She nudges me gently. “You remember that Erin Hanson quote you put on my fridge when I was feeling down a few years ago? The one that inspired me to take risks, even if it was scary?”
Swallowing hard, I nod. Of course, I remember it. I’d printed another copy of it for my classroom cork board because it had inspired me.
There is freedom waiting for you, on the breezes of the sky.
And you ask, “What if I fall?” Oh, but my darling, “What if you fly?”
I must look like I’m going to cry again, because Ken straightens and takes a worried step toward me. “If you’re not interested in him, if I’m reading the situation incorrectly, we’ll just forget this conversation ever happened and I’ll make it all go away.”
My laugh is a little watery. “You’ll make it go away? It’s your fault Bex talks that way, isn’t it? You can’t just say things like that, Tanaka. And you don’t need to worry about my happiness.” I’m blinking furiously because the chill is making my eyes water. “I’m not a Finn for fuck’s sake. What you should do is take your own advice for a change. We say that all the time, don’t we, Bex?”
“I never say that.”
I narrow my eyes at her. Why is she lying so hard?
“You’re not a Finn, no,” Tanaka agrees easily. “You’re a Winston. One of a kind. And I did.”
“You did what? Wait. You did?”
Ken winks at me and puts a hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “We all deserve to be happy, Win. Our problem—yours and mine—is getting out of our own way so it can happen.”
Then he turns and walks toward the lodge, throwing over his shoulder, “Bex, you can show him, and only him, until it’s time.”
I spin around to face her, his mysterious words momentarily jolting me out of my pity party. “Show me what?”
She gives me a mischievous smile before following behind Tanaka toward the lodge. “I’ll show you as soon as we get you changed, and maybe put on some concealer before your performance. You’re covered in beard burn and Angelina Jolie would envy your lips right now.”
I chase after her. “Stop complimenting me and show me the thing. I need the distraction.”
“Are you going to stop fighting fate and make babies for Uncle Connor?”
“Rebecca, I swear to God.”
She stops and turns to me, suddenly serious. “You love him, don’t you?”
I don’t pretend she isn’t talking about Michael. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only because it looks like you tried to ruin it. Did you ruin it, Winnie?”
I sigh, thinking about his expression when I ran out of the kitchen like my ass was on fire. “I tried. I guess I’ll have to find out if I succeed or not tonight.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
My renditionof Billy Joel’s “Just the Way You Are” is a hit. Shawn and Ellen Finn dance alone while surrounded by several generations of family, very few of them dry-eyed. When the band throws a few upbeat Irish songs they played at the pub into the set, Shawn and Seamus are standing by the stage, singing along.
Bellamy requests another Joel hit, “You May Be Right,” and whips a laughing Seamus around on the dance floor before pulling him close and playfully grabbing his ass. They’re joined by Owen Finn and his husband Jeremy, Senator Stephen and his wife Natasha, and Shawn and Ellen’s only daughter Jennifer, who is splitting her time between her two very attentive partners.
After several requests, including one from Jake and another from the actual band—who’d been practicing all day yesterday without me—I sing “Pink Pony Club” and nearly bring the lodge down. Every woman in the family gets on the dance floor for that one, including the teenage Penny and my gang’s favorite ex-bartender Fiona, who is definitely pregnant again, both trying to mimic my dance moves while giggling together like best friends.
There’s so much love in the room, it’s choking me.
I haven’t seen Michael for hours, though his dessert towers were set up at the table and promptly dismantled in less than fifteen minutes after the special couple got their sample. The Finns are a shameless and ravenous horde and I hope someone saved a few for me.
I’m never left alone. Whenever the band takes a break, Bex, Val and Connor are right there, making sure I’ve eaten, handing me water and praising my performance while still teasing me mercilessly. I couldn’t have gotten through this day without them.
“You’re so good at this, you could have been a wedding singer,” Bex says with a playful grin. “Instead, you tossed it all away to teach history.”
“Clearly, I’ve wasted my life.” I watch the crowd mill around in groups, talking and hugging and chasing after the younger children. I see the bearded man I once thought Michael might be dating standing with a few of his brothers. He’s holding someone’s baby in his arms while a redheaded boy that could be in my class in a few years leans against him, obviously tired. James. That’s the man’s name. He looks a little like Brady. Better than I would have expected after the stories I’d heard.
