FOUR
Max
That night’s welcome party is pure Damien: informal, laid-back, and relaxed. For one thing, it's not even a dinner. It's basically a night-long poolside bash, so everyone in attendance will likely get nice and loose, if they aren't already.
We’ll have a Cuban pig roast at some point tonight, but the beast looks like it's far from cooked through, and Dad is concerned the guys manning the pit will burn the resort down — that’s so Dad, always overthinking, always vigilant, even around people who fight wildfires for a living — so he's hovering. While wearing a black apron with a manatee on the front.
The guest list is a mix of Damien's firefighting crew, some local friends, and a handful of women I've never seen before. Probably Mom’s coven, from the looks of all the flowing linen dresses and amulets. As a party goes, it's perfectly weird, and weirdly perfect. As the welcome dinner for my little brother’s wedding, it’s questionable. This wasn’t what I envisioned for the first wedding of our family.
The whole relationship is odd, as far as I'm concerned. It’s too much, too soon. Or maybe it's because I still can't help thinking of Damien as a ten-year-old.
Sighing, I look around. Clustered near the pool and the surrounding lawn are an assortment of tanned firefighters and their partners, interspersed with younger locals I barely recognize. Lights are strung between the palms and everyone’s taking photos. The water in the pool glows a warm blue in the fading light.
There are a few people missing, though.
For starters, Damien and his fiancée. I still don't quite understand how their relationship happened so quickly. Sure, they knew each other in high school. But he'd come home in September and then, like a flash of heat lightning, he was engaged.
Even for Damien, this seems impulsive. Then again, we're total opposites. Of all our siblings, he's the one I'm least close to — partly the seven year age gap, partly the years we've both been away. He's more moody and intense, and I'm methodical and steady. Still, we have one thing in common: we're the only two of us five kids who left Cypress Grove. Also, I admire the hell out of the way he’s traveled all over the world, fighting fires.
It really puts my work in perspective.
I'd give my life for the guy. But I don't understand this shotgun wedding. Maybe Kate’s pregnant, although everyone in my family insists she’s not.
There's one other person I haven't spotted yet: the woman staying next door to me. The one who walked in on me half naked this afternoon. Where is she? She has to be part of the wedding group, because those are the only guests staying at the resort.
I spot Ma and Natalia near a cluster of potted palms, holding their drinks, and amble over. Ma's eyes go wide.
“Max! You look so handsome. So dignified.” She smooths the front of my white linen shirt.
I chuckle, thinking about that woman from earlier and how she'd probably describe me as the opposite of dignified. “Where's the man of the hour and his bride-to-be?”
“Damien and Kate are going over their vows and discussing arrangements. You know, it's so good to have you home.” Ma pinches my side. “You're too thin.”
Natalia rolls her eyes. “Here we go. The endless worrying about the first-born prince.”
I reach to give Nat a hug, and she squirms her slight frame out of my embrace. My younger — and only — sister is the snarkiest and smartest of us all. Guess she had to be, growing up with four brothers. For her first eighteen years, I think we did everything in our power to annoy her.
I flash back to the other night at the dinner table, when she and Remy got into a pitched battle over who drank her last cherry-lime fizzy water.
Okay, admittedly we've annoyed her in adulthood too.
“Maybe I'm the most fragile, my dear little sister. I seem responsible and organized, but inside I'm a tender soul. Remember, I was an only child for a few years before Mom and Dad decided to bring the rest of you urchins into the world. You all took everything away from me,” I joke, giving her my best puppy-dog face.
“Whatever. I'm glad you're back for this spectacle.” She grins and gestures around the party with her cup.
I shake my head. Spectacle is right. We'd grown up with our parents' marriage being the pinnacle of love, and if I had to bet, all of us want to hold out for something like what they have.
That Damien's tying the knot in such a cavalier way almost feels like a sacrilege.
“Oh, there's Amelia Matthews. She owns the Crescent Moon Inn now. I haven't seen her in ages. I'll be right back.” Ma flutters off, tossing her silver wrap over her tanned shoulders. Asusual she's dressed like a very glamorous hippie — shiny silver Birkenstocks, flowy white tank top, billowing white pants, a pale purple scarf. A giant silver pendant shaped like a sand dollar hangs from a sterling chain. She's always had a strong New Age streak, which is hilarious because Dad stays as far from the metaphysical stuff as humanly possible.
I glance at Natalia, who has dyed her long blonde hair a light bluish-purple since I saw her last. Which was yesterday. She looks like a woodland sprite, if woodland sprites vacationed at Florida resorts.
“Check out Ma's silver sandals,” I say.
Nat glances over and grins. “She called me from the store. Forty-five minutes on the phone, Max. Forty-five minutes about sandals.”
“And you stayed on the line the whole time.”
