My eyes track back to Jacob and Maggie, the two of them still talking quietly.
“Jacob mentioned that he met you through Maggie?” I say, trying to prod for information. Trying to figure out why they would askJacobto give a toast.
“Yes, he was at the hospital a lot when I was getting treatments.”
My insides squeeze. “Oh, was he sick?”
“No, but Maggie’s son was. He and Jacob were really good friends.”
We’re quiet for a beat.
“You’re still doing okay, right?” I ask. “Health-wise, I mean?”
He nods. “They’ll keep monitoring things, but yes, I’m cancer-free.”
“And Maggie’s son?”
My dad shakes his head. “He passed,” he says softly. “Almost two years ago.”
I swallow, my eyes finding Jacob again. He’s turned to the side, so I can only see the curve of his cheek, the sharp line of his jaw. He has one hand on Maggie’s back, and he’s bent down, lowered in height so he can meet her gaze.
He told me he’d lost his parents, but I didn’t know he’d lost his best friend too.
A ding chimes, and Maggie hastily wipes at her eyes. “We need to check in with the caterer before dinner,” she says. She offers a wobbly smile in my direction. “My cousin just told me she’s discovered a new allergy, and I need to make sure her meal is switched before we start eating.”
“I can do that, Maggie,” Jacob says warmly, but she places a hand on his arm.
“Thank you, but Ajit and I need to talk to them before tomorrow anyway.” She tells us she’ll see us at dinner, and then she and my father walk away.
Jacob glances at me. “We should take our seats,” he says.
“Right.” I look out at the room, round tables scattered throughout. I step close to one, picking up a little place card with a name spelled out in cursive.
“You weren’t on the guest list,” Jacob says, his tone a bit gruff. “So you wouldn’t have been on the seating chart.”
“Oh.” I rub the back of my arm. “That makes sense. Maybe—I’ll just—” I scan to see if there are any extra chairs, but stop when Jacob lets out a huff of breath.
“Come on,” he says. His hand comes to the small of my back, the pressure light, the barest sensation. “You’ll be at the family table. At the front.”
“Oh.” I don’t move forward. “I don’t know if I should—”
The pressure at my back grows firmer. “Maggie will want you there.”
I peer up at him. The kind, pleasant expression he was wearing earlier has completely disappeared. He looks…frustrated, almost. And I can’t figure out why.
“Did I do something?” I ask him.
He drops his hand to his side, his fingers flexing wide. “What do you mean?”
“You’re…I don’t know. If I said something insensitive or did something that offended you, I’d like to know.”
“You didn’t,” he says.
“Really?” I blow out a breath. “You just seem like…you’re not acting like yourself.”
He grows stiff beside me.
“So, if I did anything—”
