47. So Much Better Than Okay
SO MUCH BETTER THAN OKAY
PRESENT
Though Lucas doesn’t seem angry, we’re on our way to change for the reception when he tells me, “I have a work emergency I’m going to have to fly back for.”
I swallow any disappointment over the idea of one last night together, but I can’t quite look at him as I nod.
“Can we meet . . . Tuesday?”
I nod again, not trusting myself to speak.
This, at least, will give me the rest of the weekend to think things through, something I’ve done shockingly little of since the wedding began.
He gives me a peck on the cheek, but then, after having walked an entire two steps away, he comes back and gives me a far more thorough, steals-my-breath kiss.
“I have to run or I’ll miss my plane,” he says with a groan.
It’s much later, after everyone has showered and changed into their partying clothes—which for Team Vi, still includes a fair number of packed-for-reception gowns—that Brody speaks to me.
He’s propped by one of the dessert tables, watching instead of participating in the main action. “Did Lucas tell you why he left?” I ask.
Brody raises his eyebrow at me. He looks calmer than he has in days. The party around us rages on, the DJ doing an admirable job at keeping everyone on the dance floor.
“I don’t speak to traitors.”
I try not to laugh because he doesn’t seem actively angry . . . but also, he doesn’t seem not-annoyed either. “How long are you going to be angry-not-angry at me?”
“How long before you buy me a fifteen-day Bali adventure retailing approximately 31K per person, not counting airfare?”
I make a choking noise. “That’s more than my after-tax annual income, Brody.” I put a hand on his shoulder. “You might be angry at me for a long time.”
Brody shrugs, bringing his gaze back to the dancers, resting for a moment on his almost-wife. “Honestly? Bali’s hottest months are April and May. I probably would have sweated like a stuck pig. Let Vi enjoy her outdoor sauna.”
“Do stuck pigs sweat more?”
Brody laughs, staring briefly down at his brandy.
“And I can’t believe you’re making me donate to a cat sanctuary. That’s going to get me no votes. It might lose me votes. Brody Huntington-Branca, the man who cares more about cats than humans.”
Technically, because four people survived, we were supposed to keep fighting, but everyone had felt more or less done.
And . . . in a twist I didn’t see coming, because Team Vi was, by then, solidly my stans, they agreed to donate their proceeds to my nonprofit of choice, meaning the Lāna?i Cat Sanctuary will be waking up Monday to a $10,000 donation and Pasadena City College will get the other $5,000.
Do community college students deserve the money more than cats?
There’s an argument to be made there.
But I’m too happy to fixate on such details.
“Thank you,” I whisper, knowing I’m forgiven, knowing it’s possible, given this is Brody, he was never mad to begin with. I lean forward to give him a brief hug.
He pats me on the back. “Just don’t expect to call me next time your spleen explodes. You’re grounded from emergency calling privileges for at least . . . a day. Maybe seventy-two hours.”
“So basically I’m ungrounded as soon as I leave Hawaii.”
Brody lifts his shoulders up again. “I’m too lazy to hold a grudge—and lucky for me, so are you?” He reaches over and takes a mini tiramisu.
“What do you mean?”
Brody turns toward me. “The note I gave Lucas?”
It’s been three days since that happened, but as the Chinese saying goes, every day here feels . . . like a year.
“Did it break the NDA?”
Brody’s smile is slow and broad. It’s the same smile he always had when he was solving a particularly difficult problem and found the solution an instant before anyone else. It’s what Lucas calls his shit-eating grin.
“Wow.” He drags the word out, still with his trademark shit-eating grin. “Lucas didn’t show you the note.”
“Why would he show me the note?” I don’t say: Why would he need to? I don’t need Brody’s notes from our call.
I was there.
I made the call.
I saw it in Lucas’s wallet the night I pilfered (with permission) his credit card, but . . .
From the dance floor, Vi is using both of her arms to gesture Brody toward her.
“Thank you, Red.” Brody’s voice is quiet, his eyes already on Vi.
“You’re sure you’re okay with how this all ended?”
“Better than okay.” He finally turns toward me. The smile he gives me seems torn from him, something between a huff and a laugh. “Really and truly, so much better than okay.”
DJ XR announces, “And now, for the unwedding dance you’ve all been waiting for. Turns out the not-future Mr. and Mrs. Branca have taken lessons and are now ready to put on a show.”
Amidst the hooting and cheers, Brody turns toward me. “Go ask Lucas about the note.”
And then he goes to the stage and stands approximately ten feet away as the well-known strands of “The Time of My Life” come on; Brody positions himself to do the Dirty Dancing catch.
It goes perfectly.
It’s somehow both romantic and not.
The best unwedding I’ve ever witnessed: Two adults recognizing that they might be compatible, but . . . sometimes, that’s just not enough.
UNKNOWN: So am I still saved as UNKNOWN?
ME: who is this again?
UNKNOWN: I looked it up, by the way. It should say “Unknown,” “Unknown Caller,” or “No Caller ID.” For me to be saved as UNKNOWN, you went out of your way to capitalize it.
ME: don’t you have something better to do?
UNKNOWN: Not really.
UNKNOWN: I love how ridiculous you are.
Grad or Die
DAISY: I am insanely jealous of this unwedding.
GWENDY: I’m more jealous of Lucas. “I love how ridiculous you are”? That’s like the dream, right there.
DAISY: *shrugs*
DAISY: With Lars, your dream is kind of my reality.
GWENDY: Ouch.
DAISY: Sorry, but you saw that the unwedding had paintball, right?
ME: Wait, didn’t you like twist your ankle at paintball?
DAISY: It was laser tag. And it led me to Lars, kind of.
GWENDY: Just have paintball for your wedding.
DAISY: I can’t copy Lorelai’s friend’s unwedding.
At this point, the message thread devolves into them each sending pictures, giving me the perfect opportunity to share some of Vi’s (and her entourage’s) best clips with the Grad or Die girls, Leno and Levi, and of course, Aurora, who’s also now jealous she didn’t come.
There are a variety of lower-level news sites that ran stories on the unwedding.
There are photos of Brody and Vi slow dancing, as well as ones of them at the rehearsal dinner.
There’s a hilarious one of Brody with purple paint in his hair and on his tuxedo and on his beard.
(Given the masks, the last part almost has to be staged, but who really cares . . . right?)
A few minutes later, Gwendy shares a photo I hadn’t yet seen, from the end of the paintball competition.
In it, Lucas is giving me the side-eye. Given the setting, it must be right when Brody declared he was Team Lorass, and though my attention is focused on Brody, Lucas’s face is 100 percent on me, and he looks loving and proud.
His lopsided smile is broad and transformative, a true thing of beauty.