He stares at me for a long moment.
“I’ll pay her back for the flowers. And I’ll pay Esme back for the cake.” How, I don’t know. Somehow. I will. I have to. No matter how many extra dog walks I have to sign up for. I couldn’t live with myself ifI knew this was a farce and let them pay for it anyway. “Also, we should probably talk about how we’re going to break up since it’s going to have to happen in the next week.”
“As friends,” he says without hesitation, “who realized the spark isn’t there for a romantic relationship the way it should be, but who have no regrets about trying to make it work.”
The fact that he doesn’t have to pause to think about it hurts my heart.
Just a little.
Like the barest amount.
I can hardly feel it anymore.
Chili lifts his head from his spot on another folded quilt on the floor beside the couch, and he snorts at me.
Did the dog just call me a liar?
I shake my head and look back at Dane. “That’s brilliant. So long as we’re friends, they’ll have to stay friends too.”
“Or at least something closer.”
“We need to tell everyone we want a simple wedding. I don’t want everyone going to extreme lengths and spending a lot of money, but they need to believe we’re getting married.”
“Amanda . . .”
“What?”
“When someone from my family is engaged to someone from your family, there will be no stopping our families from trying to one-up each other in planning this wedding, and I don’t think anyone in town will discourage it.” He holds his phone up to show me a text from Esme.
Pia is so excited that you two are uniting our families that she wants to make the biggest, best wedding cake that Tinsel has ever seen. She’s expecting you Friday morning to pick flavors. This is the best news ever.
Wow. Guilt grows faster than my favorite hot dog vendor can serve up a half dozen sauerkraut-and-mustard dogs. And he’s working on breaking a world record.
“But it’ll be worth it if our families call a truce,” he adds. “Even better if they actually start to realize they might like and appreciate each other the way they like and appreciate everyone else in town.”
Chili grunts. I’m guessing that’s agreement.
I sink into the chair next to the couch, remember belatedly that it has a broken spring that likes to poke people in the butt—I should definitely warn him about that spot—and slide to the floor by the dog instead. “Do you honestly think this will work?”
Dane’s gaze settles on mine. “What are we out if it doesn’t?”
I stroke his dog’s soft fur and contemplate the question. “My place in my family,” I whisper.
Chili whimpers and shuffles so he can lay his head on my thigh.
Sweet dog. I like him.
Dane shifts onto the couch. “If your family can’t accept the life you want to live for yourself, then they don’t deserve you. And I’d say that no matter how you want to live your life and no matter who your family is.”
“They’refamily.”
“Being family doesn’t give anyone a free pass to dismiss your goals or to treat you like you’re not capable of deciding how to live your own life, or like they own you. Being family means respecting each other and the choices you each make. Would you ask your grandma to quit being a gingerbread baker to go live in New York with you?”
“Of course not.”
“Then they can fuck off.” He clears his throat. “And please consider that said far more politely than it came out.”
There is so much more to unpack here. “Does your family not support you living the life you want for yourself too? They sounded so proud of you tonight.”
