Page 11 of Cabin Fever

“Got it.”

“I’m serious,” I say that more for myself because my insides are starting to fizz.

Finn gives me a solemn nod. “Yep. Just one question. Can I call you Perry?”

“Hell, no.”

Chapter Five

I arrive at the ballroom forty minutes early with a printed seating chart and a roll of double-sided tape. My eyes bug out of my head when I see that the ship's events staff has set the place cards we asked for in alphabetical order. As if I didn't send over a seating diagram.

Finn insisted on coming up early with me, and now the two of us are hustling to redistribute all seventy-three cards. I start with my dad’s name first since the current setup has him sitting next to my mother. Instead, he gets Table Eleven in the corner. Near the service door between Aunt Bev, who will talk at him for three uninterrupted hours, and cousin Renata's fiancé, who doesn't know anyone. It’s a masterclass in quarantine.

“Harper.” My mother materializes at my elbow in a blue wrap dress, smelling like the Pantene shampoo she's used since before I was born, and starts fixing my hair without asking. “You're wearing earrings. See, you can be taught.”

I push her hands away. “I always wear earrings, Mom.” Only because I bought those hoops you can sleep, shower, or mud bathe in. Life changing.

Mom tucks a piece of hair that escaped my updo behind my ear, then holds my face in both hands for a second. Her eyes go soft and glassy. “Look at all this. You did this.”

“Pam’s team did most of it.”

She pats my cheek like I'm being stupid. “Okay, honey.”

Here's the thing about my mom. She fell hard for two years after my dad went to prison, but when she got back up, she skyrocketed into the stratosphere. She’s spent every year since being relentlessly on her feet. Like she's doing penance.

She took a hospital billing job at fifty-one. She learned Excel off YouTube. She volunteers at the food bank every Wednesday and is the first to sign up for meal trains, fundraisers, or community 5k’s.

If you want something done, she’s your person. Which was why it was so dang hard to convince her to let me take on the wedding. It was my consolation after losing the vote on inviting Dad. There was no way I could handle this without something to distract me.

“Hey.” Finn appears next to me. “Anything else?”

I shake my head. “Nope. Just wait for everyone to show up.”

He nods, adjusting his belt. He cleaned up nice in a cream collared shirt, linen dress slacks, and leather loafers sans socks.

“Where did you get all this?” I motion to his outfit.

“Like, where? The stores?”

I laugh. “No, the idea. You’re supposed to be blue-collar, right? You look like you just flew back from Paris.”

Finn raises a brow. “In a bad way?”

“No, not— It’s just surprising.”

Now he’s grinning. “Did you expect me to show up in overalls?”

Truth be told, I didn’t know what to expect. When we crossed paths in the grocery store over Christmas, he was in sweats and a T-shirt. I’ve never in my adult life seen Finn look so⁠—

“Handsome.” Mom grabs one of Finn’s biceps and leans back, appraising. “I remember when you used to run around in your underwear.”

“Still do sometimes.” Finn’s eyes flick to mine, and I pretend there’s someone who needs me at the pop-up bar.

When I get there, I have to come up with questions for the bartender to make it look legit. We talk about Marco’s favorite drinks and how his son back home is better at this job than he is. I honestly wouldn’t mind standing and talking with him for the rest of the night, but it’s seven o’clock and the room is already starting to fill.

Chatter accompanies the live music from the four-piece band playing old jazz standards from the corner. The room is washed in warm light, and it does nothing for the coral roses. They look more orangey-pink than they did in the hall.

“There she is.” Priya, Dahlia’s first college roommate, arrives already holding two glasses of wine. She's been an honorary Quinn since she came home with Dahlia for Thanksgiving freshman year. “I've been on this boat for thirty hours. I've had four piña coladas and seen two whales. I'm never going home. Who do I talk to about being buried at sea?”