mac cut in. “I can attest. Quinn swore us all to secrecy. But Mom wanted to help, too, so I even had to pack a secret bag with all this crap—I mean, cute stuff.”

Sure, bachelorette decorations were sort of tacky, but these had clearly been hung with care. Liz smiled. A part of her still wished that Maggie wasn’t there, a reminder of all that had gone wrong, but Liz put that out of her mind. Maybe this was the opportunity they needed to finally celebrate the good. To remember that this was supposed to be a happy time.

That they were supposed to be a happy couple.

Cam put his arm around her shoulders, and she decided once again to lean in. To his warmth, to their engagement, to it all. It was a sweet, casual surprise, just her friends, all here together. Later they’d go to a beach town bar. Nothing stuffy, everything earnest. Just like Liz and Cam.

“The group wanted to officially celebrate you two,” Mac said, handing a glass of champagne to Cam and then to Liz.

“We’re all so happy for you,” Maggie said. “Really.” Liz didn’t meet her gaze.

“To love,” Brenna said, raising her glass.

“And an excuse for a party,” Quinn added.

“Shoot, I didn’t pack any white,” Cam teased.

“Why don’t you check outside?” Mac said with an air of campy mystery. He led the way out to the patio, which had been transformed with twinkle lights and streamers. The beer pong table was set up with wedding-themed cups, and from the outdoor shower’s ledge, two costume sashes hung. “Bride to Be,” in white. “Groom to Be,” in black. Georgie put them on Cam and Liz as if he were knighting them after battle. Mac turned up the speaker and the party began.

It was silly, Liz knew. Totally against the traditional bachelorette and bachelor party rules dictating separate weekends split by gender.

But for that, Liz liked it all so much better. It was honestly exactly how she would have planned it. Soon, she felt like a teenager again, playing drinking games with Cam as her partner, or catching his eye from across the room and flashing a funny face to make him laugh. She felt young and free and daring, like she’d just left a note in his locker or sent a flirty BBM. Liz scanned the party, happy and having fun, until she realized someone was missing.

Robyn.

What had happened to Robyn?

She pulled Mac off to the side. Cam saw and followed. “Where’s Robyn?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Mac said.

“Did she leave?” Cam asked.

Mac groaned. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“Talk about what?” Liz asked.

“She went home.”

“Home home? Like left-Fire-Island home? Why?”

“Just enjoy your party,” Mac begged.

“We are, we’re just concerned—” Cam started.

“You guys are so annoying sometimes. There’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“We’re just curious, then,” Cam amended.

“And we just want to help,” Liz said. “But fine, if you don’t want to tell us about your girlfriend—”

“Oh my god, fine. Robyn and I are taking a break,” Mac shouted just as the music faded between songs.

Liz’s eyebrows narrowed as she heard Maggie gasp, jaw hanging open. Eyes wide.

“Thanks for the announcement, man,” PJ called out with a laugh, cutting the tension. “Anyone else have anything they want to say?”

“You guys all hate her anyway.”

“That’s not true,” Liz said firmly.

“She’s interesting!” Georgie called over. “Keeps things fresh.”

“We like whoever you want to be with,” Cam agreed.

“Whatever, I don’t want to think about her right now.” Mac chugged the remainder of his beer and threw the empty can toward the garbage, and of course it went straight in. He stared at his hands. Liz felt guilty for prying, but before she could apologize to Mac for making a scene, she saw Maggie walk over to him.

“I’m so sorry, M. Are you okay?” Maggie asked, voice low.

“Is anyone okay?” Mac tried with unconvincing bravado. “I’m kidding. I’m fine, all’s good,” he said, and Liz noticed how his fingers lingered on Maggie’s shoulder. “Hey.” He turned toward the group, a painted-on sparkle in his eyes. “Is this a party or what? Aren’t we supposed to play bridal games or something?”

“Excellent point,” PJ said.

“Yeah, let’s get this party started. We’ve got a bride and groom to game with,” Mac said.

“I’ve never been to one of these things before,” Brenna said. “What do we do?”

“I have a game, actually,” Maggie said, rummaging through her tote bag, which was hooked on an outdoor chair. “I printed out some questions. I saw it in a movie once, thought I’d be ready if the moment came up.”

“Knew we could count on you, M,” Mac said, patting her shoulder again.

“Games are cheesy,” Quinn groaned.

“Cheesy can be fun,” Cam said. “I’m down for a wedding-themed game. Thanks, Maggie. Liz? You cool for a game?”

“Um, yeah, er…whatever you want to do,” she stammered, when she noticed the group looking at her expectantly.

The rules were simple. Or so Liz hoped; she had a hard time tracking the words that spilled from Maggie’s mouth. She was trying to ignore how Mac and Maggie had arranged themselves next to each other, how he stared intently into her eyes. Mac hated when Liz stressed about him, but sometimes she couldn’t help it. He’d always felt like her only brother.

Mac, suddenly single, and they’d already returned to old routines.

Had he paused things with Robyn to explore a reunion with Maggie instead?

Liz didn’t care who Mac dated. She really didn’t. She just wanted him to be happy. Truthfully. More than anything, to find someone who made him feel the way that Cam had made her feel since they were teenagers.

She’d once hoped that person for Mac was Maggie. Cam had hoped it, too. They’d been best friends, all of them, the easiest, most natural grouping. And by senior spring, it had finally happened. Her best friend dating her boyfriend’s brother? It felt like her future family had been guaranteed.

But then Maggie had left, and Mac was devastated. Even though he tried to hide it, he’d admitted to Cam one night that he wished he’d asked Maggie out sooner. Wished he could have had more time with her in East Meadow, when the days dripped with potential, and every young crush felt like a firework.

Liz felt guilty for not predicting how it would crash in the end. From their dorm room, perched on twin beds no more than three feet apart, she alone saw how Maggie never quite felt lonely without Mac by her side. She didn’t pine for him the way Liz ached for Cam. She didn’t send him BBM messages or keep him in the corner of her laptop screen on Google Hangouts, beginning episodes of Always Sunny at the exact same time stamp, anything that let them pretend to be together.

Sometimes, it felt like Liz was sharing a room with a Maggie-shaped ghost. Her best friend was distracted, off, oblivious to how desperately Liz needed her. How they all did.

Then she was gone, breaking Mac’s heart. Breaking Liz’s, too.

“Liz? You ready?” Maggie asked, snapping her back to the present. Ready for what?

“This is going to be easy,” Cam said, nudging Liz’s shoulder with his. “Maggie, kick us off?”

Maggie passed out sheets of paper lined with custom questions. The answers could only be Liz or Cam. The friends were to write down their individual guesses, and once everyone was ready, the couple of honor would reveal the truth. It started off simple enough.

“Who was the best student?” Maggie asked.

“Cam,” Liz said, when it was time. Liz remembered his National Honor Society cords, his valedictorian speech at their graduation ceremony, out on the football field. It had been ninety degrees and sweltering but Cam never lost his cool. She’d watched him from across the field with such admiration, such pride. Her brilliant boyfriend.

The game continued back and forth:

“Best driver?” Liz. She could parallel park like no one’s business.

“Date night planner?” Cam. He always had the best surprises.

“Cleanest?” Cam. A germophobe since his first science class.

“Best in bed?” A protest from Mac—“Come on, ew, that’s my brother!” A tie, instead.

“First to say I love you?” Cam. He was always doting.

“First to suggest moving in together?” Liz. She had always dared.

It was fun, Liz admitted, a trip down memory lane. Reminders of how easy life had been when they were younger. How they’d effortlessly fit, balanced each other out.

It also hurt a little. Where had those two perfect matches gone? Why was it so much harder now?

“Most excited about wedding planning?” Cam. Liz groaned when everyone got that right. Was her heel-dragging so obvious?

“Most excited for the honeymoon?”

Liz and Cam paused before answering that one. The honeymoon? They hadn’t gotten that far yet into their wedding-planning checklist.

“I guess a tie,” Cam said after a beat. “But while we’re on the subject, what do you think, babe? Rome? Paris? Maybe Japan?”

Liz was too tongue-tied to respond. A honeymoon meant a real wedding. What if she was abroad? Rome—what about Milan? She still hadn’t told him. She needed to. She just couldn’t. Maggie, maybe noticing Liz’s discomfort, read the next question.

“Best cook?” Cam. His fancy mac and cheese was a weeknight staple.

“Best gift giver?” Liz. Cam pointed to his calf socks, sticking out of his sneakers as proof.

She gasped. She hadn’t even realized that Cam still had those socks, let alone had packed them and put them on. (Cam had handled laundry ever since they’d moved in together.) There, sewn above the outside of Cam’s ankle, was the Mille Grazi logo, the pizza place in town where Cam and Liz had their first date. The socks were a first anniversary present. Mac had wanted a pair, too—They have the best slice in town!—but Liz had made only one, custom for Cam. On the insides of the socks, Liz had ironed on the exact meal they’d ordered: cartoon garlic knots and pepperoni pinwheels. He’d kept them all these years.

This memory kick-started a round of stories as everyone shared their favorite Cam-and-Liz moment. The homecoming court parade when they’d been crowned class king and queen and escorted around town on a motorcycle. How Liz and Cam frequently showed up late to band class, but appeased Mr. Fletcher with iced coffee from Starbucks so that he could never get too mad.

Liz smiled. She tried to let herself lean all the way back into the highlight reel of their relationship. Their romance “best-of” show. She wanted to remember it, re-create it.

She tried not to notice how close Mac and Maggie were sitting together. They’d answered all the questions correctly. Of course they had. Even with Maggie’s distance, she had known Liz better than anyone for most of their lives. With each correct answer, Mac and Maggie drank. Now they were tipsy, shoulders touching. Flirty. By the time the game ended, they had tied for first place, and it only brought them closer.

Liz’s stomach was in knots. Brenna and Quinn pulled her into a new drinking game, something about guessing the number of fingertips placed along a red cup’s rim, finishing the beer inside if you lost.

Liz tried to have fun. Really, she did.

She tried to ignore the small, inner voice telling her to brace herself. To not get too comfortable.

After all, like the heroes in their memories, the night was still young.