Only I do know.
That sketch of Starved Rock was the first time Eric Sandersonshowed up on my doorstep the same weekend my mom had a particularly bad breakup—and was therefore pretty hammered. With a wink and a nod of that shiny, bald head of his, he whisked me away to my first camping trip.
We ate sticky marshmallows, sang absurd songs around the campfire to Heidi’s mediocre guitar skills, and fell asleep with stars twinkling outside our tent.
It was pure magic.
The escape I never knew I needed.
After that trip, others followed, somehow always coinciding with my mom’s meltdowns. Then came the impromptu barbecues, Thanksgivings, and too many sleepovers to count.
Even though the Sandersons were my saviors, I never could shake the feeling that something was wrong with me. Maybe if I were somebody else, more like Tuck maybe, my anonymous dad would have stuck around long enough to take me on our own camping trip.
And maybe then Mom wouldn’t be so sad all the time.
“Oooh. What’s this?” Julia digs elbow-deep inside the box, then pulls out a shiny arcade token.
At the sight of that little coin, my already aching heart becomes a hot air balloon. It swells in my chest, filled with fire, but forever hollow. No matter how much the meager flame tries to fill the entirety of the aching expanse, it never will.
It never could.
Even though I trust Tuck and Julia with my life, I don’t have the bandwidth to explain the significance of that little token. Or that air-hockey game with Kate. Or my last night I spent with her.
I scrub a hand over my face, blocking out the world.
I wish I had known it would be our last. I would’ve held her tighter, kissed her longer, I don’t know—done anything I could to prevent the onslaught of the next day.
So I swallow, I shrug, and I lie.
“I have no idea.”
twenty-two
PRESENT DAY
KATE
“Oh,honey.” Susan glows with maternal pride as she takes in her daughter. She claps two hands to her wrinkled cheeks, blue eyes glistening with moisture. “That’s the one.”
“You think?” Amantha lifts two fistfuls of white satin as she carefully makes her way from the bridal dressing room to the mirrored pedestal in the middle of the room. “I’ve tried on so many I think I’m going wedding dress blind.”
I’m sandwiched on a velvet bench between Susan and Amantha’s soon-to-be sister-in-law, Camilla. Susan has equally gushed over each of the last thirteen wedding dresses, and Camilla looks so enraptured by the whole affair that she can’t stop leaking happy tears.
“Kate. I need your help.” Amantha chews her lip in the tri-fold mirror, her gray eyes meeting mine through the glass. Her hair is swept into a sloppy mom bun that couldn’t be more on brand for her, but she’s glowing.
The dress is stunning, albeit too modest and simple for my taste. It’s all clean lines and modern chic on her curvy frame. Solid panels of white satin climb the boning of the corset, ending in a strapless neckline with the barest whisper of cleavage. Much like the dress I convinced her to wear to Stirling’s soiree last year, limp satin sleevesdrape across her upper arms, as the full satin ball gown puffs out at the waist. The same shining fabric trails a few feet behind her.
Beautiful, classic, and simple. My best friend in a nutshell.
Worry lines her expression as she waits for my assessment. Maybe it’s because she’s an only child with no sisters, but she’s always taken my fashion advice as law.
But this time, I wantherto choose. She’s come so far from the unsure woman I first met, and this moment feels monumental.
“What doyouthink?” I ask.
She huffs out a breath. “Kaaaate! You can’t do that to me!” Stomping a few times within the confines of her skirt, Amantha points at me through the mirror. “I was dumb enough to plan a wedding in less than five months, so I don’t have time for a custom dress. You need to help me make this decision!”
I laugh, but I stand in my long sleeve fuchsia wrap-around dress. It’s casual enough to be worn as a day dress, fluttering past the knees of my black tights but stops a good six inches above my pointy black boots.
