Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
Lauren
Who knew partying with a scooter could be this much fun?
After the ceremony I sail back down the aisle with a grin so wide it's slightly embarrassing. Damien is as much in love with Kate as she is with him. Maybe more. The officiant had barely asked him to say “I do” when he jumped in to utter the words, then he practically devoured her during the kiss.
She has zero to worry about with him. Plus they murmured what sounded like a dozen I love yous after the vows, and I wept accordingly.
It's all so incredibly sweet and pure that I almost can’t handle it.
I get a small round of applause as I scoot into the reception hall, which I accept with a gracious wave, like a queen. Max laughs and kisses my cheek when I skid to a stop in front of him.
“Maybe I have a future in dirt bike riding. Or Jet Skiing,” I tell Max, who laughs.
The scooter stays with me all evening, and I zoom around talking to people, cracking jokes, making friends with Sadie's first mate who has a parrot tattoo on his neck and fascinating opinions about tidal navigation. The pain is an ever-present throb but manageable.
Max and I are never far from each other.
His hand finds the small of my back when we're talking in groups, and I find myself leaning slightly toward him whenever he's near, like a plant adjusting toward light.
He secures me a stool for my foot while we eat, produces an ice pack from somewhere, brings appetizers, brings me mocktails without being asked.
He does all of this without fanfare, as if it's simply obvious.
His toast to Damien is the funniest thing I've heard in months — a story about ten-year-old Damien attempting to teach himself to ride a motorcycle, and the lasting damage to the family's begonia beds.
And then, quietly, at the end: “He is the most honorable man I know.
He always has been. And Kate, you've got the best of us.”
That's when I start weeping again and have to retrieve his handkerchief from my satchel.
When it's my turn I stand — well, lean on my scooter — and raise my glass.
“I can't top Max's storytelling,” I say. “All I know is that Kate is the hardest working, most lovable, most stubborn, most magical person I've ever met, and Damien is marrying an actual angel.” I pause. “Be worthy of her.”
There's a moment of silence and then applause, and Damien nods at me with real solemnity, like he’s making a blood oath.
The DJ starts playing. Kate and Damien sway through “At Last” while the rest of us watch, undone.
Of course I can't dance. Max fixes this. During a slow song he simply lifts me off the ground and turns us in a slow circle, my feet dangling, my arms around his neck. And then he kisses me — right there on the middle of the dance floor, in front of everyone, unhurried and completely unashamed.
There's a smattering of applause from somewhere.
“You don't mind everyone seeing that?” I ask, breathless.
He looks faintly baffled. “Why would I?”
“I'm not used to men who want to show me off in real life rather than on social media.”
“I'd rather have the real thing than a photo of it.” He adjusts his hold on me. “Strange concept, I know.”
My stomach flips, and flips again.
Later, as the evening mellows and some guests begin to filter out, Max turns to me. We’re both sitting out the Macarena, but a hardy group is going strong on the dance floor.
“How are you holding up?” he says quietly.
“Honestly?” I pause. “I'm completely done with most people. Even people I like.”
“Even me?” His grin is lopsided and foxy.
I shake my head. “Shockingly, not you. But it’s been a lot of people tonight. I honestly didn’t think the entire town would come.”
He stares at me for a second. “You're an introvert?”
“This surprises you?”
“A little. You're so—” he gestures vaguely at all of me.
“Good at pretending?” I offer.
“I was going to say warm. Present.” He pauses. “But yeah. I've been running on fumes since about four this morning. I need to recharge soon.”
“You're an introvert too?”
“Profoundly.” He says it with such relief I almost laugh. “I've spent fifteen years in a career that requires me to be on at all times and I've never once told anyone that I go home afterward and sit in a dark room for an hour.”
“I go silent for entire days after big trips.” I look at him. “I guess we're the same.”
“Apparently. Let’s blow this pop stand and go somewhere quiet.” The corner of his mouth lifts. “Give me ten minutes to say goodnight to my parents.”
“Give me ten minutes to say goodnight to Kate,” I say.
He nods and stands, and I watch him go find his parents. The heart-shaped stone is in his jacket pocket. I don't know how I know that. I just do.
Kate finds me before I find her. She wraps both arms around me from behind and squeezes.
“Best maid of honor in the history of maids of honor,” she says into my shoulder.
I lean back against her. “I rolled a scooter down your aisle.”
“You were perfect.” She comes around to face me and takes both my hands. Her eyes are very bright. “And I saw that kiss with Max on the dance floor.”
“Mmhmm.”
“Lauren.”
“Kate.”
“Thank you,” she says, and a tear runs down her face as she pulls me into a hug.
The DJ segues from an old rock song to Earth, Wind, and Fire’s “September,” and Ginger is the first one on the floor, her silver sandals catching the light.
Carolyn follows, laughing at something Ginger says, and then Sadie grabs Kate's hand and spins her out onto the floor like she's been waiting all night for this song.
I watch from my scooter for approximately four seconds before Natalia appears at my elbow.
“Don't even think about sitting this one out,” she says.
So I don't. So much for solitude with Max.
I roll toward the dance floor and we form a loose, laughing circle — Kate and Sadie, Ginger and Carolyn, Natalia, and me on my scooter — and we dance the way women dance when they're not performing it for anyone, arms up, completely ridiculous, completely free.
At one point Ginger takes one of my hands and we sway together while she beams at me like I'm already one of her kids.
I think I might cry again. I don't.
The song fades and the DJ's voice cuts through the room. “Alright, all the single ladies — and I do mean all of you — front and center. We've got a bouquet that needs a new home.”
There's a collective surge forward. I hesitantly follow Sadie and angle the scooter so I’m facing Kate, who is at the front. She’s laughing as she turns her back to us, bouquet in hand.
“Ready?” the DJ calls.
“No,” I mutter, to no one in particular.
“Five… four…” the DJ says, and the rest of the crowd chimes in. “Three…two…one!”
Kate tosses the bouquet, the flowers sailing over her shoulder in a perfect, unhurried curve — straight at my face. My hand goes up on pure reflex.
“Aaaaack,” I yelp, mostly because I’m worried the flowers are going to smack me in the face, and with my luck, they’ll probably somehow break my nose. I snatch them when they’re two inches away while everyone laughs.
The room erupts in a cheer.
I stare down at the white roses in my hand with an expression I can only imagine is deeply undignified.
“You caught it,” Sadie hollers from somewhere to my left.
“I was defending myself,” I say.
Kate makes a beeline to me and folds me into a hug, her eyes bright and a little wild. I hold up the bouquet.
“This does not mean a thing,” I say, brandishing the beautiful flowers in her direction.
“Did I say anything?” She bats her eyelashes, feigning innocence. She then leans in, her voice serious I have to strain to hear her because the DJ has fired up a Fleetwood Mac song, which apparently gets the locals dancing. “I need to tell you some good news.”
“Let’s move to the side,” I yell.
We shuffle away, and I have to navigate around a woman in a cowgirl hat and a white leather jumpsuit.
“Hey Sage,” Kate says to her.
They embrace, and I scoot over to a table. Kate joins me.
“What’s going on? You ok?”
“Damien talked to Chief Patterson tonight. The Cypress Grove fire chief.” She squeezes my hands. “He got out of his California contract, well, mostly. He's joining the Cypress Grove Fire Department. Full-time.” Her voice cracks on the last word. “He's coming home, Lauren. For real.”
I stare at her. “Kate.”
“He has a ninety-day notice obligation to fulfill out west first, so he still leaves next week.” Her smile wobbles. “But then he's home. Three months and he's home for good.”
I pull her into a hug, bouquet and all, and she laughs into my shoulder.
When she pulls back her eyes are wet. “Three months,” she says, like she's testing the weight of it. “I can do three months.”
“You can absolutely do three months.” I squeeze her hands. And then, privately, a thought I'm not quite ready to say out loud: Three months is exactly enough time to stay.
Max materializes at my elbow, grinning. He takes one look at my face and the bouquet and laughs harder.
“Don’t,” I start to tell him, but he kisses my mouth. Kate cackles and walks off.
“I’m not saying a word,” Max murmurs.
“You’re saying everything.”
“Ready to call it a night?”
I look around the room — Kate and Damien are now on the dance floor, Ginger and Carolyn are deep in conversation, Sadie is teaching Remy something that may or may not be a sword-fighting stance. The bouquet is still in my hand.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m ready.”
He picks me up like it’s easy, and I loop one arm around his neck and hold the bouquet with the other, and he carries me upstairs.