Never Have I Ever

by Blakely, Lauren

  I make a note to find her later at the rehearsal dinner and ask how she’s doing, discover if something truly is wrong.

  For now, I return my focus to the groom. “I couldn’t be happier that you’re staying in New York,” I tell Charlie, because there’s something that feels remarkably good about letting the people in your life know that you want them in your life. Especially this guy. He’s pushed and prodded me and done everything he can to help me be happy again. Even if I never went out with whoever he tried to set me up with, knowing that he gave more than a couple flying fucks matters deeply. “And in case I haven’t said it, I do appreciate all the ways that you have given me a hard time for the last few years. You might not realize it, but it’s made a difference.”

  He arches a brow. “Something you want to tell me?”

  I laugh. “I’m just saying thanks. That’s all.”

  “And you’re welcome.” He leans a little closer. “Also, not to further spoil my own news, but I’m going to ask you to be godfather to my kid. Don’t let on to Jessica. She’s a vault when she has to be, and she rides me for not being one, so keep this on the down low. I’m not actually supposed to tell you we want you to be the godfather until she’s eight months pregnant, not two-and-a-half months, but—”

  “But you’re shit at keeping secrets?”

  He shrugs helplessly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You know me so well.”

  “Thank you. I’d be honored. And I know I’ve said it before, but congrats again on joining the six a.m. club.”

  “But I’m going to enjoy the next several months of not waking up early.”

  A spray of water lands on my chest, my face, my arms. I turn to see my two favorite people climbing up the ladder and onto the boat, splashing me as they go.

  I’m ready to jump in and splash back when Henry shouts, “Daddy, I saw a huge shark!”

  I stand at attention, scanning the seas instantly. “Where? Is everyone okay?”

  Henry laughs, his hand on his little belly.

  Lucy chimes in, “JK.”

  My heart rate has spiked to one thousand miles a minute, and it doesn’t calm down right away. “Don’t scare me.”

  Lucy points at me, laughing. “You’re the shark. You always say you’re the shark.”

  Charlie glances at me, chuckling. “They got your goat.”

  She sure did. I haul my girl in for a hug, then hand her a towel. Grabbing another one, I dry Henry’s hair a little bit, and soon we motor to the hotel’s beach then head inside the resort.

  We retreat to our rooms to get ready for an early rehearsal dinner. Once she’s showered and dressed in a peach sundress, Lucy informs me she needs a purse tonight. I don’t think she’s used a purse before. But she’s ten, so maybe now is when girls start.

  “Did you bring one? Or do you need to make a quick trip to the hotel’s sundry shop?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Of course I brought one, Dad. I need someplace for my stuff.” She darts into her adjoining room and returns a minute later with a tiny light-blue purse slung across her chest. It looks empty, but far be it from me to question the ways of women and accessories.

  She grabs Henry’s hand, declaring she’s ready to tackle youngest bridesmaid duties at dinner.

  At the restaurant, Jessica asks Lucy if she can sit next to Charlie’s five-year-old niece. Lucy says yes and proceeds to grab the crayons and help blonde-haired Becca draw on the paper tablecloth throughout dinner. They illustrate an entire barnyard full of animals, while I keep hunting for a chance to check in on Piper, who’s busier than St. Peter on a bad day.

  When dinner is through, and guests mill about dancing to island music and waiting patiently for dessert, Lucy pulls me aside to a corner of the restaurant’s wide-open deck. The look in her blue eyes is resolute. “Remember my summer list?”

  I bend lower, so we’re at the same level. “How could I forget?”

  “I’ve done almost everything on it.”

  “London, sundaes, snorkeling, turtles, mini golf, and being a night owl. Check, check, check, check, check, check.”

  She offers the start of a smile. “But there was something on it I wasn’t sure if I was ready for.”

  “I remember. ‘Share something that’s hard to share.’”

  She takes a breath. “I think I’m ready.”

  “Bring it on.”

  “You know how I’ve been studying all sorts of letters?”

  “Sure.”

  “I like to look letters up online, and I want to tell you why I’ve been studying them,” she says, lifting her chin like she’s hunting for her own confidence. “I’ve been doing it because . . . have you ever heard of those you may want to marry my husband letters?”

  Furrowing my brow, I try to process where she might be going. I’m only vaguely familiar with the concept from the New York Times essay section. “A little bit. Tell me more?”

  She takes a deep breath as if she’s steeling herself. “There was an article a couple years ago. One of my friends’ moms mentioned it then. This woman who was really sick wrote a letter, and it was published in the newspaper, and it said, ‘You may want to marry my husband.’”

  Every muscle in me tenses. A couple years ago.

  Before Anna died.

  Is this the letter Lucy’s been holding on to? Her words from the start of the summer echo sharply in my mind. It’s just a letter. I’ll share with you soon. When it’s right. I’ve had one for a while that I want to show you.

  A strange and thoroughly unexpected dose of fear runs through me. I don’t know that I can handle it if Anna gave one to Lucy for some reason, maybe for safekeeping until she thought I was ready.

  Because . . . I don’t want to face a ghost.

  I said goodbye to the ghost.

  I’ve grieved for the ghost, and I’ve let her go.

  I swallow past the Sahara Desert in my throat. “I know what you mean.”

  She sighs heavily, relieved. “Oh good. That makes things easier. I was waiting for—”

  Jessica pops over, pointing to Lucy. “There you are!”

  A second later, a blonde Tasmanian devil nearly tackles Lucy, grabbing her hand and shouting in glee, “Ice cream time!”

  Ice cream—the universal trump card.

  Lucy tells me we’ll talk later, then darts off with Jessica, Henry, and Becca to the ice cream table.

  Later.

  We’ll finish talking about this letter later.

  A letter that has churned up the sand on the seafloor.

  But I have to let it go for now, because I see the wedding planner marching the other way, toward the hall. She glances back briefly, and I detect that look again, that too-bright look in her eyes.

  She’s never like this. Something is off. I dismiss thoughts of letters I maybe don’t want to read.

  This is my present. This is what I need to read—this woman.

  She leaves the restaurant, and I follow her.

  34

  Piper

  This is not okay.

  I don’t do this.

  I don’t escape to the bathroom.

  But I’m a spring, bubbling up, overflowing with emotion, and I won’t let on in front of the bride.

  I rush into a stall and close the door.

  When I’m done, I exit and exhale a wobbly breath. I wash my hands, scrubbing them, then splash cold water on my face. I take another breath, another yoga mantra I pluck from thin air since I’m no yogini. I press my hands against the sink, needing support, needing balance.

  Maybe I should do a freaking tree pose. Better yet, I’ll be a flamingo.

  Still, I’m shaking. Do flamingos shake?

  I close my eyes, trying to find my center. Or is it a chakra?

  “Are you okay?”

  The voice carries across the small restroom.

  I snap open my eyes, stare at my reflection and his, and finally, finally, breathe again. I meet Zach’s gaze in the glass. Concern is
written across his forehead.

  I point to the door. “Can you lock it?”

  “Of course.” He does as I ask, then walks over to me at the sink, clasping my shoulders fiercely, spinning me around. His lips are a ruler. His jaw is set. “What’s going on, Piper? Are you okay?”

  I purse my lips, nodding. “I just got my period.”

  He smiles faintly, a question mark in his grin. “That’s a good thing?”

  I nod, relief flooding my veins. “But I didn’t get it on time. I’m three days late. I was supposed to get it in New York. It showed up a few minutes ago, and I’d been freaking out, and I was so scared that I couldn’t even handle the idea of taking a pregnancy test in case it was positive. I didn’t know what I’d do. And I’d finally pep-talked myself into buying one tonight if I didn’t get it. But I did, and I’m so relieved.” I draw a deep breath, desperately needing air as the worries, the what-ifs, the what-does-this-mean all spill free in a tumble of words. My voice is two sizes too small, and I sound like a twenty-something, but I need to talk. “For the last few days, all I could think about is what-if, what-if, what-if. What if I’m pregnant? I know we were safe, but things happen.”

  He nods, running his hand down my arm as if patiently waiting for me to talk more. And I do talk. It’s all I do, because it’s all I’ve not done the last few days. “The whole time I kept thinking, What if I am? What happens? I don’t even know if I want to be a parent, but what happens? We haven’t told your kids, and I feel like I’m breaking their trust. What if they saw us together? What if we were”—I flap my hands—“caught by them? That’s so wrong. I’m breaking Lucy’s trust. She’s a friend, and she trusts me. And I can’t pretend I don’t have feelings for you. There’s so much at stake, and what if we had done something so stupid . . .”

  A fresh round of tears stops the words.

  He steps closer, strokes my hair, and wraps his arms around me. His voice is low, but strong, so strong. “We would have figured it out.”

  I raise my face. “But how? How would we have figured it out?”

  “I don’t know. But I assume we’d have talked about it. We’d have sat down like adults. Because here’s the thing: I love you.” His tone is so fierce, so protective, like he’s holding me up with it.

  I can see why his clients need only him. He’s a warrior, a shield, the one you want guarding your blind side.

  “Because know this.” His gaze never leaves mine. “Whatever happens to you, it happens to me now. Okay?”

  I nod, my shoulders relaxing a tiny bit.

  “I’m in this with you. We’re in this together. We’ll figure it all out together. I don’t do things halfway, Piper. I don’t love halfway. I don’t care halfway. I’m all in. I love you completely, and I want to take care of you completely.”

  My heart. My God, I don’t think there’s room in my chest for it. It’s overgrown its home. It needs a new house, one where light floods in because all the doors are open.

  I wrap my arms around his waist, accepting his love, his need to care. It floods me, flowing through every cell, like liquid gold filling me up. “I want that.”

  “But do you want to have more kids?” He stops himself, laughing. “I don’t know why I said it like that. More kids.” He drags a hand through his hair, brow furrowing. “But I guess sometimes I feel like . . .”

  He doesn’t finish, but I know what he’s trying to say. Like his kids are mine. “I understand. Sometimes you feel like . . .”

  I trail off too, because I don’t want to be so presumptuous as to voice it. But we both feel it.

  He points to the door. “There’s no more waiting for the right moment. I’m going to tell Lucy tonight. Because, let’s be frank, Henry’s pretty chill about everything.”

  I laugh. “He is pretty chill.”

  “But Lucy loves you. And I have to be honest. We can’t wait for the next thing to happen. God forbid, what if something happens to you and Lucy wants to know why I’m sad that you broke a nail?”

  I shoot him a quizzical look. “Please tell me you’re not going to be upset if I break a nail.”

  He cups my cheek, strokes my jaw, and presses a soft kiss to my forehead, whispering, “You know what I’m saying.”

  “I do.”

  “It’s not your nail I’m worried about.”

  I press a hand to his heart. “I don’t worry about your nails either. But I’m just so relieved, Zach.” I need him to know where I stand. “I’m relieved because I’m not ready. I’m relieved because I don’t know that I’m ever going to be ready. And I don’t even know if you want more kids. Do you want more kids?”

  A grin tugs at his lips. “I’m open to whatever happens with you.”

  A lump forms in my throat, pushing its way higher. “You are?”

  His small grin transforms into a huge smile. “Whatever happens, I’m down with it. I am a lucky man, Piper. I have two healthy, amazing children. I have great memories that aren’t shackling me or stopping me from moving forward, and I have you, an incredible woman in front of me, who I adore and want to keep adoring and loving for as long as you’ll let me.”

  I scoff. “Let you! Let you? That’s what I want too.”

  “That’s my point.” He gestures from me to him. “Don’t you see? In a lot of ways, I have more than I ever expected. If you told me that you wanted to have a kid, I’d say, ‘Let’s go for it.’ If you told me you don’t ever want to, I’m cool with that too. Honestly, the only thing I don’t want is for you to be sixty and tell me you’re pregnant.”

  I laugh deeply. “I feel like that’s probably not going to happen.”

  “Good. Because when you’re sixty, we should be in Tuscany. Or here, snorkeling. Or just having a drink in Manhattan, looking back on the past twenty-five years. And laughing.” He cups my face. “The thing I want most is for you to be sixty and still be with me.”

  There’s nothing more I can say to that. Tears fall, and he kisses one cheek, then the other, then my lips, and it’s the softest, most loving kiss I’ve ever felt in my life. I feel it in my mind, in my soul.

  When he breaks it, he smiles widely. “You taste salty and sweet.”

  “Isn’t that kind of how I am?”

  He runs a thumb over my bottom lip. “That’s exactly how you are.”

  I rise on tiptoe and brush my lips against his, whispering, “You’re going to be so hot at sixty-two.”

  “Same to you. At sixty.”

  He drops his hand, threads it through mine, and tips his forehead toward the door. “Let me go wrangle the youngest bridesmaid away from the dessert table for a minute.”

  When we leave the restroom, the youngest bridesmaid is waiting for us, clutching her purse and a pale-blue envelope.

  35

  Zach

  Nerves crawl up my skin.

  I can’t do this now. If that’s what I think it is, I won’t do it now.

  “Lucy,” I say, a gentle warning.

  She stares at me fiercely, her voice filled with fire. “Dad.”

  Holy shit.

  She’s my daughter through and through. She gestures to a rattan couch in the open-air hallway, pointing to the tropical-themed pillows on it. “I want to share this. Now is the right time.”

  I try again, because negotiation is not a one-and-done thing. “It’s late. You can show me in the room.”

  She shakes her head. “It’s for both of you.”

  Piper’s brow knits, but she says nothing.

  “Lucy, some things are private,” I say. “Besides, I’d like to talk to you first.”

  The hallway is quiet, and she hops on the couch. “We can talk here.”

  She’s so damn determined.

  I sit next to her, and Piper takes the other side.

  Lucy serves first, beating me like a horse out of the gate. She thrusts the letter out, but not to me.

  To Piper.

  The woman I love takes it, asking me with her eyes if she shou
ld wait.

  I turn to Lucy, clasping her shoulder. She’s the kid. I’m the parent. There is a right order to the universe. “Lucy, you seem pretty determined, but so am I. I need you to know that I’m in love with Piper, and we want to be together.”

  All the stars in the universe twinkle in her eyes. “Read it,” she tells Piper, and I brace myself.

  Have you ever read one of those you may want to marry my husband letters?

  Scrubbing a hand across my jaw, I take a deep, fueling breath.

  Waiting for Piper to read those words.

  Words Anna wrote?

  Words Anna left with Lucy for the next person?

  Piper opens the envelope, unfolds a letter, and parts her lips, reading, “You may want to marry my father.”

  I blink, snap my gaze to my daughter.

  Her grin stretches to the edge of the galaxy.

  Piper continues.

  “I’ve been working on this letter for a while, because there’s so much to say. I could write a book! He deserves a book. But let me start with the basics.”

  The letter isn’t from beyond.

  It’s from here. This is what she’s been wanting to share all along: her very own letter. I listen, waiting for more.

  “My dad is awesome. But don’t just take my word for it. Let me share my list.

  “One: He makes amazing waffles. With strawberries! And whipped cream. They are so delicious. I know what you’re thinking. That’s no big deal. But they are a big deal. They’re so good, and the best part is he reads to us after he makes us waffles on weekend mornings. He reads Goosebumps to me, and Clifford the Big Red Dog to my brother, and I love to read too, so I’m reading Harry Potter to Henry because I’m awesome at reading. Girl power!

  “Two: Also, speaking of girl power, my dad is great with girls. Like me. He let me polish his toenails a candy pink when I was six, and he let my friend Hannah and me put wigs on him at the party store last year. And he can braid my hair. My mom liked him a lot. Ha. It was way more than like. She loved him. Because he’s so cool.