17. CHAPTER 17
Jeremy
Gavin’s house is nestled close to Pleasant View Trail, so we hit it early. As we jog, I breathe in the freshness as opposed to San Francisco’s urban rush. Remnants of snow linger on the distant mountains, inviting me to ski soon. But here, the scent of pine and damp earth signals spring in full swing.
Gavin, keeping pace beside me, talks about his honeymoon plans. “Hope wanted to go to Niagara Falls, and I’m looking forward to it.” His steady voice sends humid puffs into the cool morning air. Despite our vigorous pace, the calmness about him surprises me, given the upheaval he experienced nearly two years ago when he was left standing at the altar.
“So, how are you feeling about the wedding?” I speak not only as the best man but also as his brother concerned for his well-being.
Gavin pauses, then stretches, and a muscle pops in his shoulder.
“I was nervous a month ago. I overlooked so many red flags with Lucky, but Hope hasn’t given me any reason to doubt her love for me.”
A critter darts across the trail too fast for me to discern if it was a squirrel or a gopher.
“These last two weeks, I’ve had peace about it. Hope and I are starting our marriage with God being our foundation. That’s a big deal. She suggested we approach the ceremony differently to ease my nerves.”
He continues, reflecting on the challenges of their families’ acceptance and their journey together. “Hope’s been incredible throughout, even with her family’s hesitance. Her dad couldn’t make the trip due to health reasons, and Mom… Well, she’s coming around.”
I hardly believe him, but I won’t voice my doubts.
He resumes a slow jog, and I fall in step.
Colorado’s serene beauty surrounds us, our shoes pummeling wet leaves from last fall. The aspens stand tall and leafless, but in two months, they’ll be flourishing and blending in with the evergreens.
The trail curves, and we slow to navigate the bend. The morning sun peeks through the canopy, dappling the ground with patches of light.
“What about you?” Gavin veers into my personal territory. “You seemed at ease with Zuri last night.”
“She’s… easy to be around.” I speak between breaths. “We respect each other, and she values my opinions.” The memory of her trusting me to choose the café furniture warms me anew, even as my feet pound the winding trail. “We laugh at each other’s jokes.”
“But is there more? Beyond the arrangement?” Gavin digs deeper, his question slicing through the morning’s tranquility.
“It’s complicated.” Because of my back and forth. But it shouldn’t be. Zuri is nothing like Sonya. “There might be something more.”
“I’d say don’t wait too long.” He jogs past me when the trail’s muddy edges make us run single-file. “Getting right back at it helps you not get too comfortable in your single life. Emotions have a way of sneaking up on you when you least expect it.”
I’m well past “getting right back at it” —Sonya left me four years ago. Yet, there’s Gavin, not only way ahead of me on the trail but also blazing a trail in this thing called love. His advice, born from experience, resonates deeply. I’ve seen him navigate his share of emotional turmoil. Now, his journey to finding happiness with Hope is a testimony to the unexpected paths the heart can take.
If only he knew my emotional turmoil since Zuri came into my life! I’ve enjoyed having her in my life more than I’d expected. As we navigate the trail’s curves, Gavin’s advice not to wait too long echoes in my mind. I don’t want to go back to my life without Zuri in it.
We continue our run, the conversation shifting to lighter topics, the early morning exertion a backdrop to our brotherly bond. Birds chirp overhead while our footsteps rhythmically pound the earth beneath us. Both create a meditative soundtrack to the quiet morning.
Near the end of our trail, the physical exertion rejuvenates me, as does the clarity of mind that comes after a workout. Then Gavin slows, signaling the end of our run, and we come to a stop, our breaths heavy, the cool air a contrast to the warmth emanating from my body. We stretch in silence, a necessary conclusion to each run, yet my mind is far from silent. It’s still grappling with my burgeoning feelings.
“We’d better not let our ladies wait too long for their breakfast.” Gavin grins.
“They’re probably still asleep.” That is if Zuri slept well in an unfamiliar place. “I was thinking of taking Zee to the arcade today if you and Hope want to join us.”
I then nod to the first people we’ve encountered on the trail.
“Hope and I planned to spend the day with you, so yeah, let’s show Zuri our old stomping grounds.”
I chuckle, grateful to have this time with my brother and his help in making Zuri’s stay as enjoyable as possible. I can’t guarantee what awaits us during our dinners in my childhood home though. That’s why I flew in a day earlier than Mom expects so we could settle in before I thrust Zuri into Mom’s orbit.
***
Daylight blends into darkness as we pull into the driveway of my childhood home nestled in the mountains. After a day spent showing Zuri our quaint town and revisiting our favorite spots, we feel rejuvenated, and ready for the family gathering.
“You grew up here?” Zuri whispers, nudging my arm.
I sort of understand why she’s gawking. “That’s right… my neck of the woods.” A spacious three-story home with a full basement for just four people is way too much space.
“Wow. It’s… lovely.”
“Thanks.”
We walk up the path and a florist’s van is parked among the many cars scattered beyond the driveway on the pavement that expands into the front yard. I hadn’t realized relatives were arriving four full days before the wedding.
“Seems some family members arrived earlier than expected.” Gavin leads the way with Hope by his side. Zuri and I follow, absorbing the sights—the expansive yard and stately mansion backed by sprawling land. Unseen around back, there’s a pool, hot tub, and spaces filled with memories, including Gavin’s almost-wedding disaster two summers ago.
As he pushes the door open, noise and laughter spill out, welcoming us back into the fold. Aunt Patty, clad in her signature brown suit, strides toward us, her brown eyes widening. More gray streaks through her auburn hair than I remember. She beams and opens her arms wide for an embrace. “Oh my! Look at you boys.”
Her warmth envelops us as we step into the hallway, the air fragrant with the fresh flowers from the vast bouquet on the cabinet.
“Aunt Patty.” Gavin wraps her in a hug before I take my turn while complimenting her timeless appearance. I love her simple soap scent, so different from Mom’s preference for luxurious perfumes.
“You both have beautiful ladies at your side.” She steps back, taking in Hope and Zuri, and her familiar kindness warms my heart. I introduce Zuri as my fiancée, and Aunt Patty’s embrace is as welcoming as her smile. Gavin presents Hope, his bride-to-be, and Aunt Patty cups Hope’s cheeks, her welcome starkly different from Mom’s often-reserved greetings.
Then she wags a finger between Gavin and me. “I’m not happy that you boys haven’t visited me in so long.” She turns to Hope and Zuri, grasping each of their hands, and urges them to coax us into visiting her in Oklahoma. “There’s more than enough room, y’all know. And we ladies can have fun while the boys enjoy the property and get on their fishing adventures.” Laughing, she lets go of them. “Boys, did your mom tell you your uncle built another house for his ‘collection’?”
The click of heels echoes through the hallway, prompting us all to turn. Mom, the epitome of grace and poise, approaches and now commands the space. “Are you guys coming in?”
Aunt Patty rubs my back. “I figured if I didn’t keep the boys here, you may never give us the chance to catch up.”
“Don’t tell me you’re still convincing them to come to your farm.” Mom waves her black-painted nails toward her sister, Aunt Patty.
“I like her farm.” I lean in to peck Mom on the cheek.
“We’re planning a visit next summer.” Gavin embraces Mom.
Aunt Patty leaves and promises to be back from her car in a few minutes.
“Hope.” Mom nods toward Gavin’s fiancée, her smile not quite reaching her eyes—a frostiness veiled in politeness.
“Nice to see you again, Sara.” Hope gives a little wave, her half smile underscoring the unresolved distances between them. I admire her resilience in agreeing to let my mother orchestrate the prewedding events, despite Gavin protesting that she didn’t need to honor Mom’s wishes.
But now, the spotlight’s on me, and in this moment, Zuri and I must maintain our act. I draw her closer and kiss the top of her curly hair. “Zee, remember my mom, Sara. Mom, Zuri.”
“Your fiancée?” Mom’s eyebrows arch as she takes in Zuri. “I assumed you two would’ve ended things before the wedding.”
Zuri’s soft hand squeezes mine, and I square my shoulders, meeting Mom’s skepticism with a seriousness I hope masks the hot fury blazing within. “What gave you that idea?”
Unfazed, Mom scans Zuri’s left hand. “I see you’re wearing your ring today. After your little fight, ghosting or whatever it was, I figured—”
“It’s called a couple’s fight, Mom.” I grit my teeth. “I’m sure you and Dad get those sometimes?”
Clearly not, because Dad just puts up with whatever Mom directs.
She dismisses the tension, her focus shifting to the evening ahead. “It’s going to be a marvelous night.” With a flick of those black nails, she ushers us to follow her. “Morgan has dinner ready.”
Right. Her ability to glide over family discord is a practiced art.
When we emerge into the main room, several of our family and friends are standing around, others are seated, and most are holding glasses containing amber or red liquid. Their chatter rises, combining with Mom’s harping on the florist to move the flowers away from the space designed for the wedding cake.
“All right, everyone.” Her voice pierces through the vast room. “The boys are here.”
“Welcome!”
“Woo-hoo!” voices resound from the crowd.
My father stands from where he’s sitting with four gentlemen, all dressed in formal suits. His smile meets his eyes, and I grieve for him. He’s always willing to put up with Mom’s antics.
Then my brother whispers, “Ho boy. There’s Sonya.”
Heels click on the smooth floor, and a familiar figure emerges from the library. She’s dressed in a snug cocktail dress, certainly for show, revealing more than it should. My emotions go into a freefall. My hand slides from Zuri’s back to her side in a futile attempt to shield my heart.
Catching my mother’s eye, I see a flicker of understanding or perhaps a challenge.
“It’s been so long since you’ve seen family friends. What better occasion for a reunion than a wedding?”
With that, she’s dismissed my discomfort, having orchestrated this moment for her own reasons. How can she not see Sonya was a bad investment that squandered years of my life and left me emotionally bankrupt?