When I returnhome, thirteen fish in tow, Penn’s sitting on the front porch, waiting. He’s thrown on a blue Cubs sweatshirt and his favorite navy hat, and despite my dramatic display this morning, he’s wearing a warm, easy smile.Damn him.
I hop out of his car and nod at the open garage, where cardboard boxes have been stacked into a massive pyramid. “What’s all that?”
“Decorations. For tomorrow’s party,” he explains. “Bridget dropped them off a little while ago. Gave me strict instructions not to touch a thing. She has ‘a vision.’ ”
Oh, God.The pool party.
I’m in no mood to host, and I’m worried that my settling in here—wasting time and enjoying all this a little too much—is why the game keeps falling apart.
There’s no use in trying to postpone, though. Hell hath no fury like a Bridget held back from doing the absolute most. And who knows? At this rate, both pools might suddenly, overnight, be filled with neon sand that forces us to cancel the party anyway. I had a real thing for sand art back in the day.
Penn helps me transfer all the fish to the aquarium, which doesn’t exactly match the sexy morning-after routine I’d anticipated, but that’s a good thing. I need to focus.
When he tells me he has a surprise for me, I resist. “Can’t it wait?” I ask. “I have to get over to the diner. Theo and I need to prep for the 2000s party.”
“It’ll be quick,” Penn promises. “Please.”
I sigh as he drags me downstairs, through the kitchen, and into the yard. He leads me to the garden in the far corner, whererows of planter boxes house tomatoes and wilted, sad-looking green stuff that I probably need to water. Inexplicably, Penn’s lined the edge of each planter box with tea lights, as if we’re hosting a weird, midmorningBachelordate for all the garden insects.
“I don’t understand,” I say. “What is this?”
He shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs, nodding toward the expanse of dirt between the planter boxes. “You seemed pretty upset. Like you needed to process it. So.”
I study the garden floor. I didn’t notice them before, but there, in the soil, are three rows of tiny, shallow holes. My breath catches, the start of a laugh trapped in my throat. “Is this…”
“Preparations for a fish funeral,” he confirms. “It’s silly, but I thought it might help.” The painfully earnest look on his face melts over me like warm honey. “Your breakfast got cold, too, so I ordered us lunch.” He points to a takeout bag left on one of the patio tables. “Tacos. Not fish ones, though. I know you love them, but that felt a little too on the nose. And morbid.”
I snort out a laugh, simultaneously feeling hot tears behind my eyes. “This is the strangest, sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
Penn shifts behind me and rests his head on my shoulder, his arms around my waist. “Well, good, because your breakneck effort to replace those fish was one of the strangest, sweetest things I’ve ever seen.” He plants a kiss on my neck, then asks, “Should we say a few words?” He clears his throat. “Dearly beloved…”
A cackle bursts out of me. “Penn, that’s for weddings.”
“Right,” he says, beginning again. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the short but special lives of Ruby Elizabeth Wynne’s thirteen beloved fish. Let’s pour one out for Spot, and Tiger, and—”
I turn to face him. “You know their names?”
“C’mon, Wynne. I remember everything you’ve ever said to me.”
Wearing a smile that won’t leave my face, I rest back against Penn’s chest, grateful for the steady weight of him, and for the weird, wonderful thing we’ve got.
Even if it wasn’t me who introduced him to all the fish.
Even though the ground beneath us could crack open at any moment.
Wynne-Wynne
Ryan:Ciao, la mia famiglia!
Mom:Are you in Naples now? Look at that tan!
Ryan:Amalfi. I’m never leaving.
Ryan:Ru, it was nice knowing you.
Ruby:We had a good run.
Ryan:Ugh, I need to run. I’ve eaten my weight in olives.
