“Gary probably has a meth lab in the basement,” I said, and this time Jeremiah rolled his eyes.

I continued. “If we lived in that apartment, we would probably wake up in the middle of the night in an ice bath without our kidneys.”

“Belly, he rents apartments to lots of students. A guy from my soccer team lived there all last year, and he’s fine.

Still has both kidneys and everything.”

We looked at each other from across the car, on opposite sides. Jere said, “Why are we still talking about this?

You got your way, remember?”

He didn’t finish the sentence the way I knew he wanted to—You got your way, like you always do.

“We don’t know if I got my way or not.”

I didn’t finish the sentence the way I wanted to—We don’t know if I got my way or not, because of your bad credit.

I jerked the passenger door open and got in.

I got the call later that week. We didn’t get the apartment.

I didn’t know if it was because of Jere’s bad credit or my lack of credit, but who really cared. The point was, we didn’t get it.

Chapter Forty

It was the day of Taylor’s bridal shower. I kept thinking of it as her shower because she and her mom were the ones who were throwing it. The invitations they sent out were nicer than my actual wedding invitations.

There were already a bunch of cars parked in front of the house. I recognized Marcy Yoo’s silver Audi and Taylor’s aunt Mindy’s blue Honda. Taylor’s mailbox had white balloons strung on it. It reminded me of every birthday party Taylor had ever had. She always had hot pink balloons. Always.

I was wearing a white sundress and sandals. I’d put on mascara and blush and pink lip gloss. When I’d left the Cousins house, Conrad said I looked nice. It was the first time we’d spoken since the day we stopped for peaches.

He said, You look nice, and I said thanks. Totally normal.

I rang the doorbell, something I never did at Taylor’s house. But since it was a party, I figured I should.

Taylor answered the door. She was wearing a pink dress with light green fish swimming along the hem, and she’d done her hair halfway up. She looked like she should be the bride, not me. “You look pretty,” she said, hugging me.

“So do you,” I said, stepping inside.

“Almost everybody’s here,” she said, leading me to the living room.

“I’m just gonna go pee first,” I said.

“Hurry, you’re the guest of honor.”

I used the bathroom quickly, and after I washed my hands, I tried to brush my hair with my fingers. I put a little more lip gloss on. For some reason, I felt nervous.

Taylor had hung crepe-paper wedding bells from the ceiling, and “Going to the Chapel” was playing on the stereo.

There were our friends Marcy and Blair and Katie, Taylor’s Aunt Mindy, my next door-neighbor Mrs. Evans, Taylor’s mom Lucinda. And sitting next to her, on the loveseat, wearing a light blue suit, was my mother.

My eyes filled when I saw her.

We didn’t run across the room to embrace, we didn’t weep. I made my way around the room, hugging women and girls, and when I finally reached my mother, we hugged tightly and for a long time. We didn’t have to say anything, because we both knew.

At the buffet table, Taylor squeezed my hand. “Happy?”

she whispered.

“So happy,” I whispered back, picking up a plate. I felt such immense relief. Everything was really working out.

I had my mom back. This was really happening.

“Good,” Taylor said.

“How did this even happen? Did your mom talk to my mom?”

“Mm-hmm,” she said, and she blew me a little kiss. “My mom said it wasn’t even hard to convince her to come.”

Lucinda had set up the table with her famous white coconut cake as the centerpiece. There was sparkling lemonade, pigs in a blanket, baby carrots, and onion dip—

all my favorite foods. My mom had brought her lemon squares.

I filled my plate with food and sat next to the girls.

Popping a pig in a blanket in my mouth, I said, “Thank you guys so much for coming!”

“I can’t believe you’re getting married,” Marcy said.

“Me either,” Blair said.

“Me either,” I said.

Opening presents was the best part. It felt like my birthday. Cupcake tins from Marcy, drinking glasses from Blair, hand towels from Aunt Mindy, cookbooks from Lucinda, a glass pitcher from Taylor, a down comforter from my mother.

Taylor sat next to me, writing down who gave what 204 · jenny han

and collecting ribbons. She poked holes into a paper plate and wove the ribbons through.

“What’s that for?” I asked her.

“Your bouquet for the rehearsal, silly,” Lucinda said, beaming at me. She’d been tanning that morning. I could tell because you could see the marks her goggles had left.

“Oh, we’re not having a rehearsal dinner,” I said.

Because what was there to rehearse? We were getting married on the beach. It was going to be simple and uncomplicated, the way we both wanted it.

Taylor handed the plate to me. “Then you have to wear it like a hat.”

Lucinda got up and tied the paper plate around my head like a bonnet. We all laughed as Marcy took my picture.

Taylor stood up, holding her notebook. “Okay, so get ready for what Belly’s going to say on her wedding night.”

I covered my face with my ribbon hat. I’d heard of this game before. The maid of honor writes down all the stuff the bride-to-be says while she’s opening presents.

“‘Oh, so pretty!’” Taylor exclaimed, and the room tit-tered.

I tried to grab the notebook from her, but she held it above my head and read, “‘Jeremiah’s gonna love this!’”

After the toilet-paper wedding dress competition, after we helped clean up and everyone had left, I walked my mother to her car.

I felt shy as I said, “Thank you for coming, Mom. It means a lot to me.”

She brushed my hair out of my eyes. “You’re my girl,”

she said simply.

I threw my arms around her. “I love you so, so much.”

I called Jeremiah as soon as I got in my car. “We are so on!” I shouted. Not that we ever weren’t. Still, planning this wedding, being away from home, being in a fight with my mom—it’d had me in knots. But with my mother by my side, I finally felt like I could breathe again.

My worries were gone. I finally felt complete. I felt like I could do this.

That night, I slept at home. Steven and my mom and I watched crime TV, one of those shows where they re-create crimes. We howled like wolves at the horrible acting, and we ate Fritos and the rest of my mother’s lemon squares. It was so good.

Chapter 41

Conrad

The day Belly went home, I went to visit Ernie, the old owner of the seafood restaurant I used to bus tables at.

Every kid who ever went to Cousins knew who Ernie was, just like Ernie knew every kid. He never forgot a face, no matter how old he got. Ernie had to have been at least seventy years old when I worked there in high school. His nephew John was running the place now, and he was a prick. At first he demoted Ernie to bartend-ing, but Ernie couldn’t keep up, so John had him roll silverware. John ended up cutting him out of the business completely, forcing him into retirement. Sure, Ernie was old, but he was a hard worker, and everybody loved him.

I used to take smoke breaks with him outside. I knew it was wrong to let him bum a cigarette, but he was an old guy, and who can really say no to an old guy?

Ernie lived in a small house off the highway, and I tried to go out and see him once a week at least. To keep him company but also to make sure he was still alive.

Ernie didn’t have anybody around to remind him to take his medicine, and his nephew John sure as hell wasn’t coming by to visit. After John pushed him out of the business, Ernie said John wasn’t his blood anymore.

So I was pretty surprised when I pulled onto Ernie’s street and saw John’s car on its way out. I parked in front of the house and knocked once before I let myself in.

“Did you bring me a cigarette?” Ernie asked me from the couch.

It was the same thing every time. He wasn’t even allowed to smoke anymore. “No,” I said. “I quit.”

“Then get the hell out.”

Then he laughed the way he always did, and I sat on his couch. We watched old cop shows and ate peanuts in silence. During commercial breaks, that was when we’d talk.

“Did you hear my brother’s getting married next weekend?” I asked.

He snorted. “I’m not in the ground yet, boy. ’Course I heard. Everybody’s heard. She’s a sweet girl. Used to curtsy at me when she was little.”

Grinning, I said, “That’s because we told her you used to be a prince in Italy but then you became a mafioso.

The Godfather of Cousins.”

“Damn straight.”

The show came back on, and we watched in comfort-able silence. Then, at the next break, Ernie said, “So are you gonna cry about it like a punk, or are you gonna do something?”

I almost choked on my peanut. Coughing, I said,

“What are you talking about?”

He made another snorty sound. “Don’t be coy with me. You love her, right? She’s the one?”

“Ernie, I think you forgot to take your meds today,” I said. “Where’s your pillbox?”

He waved me off with one bony white hand, his attention back on the TV. “Simmer down. Show’s back on.”

I had to wait until the next commercial until I asked him casually, “Do you really believe in that? That people are meant to be with one person?”

Shelling a nut, he said, “Sure I do. Elizabeth was my one. When she passed, I didn’t figure a reason to look for another one. My girl was gone. Now I’m just biding my time. Get me a beer, will you?”

I stood up and went to his fridge. I came back with a beer and a fresh glass. Ernie had a thing about a fresh glass. “What was John doing over here?” I asked. “I saw him on my way in.”

“He came to mow my lawn.”

“I thought that was my job,” I said, pouring the beer into his glass.

“You do a shit job of edging.”

“When did you guys even start speaking again?”

Ernie shrugged and popped a peanut into his mouth.

“He’s probably just sniffing around here so I leave him my property when I kick it.” He drank his beer and leaned back into his easy chair. “Eh, he’s a good kid. My sister’s only son. He’s family. Family’s family. Never forget that, Conrad.”

“Ernie, two commercial breaks ago, you told me that if I didn’t try and break up my brother’s wedding, I a punk!”

Picking at his teeth, Ernie said, “If a girl’s the one, all bets are off, family or no family.”

I felt lighter when I left Ernie’s house a couple of hours later. I always did.

Chapter Forty-two

It was Wednesday, just a few days before the wedding.

Tomorrow, Taylor and Anika were coming up to Cousins, and so were Josh, Redbird, and my brother. The boys were going to have their so-called bachelor night, and Taylor and Anika and I were just going to hang by the pool.

Between Denise Coletti and Taylor, the wedding was pretty much ready to go. The food had been ordered—

lobster rolls and shrimp cocktail. We had Christmas lights for the deck and yard. Conrad was going to play a song on the guitar when I walked out with my dad. I was going to wear the jewelry Susannah had left me; I was going to do my own hair and makeup.

Everything was coming together, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something I’d forgotten.

I was vacuuming the living room when Conrad pushed open the sliding door. He’d been surfing all morning. I turned off the vacuum cleaner. “What’s wrong?” I asked him. He looked pale, and his hair was dripping in his eyes.

“Wipeout,” he said. “I got cut by my fin.”

“Bad?”

“Nah, not too bad.” I watched him limp over to the bathroom, and I ran over. He was sitting on the sill of the tub, and blood was soaking through his towel and running down his leg. I felt woozy for a split second.

“It’s already stopped bleeding,” Conrad said, and his face was as white as the marble counter. He looked like he was going to pass out. “Looks worse than it is.”

“Keep putting pressure on it,” I said. “I’m gonna get some stuff to clean it.”

It must have really hurt, because he obeyed me. When I came back with hydrogen peroxide and gauze and Bactine, he was still sitting there in the same position, his leg in the tub.

I sat down next to him and straddled the sill, facing him. “Let go,” I told him.

“I’m fine,” he said. “I’ll do it.”

“No, you’re not fine,” I said.

Then he let go of the towel, and I pressed down on it. He winced.

“Sorry,” I said. I held it for a few minutes, and then I peeled the bloody towel away from his leg. The cut was a 212 · jenny han

few inches long and skinny. It wasn’t bleeding as heavily, so I went ahead and started to pour hydrogen peroxide on the wound.

“Ow!” he yelped.

“Don’t be such a baby, it’s barely a scratch,” I lied. I was wondering if he was going to need stitches.

Conrad leaned in closer to me, his head just barely resting on my shoulder as I cleaned. I could feel him breathing in and out, could feel each sharp intake of breath every time I touched the cut.