Chapter 41
EILEEN
The Reception
After the nuptials, I’m on edge as we walk down the aisle.
Jason whispers, “On my signal, follow me. We’re running away.”
As soon as we’re out of eyesight from the wedding guests, I take off my heels, Jason loosens his tie, and we make a break for it. We run as fast as we can, as far away from the rest of the wedding as we can.
The sun hasn’t started setting yet, but the sprinklers are already going on the golf course. The sky’s still so beautiful and bright as the wet grass nips my feet and Jason tries (poorly) to shield us from blasts of water.
I’m laughing so hard I can barely catch my breath. His hand doesn’t let go of mine the entire way. It feels so warm, protective... it feels so right in mine.
“Where are we going?!” I shout at one point around the 16th hole.
“Anywhere we want!” He shouts back.
I slow down. “You had no real escape plan, did you?”
He stops running, panting heavily. “Well—I don’t know. It seemed right in the moment?”
We stare at each other for a second. The laughter slips out of us easily, like it always does.
Except this time, it ends with Jason wrapping his arms around my waist as he leans in to kiss me.
He kisses like it’s the first, last, and best kiss all combined. It’s like getting lost in a supernova of emotions.
Jason pulls me in closer, anchoring me against him as we deepen the kiss.
Fuck, we really need to talk about what happened back there during the ceremony.
“We can’t have sex on the golf course,” I say.
“I could buy the golf course,” he rasps. “Then it wouldn’t matter.”
“Don’t,” I say. “There are thousands of other places you can buy that we could have sex on.”
He chuckles. “Yeah? You mean that?”
I lick my lips, shuddering. He can be so distracting with his... everything.
Focus, this is important, I remind myself.
“Why don’t you ask me what you really want to know?” I whisper. “Don’t you think you deserve good things too?”
His lips twitch. He almost smiles. He’s so fucking hesitant.
I get it, but it takes two to tango. He has to be brave too.
“Do we have to be friends that hook up?” He asks softly.
I kiss his lips quickly. “What kind of friends do you think we should be instead? The kind that live together?”
“Maybe someday,” he says cupping my face and kissing my nose. “We could also be the kind of friends who love each other very fucking much, and who say that a lot while they go on adventures together—”
“Kinda like dates?”
“Not only dates,” he says.
“And then what?” I ask. “Be the kind of friends who don’t want to look for another friend ever again because their current friend is more than they could’ve ever asked for?”
He kisses me again, and again, and again.
I get lost in the way his kisses say the same thing he whispered as we walked out of the wedding, arm in arm.
I love you. I love you. I. Love. You.
This man is ridiculous, loud, soft, energetic, serious, and everything in between. Putting myself out there is hard. I still feel like I’m dreaming because I don’t get the guy or the happy endings. I get a flurry of dead ends and half-assed apologies that hardly ever come.
Being vulnerable is so fucking hard. It’s such a risk to put my real self in front of someone else and say, “Here I am, warts and all, accept or reject what I have to offer.” It’s crazy scary and something I’ve never wanted to do before.
For Jason, though, it doesn’t feel crazy. It feels like floating on a cloud, falling gently somewhere safe to land. Somewhere safe that I’ve been searching for my entire life.
Being vulnerable for Jason isn’t easy, not by a long shot. But thinking about what he said in those vows—
I vow to spend every day cherishing everything you are and everything you bring to me—
It makes me realize that love, being intimate and vulnerable, isn’t about being confident enough to conquer the world. It’s about being patient, listening, and learning how to grow into the people we need to be, together.
For him, I would try anything. I can’t imagine who I’d be if he hadn’t… happened upon me.
If he hadn’t happened to me, really.
“Yeah,” I say when we stop kissing. “I don’t want to hook up just for the weekend. I’m yours, Jason Spearman, for as long as you’ll have me.”
He flashes me an ear-splitting grin. He kisses me on the head.
“Good. You already stole my heart, Eileen McBean,” Jason says. “At this point, I’m not sure you’ll ever give it back, and I can’t live without it. Without you.”
I laugh, leaning in for another kiss.
Getting drenched in more sprinkler water feels poetic. Perfect.
Eventually, we make our way back to the wedding. We missed the after-ceremony pictures, but they got us in the pre-ceremony pictures, so it’ll be fine.
Leave it to Charlie to do multiple shoots during her wedding. I’m sure her friends are all jumping at the chance to snap their own pictures for social media.
Dinner goes off without a hitch. So do the speeches. A few days ago, Charlie asked if Jason and I would mind giving our speech time to other people in the wedding party who are from out of town.
Apparently, distance means not seeing them as often so it’s more important that they speak than the Maid of Honor and Best Man.
Fast forward to the reception and I couldn’t be happier with that decision. I don’t have a nice thing to say to Charlie right now. But regardless of how I feel, she deserves a good wedding reception.
Dancing starts, so does the mischievous look on Jason’s face. When the father-daughter dance is over, and the ballroom opens for general dancing, he leans over the table.
“Would you mind if I have this dance?” he asks, offering me his hand.
I take it without hesitation. “I’d be insulted if you didn’t.”
The band we chose is perfect. They take a few requests as we dance around the ballroom.
At some point, my brother, Sam, cuts in.
“You mind if I dance with my sister, bro?” he asks Jason.
Jason looks at me, I shrug and nod.
Sam’s never been a part of the problem.
“I’m grabbing something from the bar,” he says. “Want anything?”
“See if they have something seasonal,” I call out as he walks away.
Sam’s never been one for dancing. I should admit he’s not terrible at it.
“So, I heard you told Mom and Charlie off,” Sam says.
I sigh. “Yeah, something like that.”
“That’s pretty badass,” he says.
“Yeah? You think so?”
“Definitely,” he says. “It’s about time someone told them what’s up. I’ve still got a few months left of living there so fuck if I could.”
Thinking about who we were as kids, life wasn't fair to Sam either. Sure, he was their only son, so Dad would jump hoops for him when he had the time. But he was never as important as Charlie. It sucked for me, but I escaped for a few years during undergrad.
How did he survive a household with my parents, Charlie, and no buffer?
“I’m sorry we were never close,” I say.
“Don’t sweat it, Elie,” Sam says. “Wasn’t your job to fix us. Shouldn’t be your job now.”
“Well, as of today, I officially quit,” I say.
He laughs and then spins me. “Good.”
It’s funny how long we’ve gone without really talking about the shit we’ve lived through or the way Mom and Dad are. I guess it’s easy to lose perspective when it feels like a competition for love and attention.
“I can’t believe you pulled this off,” Sam says.
“Can’t you? I have three notebooks in my giant mom bag,” I say.
“Fine, I believe it,” he says as he looks around the room. “Would’ve been nicer if we could’ve gone to Aruba.”
“Yeah,” I say, exhaling deeply.
“Sorry about your birthday, sis,” he says.
“It is what it is,” I say.
“Don’t say that,” Charlie’s voice appears out of nowhere.
Sam and I turn around. Charlie’s standing there awkwardly, clasping her hands tight.
“Mind if I cut in?” Charlie asks.
Sam shrugs. “Your funeral.”
I roll my eyes. “Sam, go find Jossie. I’m sure there’s something she can find for you to do.”
Completely misinterpreting things like I knew he would, he pats me on the shoulder. “Later.”
Charlie steps forward. “Uh, who leads?”
I roll my eyes. “Come here, I will.”
We dance slowly. It’s kind of awkward considering the day we’ve had.
“Happy Birthday,” Charlie says.
“Uh huh,” I say.
“Elie, listen—” She cuts herself off.
“I’m listening,” I say.
“This is the part where I’d normally be shouting at someone,” she says.
I nod. “You should talk to a professional, not me, about why you do that.”
She blushes. “You’re probably right.”
“I know,” I say, keeping shit light. “So, what do you want?”
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m sorry I shoved the wedding on you. I’m sorry I was fucking bridezilla every step of the way. And for a long time before it. This pregnancy—”
“Don’t blame your kid for shit that’s not their fault,” I say. “Learn from Mom and Dad’s mistakes and hold yourself accountable like an adult.”
She sighs. “I’ve been a bitch. I’ve been a bitch for a really long time. And before I was a bitch, I was a fucking mess—”
“Yeah, but you tried when you were a mess,” I argue as we keep dancing.
“And you weren’t a mess. You were just a kid who needed special accommodations in school that you never got.
And like, not having that support means you learned to cope with hard shit and your emotions through maladaptive habits like binge drinking and running away at the first sign of trouble. ”
“Where’s the ‘but,’” she says.
I groan, spinning her. “But you’re almost in your thirties, you can’t hold down a fucking job, and you have a kid who deserves goddamn better. Pull it together, stop dicking around.”
She nods. “Thanks, I needed to hear that.”
I don’t answer.
“Is there some way I can make this up to you?”
I take a deep breath. As much as I’d love for Charlie to go back in time, not ruin her college career, and work on herself so my parents would get off my neck—there’s no changing the past. What’s done is done.
The best she can do for anyone is to be better for herself and then worry about fixing shit with other people.
“I don’t want you to try to make up for Mom and Dad’s mistakes,” I say. “I spent so many years doing that. It doesn’t go anywhere, and I think I wound up resenting myself for trying.
“What you can do is go to therapy. Work on yourself because you wanna grow in some aspect. Do it for you and your kid, no one else.”
“And then what?” Charlie asks.
“And then come visit me some time,” I say. “I don’t like the person who rushed a last-minute wedding. But I do miss my sister. She was pretty amazing if I remember correctly.”
Charlie hugs me tightly. I feel something wet fall onto my shoulder.
“With all due respect, you’re wrong, Eileen,” She says. “Because you’ve clearly never met my sister. She’s the most amazing person in the world.”
Something wet slides down my face.
“Happy Birthday, sis,” Charlie says.
I was right. It does make everything worth it.