Caroline laughed. “You’re overwhelmed because our life right now is overwhelming. It’s crazy. And you’re getting married. That’s a lot to take in.” She paused. “Em, don’t get mad...”
I looked at her expectantly.
“But are you sure you want to go through with this wedding? Are you sure that Mark’s the one?”
I looked out over the horizon. “It’s just hard because when I was in LA, all those guys I dated there made me feel like the me I was moving into, the future Emerson, who was living the life she had always wanted. But then Mark makes me feel like the girl I used to be. He makes me feel young and free and alive and happy.”
Caroline squinted at me. “And that’s how you want to feel?”
“Who wouldn’t want to feel like her younger self?”
A smile played on Caroline’s lips as she said, “And what about Kyle? How does Kyle make you feel?”
I rolled my eyes. My mouth said, “Kyle makes me feel like I enjoy superfood lattes.”
But my heart thought,The men in LA made me feel like my future. Mark makes me feel like my past. But Kyle? Kyle makes me feel like both.
TWENTY-SEVEN
ansley: there she is
Iwouldn’t wish a lice epidemic—and the bill that comes with it—on my worst enemy. Still, I think it might have been one of the best things to ever happen to my family. After we had all been heat-treated, combed out, coated with an extra-precautionary dose of antilice cream, our hair all up in shower caps and wrapped in towel turbans, we took our lice-free selves out of our lice-infested houses and camped out at the Peachtree Bluff Inn. I warned Tim and Mary Lou, the owners, because I sure didn’t want them having a lice problem, but they seemed excited about the entire thing, probably because they would be able to tell future guests that Emerson Murphy had stayed there—and Emerson had been asked byTown & Countryto take readers on a tour of Peachtree, and she was planning to include the inn in her recommendations. That was probably worth a possible fumigation. Having Emerson back home, and the flurry of street selfies that came along with it, made me realize how well known she was becoming.
As we all sat around the living room of the inn in our shower caps, laughing and reminiscing, I realized that we would be able to get back to this place eventually. My daughters would forgive me one day, because we were stronger than anything life could throw our way.
I looked over at Emerson, snuggled up beside Mark. They were grinning at each other, and I thought maybe this was the right decision. But we don’t ever truly know, do we? Sometimes the marriages we think were fated in the stars are annulled the next week, and the ones we think won’t last a year end up being the happiest. And I knew that no matter what, whether Emerson’s marriage soared or failed, we would make it through that together, too.
Emerson had insisted that everyone get treated, symptomatic or not. So Hippie Hal, who was doing some work for Sloane and Adam the day before was there, reminiscing right along with us.
“My first memory of you two together is when your boat battery died out past the sandbar,” he was saying, “and when I drove past and you flagged me down, you were sunburned and beer-drunk and—”
“Hey!” I interrupted. “Don’t spread rumors about my perfect Emmy. She would never have been drinking before she was twenty-one.”
Everyone laughed heartily, because Emerson had not exactly been an easy child. Her behavior was fair at best.
Hal continued, “But I knew you two were going to make it, because most couples would have been ornery and fighting with each other, but you two took it all in stride.”
“We have always been good together,” Mark said, kissing the tip of Emerson’s nose.
“Speaking of rumors...” Caroline said.
“Should Mrs. McClasky be treated for lice, too?” Sloane interjected.
I glared at them. I had specifically told them not to ask him about that.
He smiled sneakily. “Oh, I never kiss and tell.”
My girls burst out laughing.
All the kids had been asleep for hours that night when I finally insisted that everyone get some rest. I didn’t want this wonderful spell to be broken, but, because Emerson didn’t want a bridesmaid’s luncheon or a shower, my friends had insisted on throwing a party for her the next night with our fifty favorite friends. And before that, James was throwing a birthday brunch for Caroline.
I didn’t want anyone exhausted or hungover. And fortunately, if the signed guarantee I held from the company was to be believed, we were all lice-free now. I had never had lice to begin with, of course. But I wasn’t one to argue with a nervous bride the week before her wedding.
I barely slept at all that night, feeling as unsettled about the party that would transpire the next night as I was by the summer storm that had begun brewing after dinner and set in around midnight.
When I heard a key in my door, I wasn’t even concerned. I looked over at my clock, which read 3:11 a.m. I figured Jack couldn’t sleep, either.
But when I flipped the bedside lamp on and reached for my glasses, I realized it wasn’t Jack at all. It was Kyle.
