“I forgiveyou.”
I grab the pillow and smack her with it. “Now tell me somethingelse.”
“Okay. Ummm…Okay. You know I grew up inBoise.”
“Yes, you’ll have to tell me somethingelse.”
“And in the summers, when I was growing up, we’d go to Priest Lake. It’s so beautiful, we’d rent a cabin and go boating and fishing and swim in the lake. And one year, when I was seven, there was a wedding photo shoot on the dock. The bride and groom and bridesmaids and groomsmen were dressed really cool and hipster-ish, all matching and nice, but I could tell they hired the wrong wedding photographer because he was really uptight and kept telling them to stand a certain way like in prom photos and they were all getting annoyed and it was really bugging me because they looked like the coolest wedding party ever, so I got up, in my bright yellow one-piece bathing suit, and I held my towel around my head like a veil and I started yelling “HERE COMES THE BRIDE! HERE COMES THE BRIDE!” and I ran down the dock and jumped into the water, in front of them, and they were laughing so hard, and that’s the shot that the photographer used on his website, and it’s still up there to thisday.”
“Show meimmediately.”
She grabs her phone, giggling, types in a web address and shows me the picture of this great-looking wedding party on a dock, and pretty little insane-looking seven year old Erin Duffy mid-air, jumping into the water while they all laugh. It’s an amazing photo, and I can actually feel my heart bursting out of mychest.
I examine the background of the photo. Priest Lake does look beautiful. I look up at her, at Erin, and—miracle of miracles—she’s smiling at me. She’s smiling at me, the way she was smiling that first time that I saw her in Boston. The way I always wanted to make hersmile.
Erin Duffy owns myheart.
“You want to get married there, don’tyou?”
She blushes and tries to frown. It’s adorable. “I don’t know. Yeah. I mean, I used to. It’s not something I think aboutanymore.”
Liar. You’re thinking about it now, that’s why you brought it up.I try to imagine my family, in their formal attire, at a lake inIdaho.
Then my phone starts vibrating and I remember, even before I look at the text from my Mom. “Shit. We have to have brunch with myparents.”
“When?”
“In like an hour.Uptown.”
“At arestaurant?”
“At my parent’splace.”
“You’re telling me thisnow?”
“Sorry, I forgot. My mom invited us last week. Family thing. Sorry I couldn’t get out ofit.”
“Are you sure you want me togo?”
“I’m not going withoutyou.”
“Is there time for me toshower?”
“Yeah, if you’re fast. We’ll leave in forty-five minutes. Shit wait. We have to pack and take our stuff and go to JFK straight from my parents’place.”
She punches my bicep. “Oh my God! I can’t believe you didn’t warn me about this! What should Iwear?!”
“It’s just brunch, you can wear whatever. Wear that dress of yours that you were going to wear to thewedding.”
“Oh thanks. My go-to fancy dress is a Sunday family brunch dress in thisworld?”
“Well. Don’t ask methen.”
“Should we bringanything?”
“Emotionalarmor.”
“So your brother will bethere?”
