All of a sudden, I feel like crying. In a good way. In the best way. Because I know exactly what she means. It’s butterflies and haziness and heart eyes, but underneath all that, there’s this bass line of I can’t believe this. I can’t believe this is me.
I can’t quite articulate the sweetness of that feeling.
It’s finding out the door you were banging on is finally unlocked. Maybe it was unlocked the whole time.
32
THERE’S NO REHEARSAL DINNER. THERE’S no rehearsal anything. But all the out-of-town people get here on Saturday night, and it’s actually starting to feel real.
Grandma Betty is at the Marriott, and my Suso grandparents are staying at the bed and breakfast up the road. I think my moms’ college friends are getting in tomorrow morning.
But Abby’s coming tonight. With Nick. And she’s staying at our house.
I set up the air mattress in my room, and Cassie moves her stuff in. I don’t even care that we’ll basically have to sleep on top of each other. It’s the first Suso slumber party in over a year.
The doorbell rings just as we’re putting dinner dishes away, and I catapult into the foyer. I move so quickly, I actually skid across the hardwood.
“Oh my God.” Abby’s in the doorway, jumping up and down.
“You’re here!”
“I’m here! You’re here!” She inhales deeply. “Ahh! You smell like Molly.”
“Wait, is that—”
“It’s a good thing!”
Which makes me think of Reid. And his deodorant. I shouldn’t blush.
“I can’t believe you’re actually here.”
“I’m here. And look who I brought!” She beams, stepping back. “Molly, this is Nick. Nick, Molly.”
It’s funny the way some people look just like their pictures. Like Simon. But Nick is actually cuter in person. Way, way cuter. He has these magnetic brown eyes that don’t entirely translate in photos.
“Hey.” He stands awkwardly in the foyer with a big canvas duffel bag. “Thanks for letting me come to this.”
“Are you kidding? Of course!”
Outside, I hear the beep of the car locking. Moments later, Isaac appears, dragging two suitcases. “Hey, Mo,” he says, practically kneeling to hug me. Isaac is six foot four. No joke. He makes Reid look short.
It occurs to me that he’s a nice height for Olivia.
But no. Nope. She doesn’t want that. Banish the thought.
Nick and Isaac take the bunk beds in Cassie’s room. It’s actually funny, having Abby and Isaac here without their parents. Uncle Albert and Aunt Wanda are staying in Isaac’s studio apartment on U Street—which is honestly a half step up from a frat house.
“What’d your mom think of your flip cup table?” Cassie asks him.
Isaac grins. “Tablecloth and vase of flowers.”
“Genius.”
As soon as Abby shuts my bedroom door, Cassie bursts out with it. “Molly has a—drumroll please—boyfriend.”
“What?” Abby gasps. “Oh my God. You kissed him. Really? Oh my God!”
“I KNOW,” Cassie says. “And she didn’t even tell me.” She flops backward on the air mattress.
“I didn’t tell anyone,” I say.
“Except our moms.”
“I didn’t tell them! They found out.”
“Oh, I’d like to know this story,” Abby says.
“There’s not really a story. Patty heard us.”
Abby and Cassie burst out laughing.
“What?” I ask. I feel myself smiling.
“Heard you doing what?” Abby asks.
THIS AGAIN.
“Not that. God. Talking. Just talking.”
“Sure.”
“Maybe kissing.”
“There you go,” Cassie says. She picks up a pillow, throws it at me, misses, picks it up again, and smacks me.
“Pillow fight!” Abby yells, making her voice super high. “This is the fantasy, right? Should I tell Nick this is happening?”
Cassie nods. “Tell him we’re pouring honey on our boobs.”
Abby laughs, pulling out her phone.
“Wait, seriously? Are you texting him that?” Cassie clambers toward Abby, who smoothly twists away from her. “Wait, let me see.”
“Nope.” Abby grins. “This is confidential.”
“My ass is confidential.”
“Let’s hope so.”
And it’s funny, watching them bicker. It’s like falling backward through time. I feel perfectly content. I don’t even want to talk. I just like being here.
I text Reid. I think you’re going to have to dance with me tomorrow.
Three dots.
Ohhhh no. I don’t dance.
AND YET.
You have NO IDEA how clumsy I am, Molly.
I laugh. I have some idea . . .
My dance moves have actually killed people.
“Look at this one giggling into her phone,” Abby says.
I look up, smiling guiltily—and I catch a sudden glimpse of myself in the mirror across the room.
It’s the weirdest thing. My hair is unbrushed. I’m wearing what may actually be one of Nadine’s maternity shirts. And pajama pants. And there’s a spot of toothpaste in the corner of my mouth.
But for the first time in maybe ever, I feel really beautiful.
33
I’M TOO EXCITED TO SLEEP. I keep thinking about the wedding and Reid and the centerpieces and my outfit.
I’m in love with my dress. The design is so simple: soft and blue green, with short sleeves, and a layer of tulle under the skirt. That’s it. But it fits me in exactly the right way. It doesn’t make me look skinny. I think it makes me look fat on purpose.
I keep touching the fabric. I can’t wait to get dressed.
There’s something in the air. I feel this buzz of anticipation. Outside my window, I see my moms lining two long tables with chairs. There’s definitely no tent. Maybe Nadine talked Patty out of it. But it’s sunny and warm. I almost sigh with relief.
My whole morning is devoted to decorations. I think I’ve finally nailed it: vintage Coke crates for height, painted mason jars at different levels, and flowers—mostly baby’s breath, but some hydrangeas. I’ll stagger Olivia’s painted animal figurines all around, plus family photos, framed in painted wood. Then I’ll drape the fabric garland over the ceremony space, kind of like a scraggly chuppah, and Isaac says he’ll help me hang twinkle lights from the trees.
And I actually think I might cut up my bead string. Because I’m suddenly obsessed with the idea of magazine bead napkin holders.
Seriously, I could do this for a living. Maybe one day I will.
Though these stone-cold bridezillas can be a little challenging. I’m fielding texts from both my moms every few minutes.
Sweetie, can you remind Isaac to tip the rentals guys?
Momo, I need you to find the laptop charger
Mission abort! CHARGER HAS BEEN LOCATED.
The caterers just arrived. Maybe you could get them set up in the kitchen? Thanks!!!
I mean, I’m still in pajama pants, but I guess that’s almost like pants. I run down the stairs and almost bump directly into one of the caterers. “Oh God. I’m sorry.” I look up. And my whole face goes warm. “Julian?”
“Oh, no way! You’re Elena’s friend. Molly, right?”
My eleventh crush. Julian Portillo of the Experimental Breakfasts. And now he’s a caterer. Go figure.
“So your moms are getting hitched,” he says.