“You like fruitcake too?” Dane says.
Dane.
Who’s supposed tonot inflame the situation.
Mom’s ears go bright red. “I ... may have enjoyed a piece or two in my time. When I found leftovers in Amanda’s lunch box.”
I squeak. “Impossible. I always threw it away. Always.”
“Not always,” Mom says. “Those birthday parties in elementary school would get you every time. You’d forget someone brought cupcakes or doughnuts or cookies, and your afternoon fruitcake snack would end up at our house.”
“Lorelei was my best friend,” I blurt.
Both Mom and Mr. Silver cringe.
“I know.” Mom sighs.
Mr. Silver nods. “I did too.”
“And you know what?” I add. “Itsucked. I never got to hang out with her after school. Whenever one of you would chaperone a field trip, I couldn’t be in her group. I couldn’t go cheer her on at her softball games, and she never felt like she could get me flowers after a play.”
My eyes are getting hot and my chest is getting heavy.
Dane slips an arm around me and squeezes. “I’m good with you being best friends with Lorelei.”
Best. Fake. Fiancé. Ever.
I lean into him and squeeze my eyes shut while I stuff down the emotions. “Thank you.”
He kisses my hair. “Of course.”
This.
This is the kind of relationship I could have.
“I’m sorry, Amanda,” Mom says quietly. “I’m so sorry.”
“I am too,” Mr. Silver says.
“So end it,” Dane says. “Quit. Fucking. Fighting. Be better. Do better. For the whole damn town.”
Mom’s eyes are going shiny too. She blinks quickly. “I will.”
Mr. Silver claps a hand to Dane’s shoulders. “I’m so proud of you, son.”
Dane stiffens, and he barely relaxes when his dad adds, “You’re doing what none of the rest of us have ever had the courage to do.”
That’s odd.
That’sveryodd.
I shoot a look at Pia.
“Cake!” she says like things are getting too emotional in here for her. “More cake. Our next selection is a chocolate fudge cake with a homemade marmalade filling and a cinnamon frosting.”
Cake.
Wedding cake.
