Four Day Fling(40)

“Done.” I held one hand out flat on the table.

He tapped it with his in our form of a deal. “I’ll be back in five.” He got up as smoothly as he came. Seconds later, our server returned, and I asked her for my dad’s preferred drink before she left.

“I feel like that’s a habit with you two,” Adam said, picking up his beer.

Slowly, I nodded. “We survive these events knowing that we’re there for one another. I buy whiskey, he’s there in the hall when I can’t take my mom anymore. He’ll still pull a shotgun on anyone who hurts me because I’m his little girl, but he’ll booze me like the adult I am, because we both get the shit end of the deal in this family.”

“So if you break up with me because I cheat on you, he’s gonna shoot me?”

“God, no.” Rosie sat two seats away from me. “He only pulled a shotgun once, and that was because he found a pregnancy test in my bathroom that belonged to our cousin.”

True story.

“How are you doing?” I asked her.

She twirled a wine glass between her fingers. “Can I tell you something? I’m so done with this shit.”

I blinked.

Adam held me a little tighter.

Rosie leaned in. “This fancy stuff? I didn’t want it, Pops. Me and Mark have Rory. We’re a family. This is just a piece of paper.”

She’d had too much champagne.

I knew that straight away.

“I don’t want a big wedding. I want to marry him. But no. Our moms said big wedding where there’s no chicken and my sister has to run around for strawberries and there are so many parties that Fashion Week feels inadequate.”

Adam glanced at me.

“Ro, why don’t you come to the bathroom with me?” I stood up, rounding to her. “Ad, make sure Dad gets his…water, okay?”

“It’s fucking whiskey,” Rosie muttered.

“Okay, his whiskey,” I agreed.

“It’s cute when you call him Ad,” my sister carried on.

“And we’re going!” I looped my arm through hers and, after shooting Mark an ok sign with my fingers, took her into the bathroom closest to the ballroom.

I pushed the main door shut behind me, closing out the noise of the music that pounded through the ballroom.

Rosie leaned against the counter. Her pale pink nails contrasted with the black marble. Her other hand swept her bangs to the side, and she looked at me, fear and panic shining in her warm brown eyes.

“I’m scared,” she said softly. “All of this, Pop. And for what? Mom to change plans I didn’t want? Chicken to disappear? You to chase strawberries around Key West?”

Shit. She knew about that.

“Yes, I know,” she said, reading my mind. “I can’t even be mad because you did that for me. This wedding is too big, it’s too much, and I can’t do this.”

“You can.” I stepped forward and grabbed her hands. “I love you, Ro, and you can do this. You already are. Who gives a shit if there’s chicken or strawberries? You’re here for Mark, and he’s here for you. You’re here to get married and if someone has to eat beef instead of chicken or have carrots or something then tough shit. Order McDonalds.”

She laughed, bringing a hand to her mouth.

I pulled her into me. “You’re getting married, not putting on a fucking state fair, even if Grandpa is this close to setting up a booth and charging ten cents for a story about his time in the Red Light District.”

More laughing, this time into my shoulder.

Crying, too. I felt the wetness of a tear as it dripped to my shoulder.

“You can elope, you know,” I said, hugging her and staring at the tiles. “You’ve probably got time to get to Vegas and back by now. Depending on flights and delays and shit.”

She laughed.

The door opened.

I dropped her like hot coal and rammed my body against the door. “Sorry, this one is occupied!”

“It’s Mark!”

“It’s still occupied! I’ll call you!” I yelled. “Go away!”

“Poppy, I swear, I’ll—”

“Do nothing because I’m holding your future wife hostage!”

He shuffled. “I’ll tell all future dates about the time you accidentally tweeted a photo of your boobs.”

“It’s probably already saved on the Internet. Go ahead.”

Rosie laughed into her hands.

“Are you done?” I asked him. “I’m being a good sister in here and you’re killing my vibe.”

“Is that a sex toy?”

“Why don’t I shove it up your ass so you can find out?”

Rosie gave up hiding it at that point. She collapsed against the wall, laughing like someone invisible was tickling her.

She was ticklish. It was a real analogy. You so much as wiggled a feather in her direction and she keeled over.

“If I didn’t love you like my sister, I’ll kill you in your sleep,” Mark shouted.

“Is that how you talk to your son’s aunt? Wash your mouth out with soap!”

Rosie intervened at this point. “Honey, it’s fine. I just needed a break from all the crazy people.”

“So, Mom, Dad, Grandpa, Aunt Jean, Aunt Berry, Uncle Foster…” I trailed off.