“And those times have nothing to do with the fact that you think Danger’s a babe?” Georgia asked.
“Zero.” Ginny rolled her eyes and busied her mouth with bites of barbeque and corn dog. Those visits to hang with Danger had far more to do with the possibility of seeinghisnewestfriend, the aforementioned PE teacher, and nothing to do with any interest in Danger himself. He was completely aware of Ginny’s romantic situation, or lack thereof, and also completely hung up on a girl he’d known his entire life, who apparently didn’t see him romantically. Something Ginny could understand all too well.
Both her sisters pouted their disappointment. But Caroline, never one to let things go, took the last bite of their shared appetizer and said, “Can you at least admit he’s easy on the eyes?”
“Can you admit your objectification of my very good friend is creepy and at least a little inappropriate?”
Caroline looked at Georgia who shook her head. Caroline nodded and hummed her silent agreement.
“Never,” she replied, hopping down from the counter and grabbing Ginny and Georgia by their arms. “Now, come on. We’ve gotta have a snuggle before I go home to the boys.”
Georgia and Ginny followed, falling side by side onto Ginny’s mattress and staring at the wooden rafters across the ceiling.
“I can’t believe it's your turn in here, Gin,” Georgia said wistfully. “It feels like you were just over having slumber parties with me, and now it's your place.”
Ginny rested her head on her eldest sister’s shoulder. “Aww, Georgie. Motherhood has made you so sentimental. You can escape Mr. Clean and his perfect little minion and have a slumber party here with me any old time. No questions asked.”
“What about me?” Caroline elbowed Ginny from her other side. “Am I invited? I’m the one living with all those boys!”
All three groaned, likely simultaneously remembering Dakota’s unexplainable smelly stage, where everything he owned and touched seemed to stink like dirty gym socks soaking in bath water.
“Of course you’ve invited,” Ginny said, grabbing Caroline’s hand. “I’d never subject you to stinky boys for too long.”
“They’re kind of amazing, though,” Caroline sighed. “And so,socute.”
“And my house is freakishly clean all the time. Toddler included,” Georgia added.
Ginny hummed, not understanding at all but well acquainted with their fanciful musings over the Lovett brothers, who they’d each fallen head over heels for and married. In truth, Georgia and Caroline, seven and five years older than Ginny, had both dove headfirst into their own lives with careers, husbands, and now kids. Built their own families. Moments like this one, in the loft with just her sisters—though missing Sadie—were few and far between.
Sadie had lived in the loft above Good Start Coffee for the last year and a half while Dakota had gone through Officer Training School and then his initial pilot training for the Air Force. But after this weekend, they’d be married too and off to Florida for his first assignment. And Ginny would be settled in the cozy, studio loft that each of her elder siblings had lived in at one point or another. Alone. With her mustard yellow couch pillows, ancient hand-me-down couch, and the festive candles she’d definitely be buying for each season. But even those little details that would make this place hers couldn’t lessen the strange feeling of loss she felt moving everything she owned into the loft.
Ginny loved the idea of Dakota, her lifelong, built-in bff, and Sadie—who’d become as close as a sister to Ginny over the past few years—running away and living happily ever after together. Though when her brother and his beloved fiancé chose public displays of affection—specifically where his parents, siblings, or their children were present—Ginny did have to actively remind herself not to gag.
They were in love. They rarely saw each other. She was happy for them. It was natural, etc, etc.
But more commonly, Ginny found herself deeply saddened at the thought of her two closest friends leaving her behind in Sugartree as they set off on a new adventure together. Although she was the youngest, she’d never really had to say goodbye to any of them. It was the beginning of a new, uncharted season.
All three siblings had stayed in state for university and had then settled in the crazy little town of Sugartree with their spouses… aside from Dakota. Her protector. Her pest. Her pal.
While Georgia and Caroline, the two oldest, had been paired their whole lives—a strong force against the world—Ginny, being the baby, had most often been paired off with Dakota, sibling number three and the only boy in the bunch.
Now that stinky, endearing buddy of hers was leaving and taking one of her best friends with him. Their sisters were busy with husbands and babies and jobs. And Ginny would have the loft… to herself.
Every time Sadie became giggly over her upcoming wedding, color schemes, or house hunting, Ginny tried her very best to remind herself of how happy she felt for Sadie and Dakota and not how much she’d grieve their absence in her everyday life. Moving into the loft was the final piece of the abandonment puzzle.
“So,” Caroline said, breaking Ginny from her private and pathetic reverie, “how much do you wanna bet Kota cries before he’s even in his tux tomorrow?”
“Ten bucks says he holds out until she walks down the aisle,” Georgia said through her laughter, always giving Dakota the benefit of the doubt.
But Ginny knew her brother, and she knew how long he’d waited—not entirely patiently—for Sadie to love him in return. “I bet he doesn’t make it through dinner tonight.”
“Virginia Maple, where on God’s green earth were you all morning?” Ginny’s mother looked completely put together in her blush-colored, mother of the groom gown, though her tone and the red fire in her eyes told Ginny she should tread softly. “We had a mind to hunt you down. Ya know… so we could get ready for your brother’s wedding. Ya nearly missed the whole thang!”
A terrible exaggeration. Ginny had only missed Caroline’s early morning grumpiness, Georgia’s itinerary debrief and, likely, Sadie giving everyone a chirp of wisdom in the midst of it all.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” she offered. “I had a quick errand to run this mornin’.”
To the record store in Honey Hill, where she found herself most mornings when she felt as if she wanted to be surrounded by noise but not necessarily by people.
