“Thanks, Wanda. Will do.”
I leave, certain that I’m setting myself on the right path.
Chapter Forty-Two
After the ceremony, which is even more beautiful the second time somehow, I don’t indulge in a cocktail out on the balcony. I don’t banter with Drew about line dances and kiss him with my whole heart, body, and soul.
Instead, I make my way down that familiar corridor and into the tiny room where I saw Doop employees stuffing wedding favors the first time around. I’m prepared to rid this party of miracle creams, mind-reading glasses, and time-traveling crystals by any means necessary.
Except, when I barge in, no one is here. All the favors have already been packed up. Every bag is the same color—white—and when I peek inside the nearest one, all I find are concealers, hairbrushes, and decorative clocks.
The same in the next, and the next, and the next.
Nothing concretely magic remains.
Was it all in my head?
Clive’s call comes in at almost the exact same minute as last time, even though I’ve already altered the outcome of tonight.
“You in or you out?” Clive asks as I stand in the housekeeping closet in the Flamhaff Hotel once again.
“I’m sorry, but I’m out,” I say confidently, and then reconsider the first part. “On second thought, I’m not sorry. My sister’s wedding is today, and I know you’re going out on a limb for me, but I’ve got to put my family first. I hope you understand.”
I can almost hear Clive nod. “I respect that, man. Send my blessings to the happy couple.”
“Will do. Thanks.”
I hang up relieved.
Back out in the event space, I take a cleansing breath and take it all in, the faces of those who love CeeCee and my family joined together to celebrate. Why I had to be such a curmudgeon about the whole thing the first time around is beyond me. This is my do-over, though I guess it’s more of a redo. Because too much has changed already.
As dinner is served, I sneak over to where Mom and Dad are sitting with James’s parents.
“How’s it going over here?” I ask like some sort of hired party-starter. Mom and Dad look up from their salmon with smiles. Seeing Dad coherent and happy again is a lot for me, but I rein in the emotions. While I know there’s no way to reverse the disease that’s eventually going to take him from us, I can soak in as much now-time as possible. I won’t let another second slip away from me, much less seven years.
“Good, just enjoying our meals,” Mom says, dabbing her mouth with her napkin. “Everything okay, sweetheart?”
“Of course. Just wanted to say hello,” I say. “And that I’ve been thinking, and I’d really like us to start up our family brunches again.”
“Thought you said you were too busy,” Dad grumbles.
I shake my head. “I’m going to talk to Wanda. I might be eligiblefor a promotion, so I’ll see if I can have my work schedule sorted out around it.” I don’t tell them that the work excuses have mostly been lies. I’m trying for 100 percent truth in this timeline, but I think 98 percent is better in this instance. “I’d love to help out with the garden if you’re still up for making one, Mom. And, Dad, CeeCee mentioned you just got a new model train. Maybe you could show me how to put it together like in the old days.”
He leans back in his chair. “I distinctly remember a fourteen-year-old boy telling me trains were for dweebs and refusing to step foot in the model shed.”
I shrug, embarrassed by my past self. “Yeah, well, maybe I’m a dweeb now.”
At that, he laughs a raucous laugh that I store in my memory banks for safekeeping. I should start recording what he says on my phone so that when his memory goes and his motor functions cease, I’ll always carry a piece of him with me. Memories can falter, but recordings can stay. I learned that the hard way when I had to sit down and watch all of those insulting stand-up routines I did aimed at Drew and my family.
I won’t make those same mistakes again.
“All right then. But you’re making the waffles,” Dad says.
“I’d be glad to,” I say with a tiny regal bow.
Mom seems charmed. “We’ll start up again when CeeCee gets back from her honeymoon.”
“No.” I shake my head, impatient. “Let’s start next Sunday. She can join us again when she’s ready.”
