Chapter Thirty-Four
Standing to address the crowd, time slowed. Instead of reading from the speech I’d worked on, I folded the paper and held it in my sweaty hand. This time, I was going off script, feeling a bit more ready to speak from the heart.
“Hi again, everyone. As you know, I’m Elliot, Sonja’s daughter, and I wanted to start by thanking you all for coming to celebrate the marriage of Mr. and Mrs. Banner.
I wasn’t totally sure what I wanted to say today after my colorful toast last night.
I’d considered sharing a handful of quotes about love and maybe a few funny anecdotes.
” Glancing over at Mom, at Dad, and at Matty, their smiling and supportive faces, I breathed out, “But now, I’ve decided to go in a completely different direction.
“It’s a bit hard to explain, but all I know is that this week, I think I’ve finally come to understand what real love looks like.
It’s not grand gestures or sunset walks on the beach.
It’s someone showing up when they don’t have to.
Holding your hand when you’re at your worst. Calling you out when you’re hiding.
It’s the quiet kind of love. Steady, present, and brave.
I realized I’ve spent so much of my life afraid of all the ways love can hurt us, can scar us, can change us, that the thought of jumping in with both feet seemed like the craziest idea in the world.
But I’ve learned through some very hard lessons that love, the right kind, doesn’t ask you to be perfect.
It just asks you to have the courage to open your heart and try.
“So today, I’m not just toasting my mom and her new husband.
I’m toasting the woman who refused to stop believing in love, even when at times it seemed to break her.
I’m toasting to her optimism, her bravery, and her willingness to leap, even without a net.
Love is about having faith. Even when it’s hard.
Even when it hurts. Actually, especially then.
She’s taught me that letting people in—I mean really in—isn’t weakness.
It’s actually the hardest, strongest thing a person can do. ”
I didn’t realize I was crying until a falling tear hit my forearm. Wiping my cheek, I glanced at Mom and Keith and gave her a wink. She was beaming, her head rested on his shoulder, and he kissed her forehead almost to punctuate my point.
I raised my glass high and looked out into the crowd. All the faces lit with genuine happiness and excitement for the new couple made my heart swell, and an actual lump formed so solidly in my throat that I found the next words almost impossible to get out.
“So everyone please help me in celebrating Mr. and Mrs. Sonja and Keith Banner, to the couple who proves it’s never too late for a new beginning. May the best parts still be yet to come.”
As the final words of my toast settled over the crowd, applause broke out, and I caught a glimpse of Mom with tears in her eyes and a wide, beautiful smile on her face.
Keith leaned over and kissed her gently as the band fired up a gentle ballad, the kind meant for slow-dancing under string lights and open skies.
I stepped down from the small platform, exhaling as if I’d been holding my breath for weeks.
Then I heard a voice behind me. “May I have this dance?”
I turned my head. Dad stood there, hand extended, eyes steady but softer than I remembered them ever being.
I hesitated, caught off guard by the gesture, but then I slipped my hand into his, and he led me onto the sand-smoothed dance floor.
We swayed together to the music for a few moments, the beat of the steel drums wrapping around us like the tropical evening air.
I wasn’t used to this kind of closeness with him, this dance with the man who’d once left a silence so deep I’d mistaken it for indifference.
But here he was, offering something I’d stopped expecting: presence.
I let my head fall lightly to his shoulder, not because we were suddenly fixed or because everything had been forgiven.
But because for this one moment, we were both still here. Trying. And for now, that was enough.
The rest of the wedding reception passed in a dazzling haze of conga lines, carefree dancing to reggae-spun pop songs, and the clink of tropical drinks.
I took silly family selfies with Keith, Shira, Allegra, and Cannon, watched as Mom and Dad led a rousing rendition of the YMCA, took one too many Banana Hammock shots with Marin, and Matty twirled me around the dance floor like we were seventeen again.
We kept the party going until the sun crept up over Ambergris Caye.
The guests peeled off one by one, half dancing, half dragging themselves for a little shut-eye before checkout.
I made it back to my own villa, feet throbbing, headache blooming .
. . But my heart, though fuller than I ever remember it being, was still missing a pretty big piece.
Leo.
What we could be, what we almost were. And now that I’d glimpsed it, the thought of letting it go felt impossible. But it was time to leave Belize behind, and with it, the version of me who didn’t believe she deserved a life full of love.
After grabbing the last of my bikinis drying out on the lanai, I adjusted the strap of my bag on my shoulder, took one last look at the empty villa. I wasn’t leaving with souvenirs or shells or trinkets. I was leaving with something better.
Less weight, less fear, and just enough hope to carry me home.