It wasn’t until I sat alone at my table — my palm pressed against my necklace, watching everyone dance together, so happy to be with their match — that I allowed the wave of sadness to hit me.
As “My Girl” finished playing, the deejay asked everyone to return to their seats, announcing it was time for the speeches.
My stomach dropped, and I immediately felt my hands start to shake. The hard part for Krista might have been over, but the worst was yet to come for me. As Kyle’s best man gave his speech, I took a deep breath, trying hard to remember what I’d written and rewritten and practiced a thousand times over the past month.
Krista beamed at me when the microphone was passed to me. Months ago, when she’d tentatively asked if I would be fine giving a speech in front of all these people, I’d promised her that I’d be okay. That I wouldn’t let her down, no matter how much I wanted to run away, no matter how hard my chest tightened, regardless of the deafening sound of my pulse in my ears.
I stood, almost tripping on my heels, taking a moment to breathe and right myself.
“Um, hi, everyone,” I said, gripping the microphone too hard, my palms growing warm. “I’m Krista’s little sister, Skylar, and I know that I’m supposed to stand here and share some sort of embarrassing story about her, but the thing is, she doesn’t have any. Because my whole life,” I said, glancing at an already-smiling Krista, “she’s been perfect. And I’ve been so lucky to have her as a big sister. She’s always been the one I’ve gone to for advice, to share secrets, this inseparable bond always pulling us together, no matter how far we may roam. And, um…” I said, totally blanking on the next line as a literal spotlight shined on me.
I was suddenly aware of all eyes on me, and my panic overpowered the part of my brain that formed words.
“Um, so, I want to talk about,” I paused, taking a deep breath, having absolutely no clue what I’d planned to say.
I glanced at Krista who was still smiling, and my parents who were watching me from the table right in front. I looked around the room, wishing, hoping, there was some way Dean would be here, like magic, but he wasn’t. And I knew he wouldn’t be. I scrambled, wracking my brain, trying to remember what my speech was.
“So what do you think?” I’d asked him three weeks ago after I’d practiced my speech next to him in bed. “Is it totally lame?”
He’d shook his head, lifting up on his elbow so he could look at me. “It’s not lame. It’s great,” he’d said, dropping a kiss on my cheek.
“Yeah, but does it make you want to cry? Is it the best speech you’ve ever heard?”
He’d laughed, and I’d shifted so my head was resting on his chest, his arms around me. “I don’t know, Skye. How does it make you feel? Do you want to cry?”
“No, but that’s not the point. I just want other people to like it.”
“Well, in that case, I think it’s perfect,” he’d said, shifting so we were facing each other.
I’d looked at him, waiting for him to continue. He’d rolled his eyes and grinned at my newfound listening skills.
“It’s a great speech. It really is. It hits all of the right notes. Sentimental, a dash of humor, a strong finish. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with it. I just think…” he’d hesitated, deciding if he wanted to say what he was thinking, knowing he could be honest with me, “…I think it could be more real, you know? It sounds like anyone could give that speech, and it would fit. I’m not sure I believe it’s coming from here,” he’d said, reaching out, gently placing his hand on my chest, over my heart.
Now, standing in a spotlight, I pressed my hand over my chest, finding the necklace I hadn’t taken off since my birthday, fumbling to grab the moon.
“I want to talk about,” I repeated, whatever I’d written gone forever, “Love.”
I took another breath.
“Right, yes, I want to talk about love. Um, my sister has been in love with Kyle for four years, and I’ve always wanted something like that,” I said, glancing at her again, trying to smile. “The moment she met him, she knew. An instant connection. She knew that she’d found the someone she’d been waiting for. The absolute right person for her,” I said, not able to plan any of the words I was saying in advance, them just tumbling out.
“And you know, for a while, I was jealous. Not because Kyle became the person who knew my sister best out of everyone in her world. But because I was jealous of something so powerful, that love. Kyle and Krista have this incredible, almost too-much-to-explain kind of love. I mean, at first glance, you know they love each other, you know? The way they look at each other, everything else just falling away, and it’s just them, together. But it’s not always about what you see in a glance either,” I said, looking over at my parents. “It’s about the series of magical moments. Magical moments that you two both create, that you get to remember forever.”
I took another deep breath.
“Love is that feeling you carry inside yourself, almost like a little secret, that kind of feeling where you aren’t sure if your heart is pounding so hard because of their smile or their stupid jokes or how they make you feel when they look at you,” I said, my voice growing stronger. “Or because you know, in an instant, if they walked away, your heart would burst. And it would never be the same because your heart isn’t meant for everyone. It’s meant for that one person, that one person who knows you best, who lets you be who you want to be, no questions asked. They know all the little details about who you are, and they love you because of those details, those facts, not despite them. They inspire you. They make you want to be better, not because you need to be better, but because who you are with them is the best possible version of yourself. And that person is always there for you, no matter if it’s 3:14 a.m. or 7:26 p.m., under the stars or the sunshine, that person who will always catch you when you fall,” I said, looking at Krista, blinking back the tears that made everything blurry against the bright light on me. She smiled, nodding, delicately wiping away her own tears.
I looked back at my parents, right at Dad, taking a deep breath.
“And that’s love. And you don’t have to explain it anyone,” I said, pressing my palm over my chest again, my heart racing. “And it doesn’t matter if no one else gets it or feels it. Because you can.”
I took a shaky breath.
“So, here’s to Krista and Kyle, to being perfect, to love—” I said, raising my glass, unable to choke out another word, unable to stop the tears from falling. I was finished, out of breath, out of words.
Dad stood. “Cheers,” he said, smiling faintly at me as he lifted his glass. Everyone followed his lead, clinking glasses and clapping.
The spotlight shifted off of me, and I sat down hard in my seat, unable to stand any longer, the tears coming out even harder. Everyone focused on Krista and Kyle who kissed, laughing, as everyone clinked their spoons against their glasses.
Recovering, I stood as everyone shifted to watch them cut the cake. I grabbed my purse and slipped out to the ballroom’s hallway, trying to remember exactly where the bathroom was so I could fix my makeup and smooth my hair.
“Skylar.”
I turned, seeing my dad, the heavy door closing behind him, all the cheering, music, and happiness instantly silenced, leaving just us.
“Dad, I can’t talk right now,” I said, stepping back, not wanting to do this here right now. Even though all the wedding activities were over, just a night of dancing left, I wanted to stay calm in case Krista needed me.
“You can’t be this upset with me,” he said, shaking his head. “You don’t understand—”
“Yes, I do, Dad. I get it, okay? You want what you think is best for me. And you refuse to let me believe I have any choice in that, right?”
He looked stunned at what I’d just said. I was, too.
Then he exhaled, somewhere between exasperation and annoyance. “We’re at your sister’s wedding, the only one she’s ever going to have, and I’m not going t
o let the whole night go by with only one of my daughters speaking to me.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, scowling, not wanting to hear the rest. “I don’t care what you want, Dad. This night isn’t about you. It’s Krista’s night, and she’s really happy.”
He rubbed his forehead. “Skylar, that is all I want. I want my daughters to be happy. I want what’s best for you—”
“As long as what’s best is handpicked by you or Mom.”
He sighed heavily, putting his hands in his suit jacket. I looked at him in silence. After he didn’t speak, I stepped back, my tears long dried now.
“I’m not going to fight with you in the middle of the hallway outside Krista’s reception. That’s irrational. And I know I can’t change your mind once it’s made up. So, I don’t know where we go from here,” I said with a shrug, walking to the door. “If you want to know about Dean, I’m ready to tell you all about him. I won’t hold anything back. No more lies. But like I said, I’m not going to fight with you. So you decide what you want.”
He stared at me, not recognizing the person I was being. I barely did either, but I preferred this version much more than the meek person I’d been before.
“Wait,” he said, his tone serious, demanding, knocking my confidence down a peg. I dropped my hand from the ballroom door handle, holding my breath. “Listen to me, Skylar, I can get past the appearance,” he said, sighing again, his anger deflating. “Hell, your mom has a butterfly tattoo on her shoulder blade that she got senior year when we had too much fun at the beach during Spring Break.”
My mouth dropped open. That explained why she refused to wear sleeveless dresses, calling them tasteless or out of fashion.
“I get that in this day and age, things are different. Even our server at your birthday, at the nicest restaurant in town, had a tattoo on his wrist. And I tipped him twenty-five percent.”
I rolled my eyes, grateful Mom wasn’t here to tell me I was rude.
“But all those tattoos, that means something more than just a mark, sweetheart. I’m sure he has his reasons for why he chose to get so many. But to me, all they mean is that he’ll never wear a suit, never sit in an office, run a meeting. Do you think he’ll get how important it is when you have to work late at the end of each quarter? How you’ll have to put work first to keep getting promotions? You can’t slack off, you have to have a strong work ethic, and I don’t think he’ll understand that. You need someone who can be supportive of that sort of lifestyle. He’ll never understand your world.”
I shook my head, so completely over the assumptions.
“Dean works late every single night,” I said, so frustrated I hadn’t just said this all from the beginning. “He has two jobs on top of an upcoming gallery show. And yeah, you’re going to hate that one of those jobs is that he’s a barista. But you know, it’s because he knows he needs a steady income, something he can count on, while he does what he loves, which is painting. He’s not being irrational, he’s being responsible. And most importantly, when I told him about my job offer, he didn’t make me second-guess it. You know what he did?”
Dad looked at me, shaking his head slightly, shocked by this.
“He was so overwhelmingly excited for me. He swept me off my feet and said we had to celebrate, that we could do anything I wanted. And then he immediately asked me how happy my parents were,” I said, feeling a wave of sadness hit me at the memory. “And I admitted to him that I was nervous to tell you. Because you wouldn’t be happy for me like that. And that’s the thing he didn’t understand. That’s the part of my world he’ll never understand. You.”
“Sky—”
“No, let me finish,” I said, annoyed I never seemed able to get a word in. “He’s the one who was there when I practiced all my job interviews. He’s the one who I practice my economic presentations with. The one I go to for advice on my midterms or my schedule, the one who listens to all my stories about my internship and classes. He’s the one who’s been there, behind the scenes, with me the whole way, never once holding me back or doubting my ability.”
Dad sighed, a long and slow sigh, exhausted.
“Do you remember when you were so little, you fell and had to get stitches?”
“Of course I do. What does that have to do with this now?”
“That was one of the most terrifying moments of my life. There is no greater fear in a parent’s world than their child getting hurt. And sweetie, you were always such a rambunctious kid, too. Krista would listen to every direction I gave her perfectly, never question any of my rules. But you,” he said, shaking his head, kind of smiling at me. “You were such a rule breaker. I’ve always had to be harder on you, keep a closer eye on you or else you’d do something exactly like that, run too fast, not looking where you were going, crashing. And you were so mad at me, telling me it was all my fault that you fell. You wouldn’t stop yelling at me the whole way, in the doctor’s office, the whole time you blamed me.”
I shook my head, not remembering it that way. I had been crying, not making any sense when I’d been shouting, I was sure, trying to recall the exact moment, parts of it faded now.
“You were so little, and you were so hurt. You were my baby girl. You still are,” he said, his voice quiet, nothing at all like the angry tone he’d been using. “I just want what’s best for you. Always. And that means making sure you stay on track, that you stay on the path in front of you, staying focused.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I said, feeling so calm, so clear, so confident in this moment. “It means letting me feel the freedom I’m creating for myself and helping me if I fall. But I won’t always fall, Dad. You just have to trust me.”
He startled me by hugging me. I stumbled slightly, making him squeeze me tighter. “I love you, Skylar, you know that. No matter how hard I am on you, it’s because of that fact, okay?”
I nodded, hugging him, pulling away as I felt fresh tears forming in my eyes. “Dad, what do you always say when we’re getting too emotional and we need to solve a problem?”
He kind of laughed. “We need to step back and think about it like a math problem.”
He took a breath, and I saw him softening, becoming less of the protective strict dad I knew so well and more of someone I could actually talk to.
“Okay, Skylar, how about this proposal. You’re in a Corporate Finance class right now, so I’m sure you’ve started covering all sorts of conditional statements. So let’s make our own little one here. If you can promise me that you’ll be honest with me from now on, no more sneaking around or secrets, if you can promise me that you’re not going to suddenly want to be a photography major,” he said, giving me a look that made me laugh, “if you can promise me that you won’t miss any family dinners, not a single one, no matter how much you want to see this boy, if you can promise me that you won’t show up with a tattoo, not even a butterfly, if you can promise me that your grades won’t slip by a percent and that you’re going to take the job you were offered after graduation, and if the next time I ask this Dean guy a question, you let him answer, not you,” he said, pausing, looking right at me. I nodded, listening, waiting. “Then I guess I can give this guy you say is so special another chance. Deal?”
I bit my lip, trying to stop myself from smiling.
“Can I negotiate?”
“No, Skylar, this isn’t a contract. Take it or leave it.”
I laughed, throwing my head back and covering my mouth with my hand, unable to contain my excitement, nodding.
“Okay, I take it. I promise, Dad,” I said, hugging him again.
He patted my back and ruffled my hair, rolling his eyes at how emotional I was being.
“Come on, let’s get some cake before your mother catches me and tells me that I’m supposed to be cutting back.”
“Isn’t that technically sneaking around?”
“We can have just this one little secret,” he said with a smile, opening the door, the upbeat music pouring outside
, everyone dancing to “Build Me Up Buttercup,” so happy together inside.
“Um, actually,” I said, taking a step back, suddenly knowing exactly what I needed to do.
What I wanted to do.
“Can you tell Krista that if she needs me, I’m only seventeen minutes away?”
Dad looked at me, confused. “What do you mean?”
“I need to go fix something,” I said, taking another step back. “One more math problem I’ve made a total mess of.”
Dad looked right at me, sighing lightly, and nodded. “Don’t run too fast, sweetie,” he said with a faint smile, letting me go.
★☽★★☽
“Shit,” I said, flinging open the door and looking around.
There were exactly 18 people in the coffee shop and not a single one was Dean. I took a deep breath, acutely aware of everyone looking at me. In heels, a full-face of makeup, hair styled way too perfectly, and a blush sweetheart gown, a girl like me didn’t belong in here.
“Hey, Skylar, right?” Roe said, giving me a slightly weird look because of my appearance as I walked up to the counter. “Are you looking for some coffee?”
“Skye,” I corrected him. “Um, where is Dean?”
I had been positive he’d be here since he now worked every other Saturday so he could take off Mondays to spend the day with his dad. It was something he’d asked me about before he did it, wanting to ensure I was on board with the switch, making some joke with that teasing smirk of his about how I made him think about planning ahead now.
Roe sat down the cup he’d picked up to write my order on. “Oh, he’s in the back doing inventory. He’s the only one of us that doesn’t totally screw up the numbers.”
I laughed, shaking my head. Of course he was.
“Well, uh, could I maybe go back there…” I hesitated, turning around to look at all the people in jeans and t-shirts or sweatshirts, all 36 eyes on me in this stupid dress. “Actually, can you ask him to come out here? Um, and just don’t tell him that it’s me, okay? Just tell him one of his regulars is asking for him.”
A Guy Like Him Page 34