Page 21

Twenty-One

The day before Austin left for his bachelor weekend, he, Katie, and her parents came for dinner.

“Please be pleasant,” Dad told me before they arrived.

“I know things with Katie…”

Are horseshit?

I almost suggested.

“Dad, forget about pleasant,” I said.

“I’ll be nice .”

Da raised an eyebrow.

I shrugged. “ The Stacy Gallant will be here. You know it’s impossible to be anything but nice in front of Stace.”

Because really, Katie’s mother might’ve had hard opinions on food and home décor, but she was also the sweetest.

“Mm-hmm,” my parents said, as if they didn’t quite believe me.

I responded with my most dazzling forced grin and did play nice for the first half of the evening—if only because no one really spoke to me.

It was the Katie-and-Austin show, and it wasn’t a great episode.

“Are you all packed?” Da asked him.

Austin nodded. “I’ve been ready to go for a week!”

Dad and I exchanged a look.

Austin, for as long as I could remember, was a six-hours-before-departure type of packer.

The only thing that took him a week was un packing.

“He’s also checking a bag,” Katie said with the hint of an eye roll.

“He brought a carry-on to Paris, but he needs a suitcase for a long weekend in Jackson Hole.”

“Kates, I can’t fit a tent in a carry-on,” Austin responded as I thought about the pot calling the kettle black.

Katie had brought ten times more stuff to the Finger Lakes!

“I also need my waders for fly-fishing.”

“Oh, you’re going fly-fishing?” Mr. Gallant whistled.

“Damn…”

“You’re welcome to join, Marc,” my brother said.

“The more, the merrier.”

“Dad, no,” Katie said before her dad could even pretend to entertain the idea.

“The Devils have their first preseason game on Saturday.” She shook her head.

“No.”

Mr. Gallant chuckled.

“Relax, I’m only joking, Catherine.” His eyes twinkled.

“I was actually going to ask if you wanted to join me at the game?”

Katie kissed her dad’s cheek.

“Madeline!” Mrs. Gallant exclaimed.

“How is your bridesmaid dress?”

“Oh, it’s good,” I said casually.

“It’s gorgeous.”

“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” Katie’s mom beamed.

“Amanda looks sensational in hers.” She took a sip of wine.

“Is there any chance you’d give Katie and me a sneak peek after dinner?”

“I’d love to,” I said, stomach starting to swish.

“But I, um—it’s actually missing from my closet right now.”

Nana was still performing intensive surgery on the gown.

Austin, who knew about the dress’s seriously screwed-up condition, gave me a look that said: Bad wording, Mads.

“Excuse me?” Mrs. Gallant’s eyes widened.

“It’s missing ?”

“She’s joking, Stacy,” Da quickly said.

“Mads tried it on and it was evident that a few alterations were necessary.”

“Well, that’s nothing to worry about…” Katie said disinterestedly.

Her dad nodded just as disinterestedly.

“You took it back to Petal other tailors won’t be familiar with it.”

“Yes,” I lied.

“Yes, Nana and I went back so they could fit me. Just a few nips and tucks here and there.” I smiled.

“It’s so beautiful, though. Stunning for a Christmas wedding.”

“Seasonal,” Katie muttered.

“December fourteenth is seasonal , not Christmas.”

Austin covered his laugh with a cough, then raised his napkin to hide his smile.

“It’s totally a Christmas wedding,” he’d said recently.

“Everyone who has RSVP’d with regrets notes that they’re either traveling or had holiday parties that weekend.”

“And why did Katie pick that date again?” I asked.

“Didn’t you tell her it’s Grandma’s birthday?”

“Mrs. Gallant actually picked the date,” he said.

“Probably because St. Paul’s and Bedens Brook were available, but she thought it might be a sweet tribute, too.”

“Oh,” I said.

Because it was. It was a sweet tribute to our grandmother.

Just like Austin proposing with her ruby would’ve been a sweet tribute , I thought.

I felt a little bad about the ’tis-the-season teasing, but dinner was going twenty-five miles per hour and wasn’t speeding up anytime soon.

It was so boring that I nearly jumped for joy when my phone started pinging incessantly in my pocket.

Connor!!! the screen read.

“Hey,” I said after Da had given me permission to leave the table.

“What’s up?”

“Do you think I should rewatch Emily in Paris ?” Connor asked.

“Or start The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel ?”

“You aren’t allowed to start The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel without me,” I said, smiling.

“In fact, you promised .”

“Then will you come over so we can watch it?” Connor asked—no, whined .

“I need to become overly invested in someone else’s drama.” He went silent for a second.

“So I can forget about my own.”

I gripped my phone tighter.

“Wait, what do you mean?”

Connor sighed.

“Lauren and I broke up.”

Oh my god , I thought, suddenly unsteady on my feet.

“Oh my god!” I blurted.

“Con, are you okay?”

“I’m considering rewatching Emily in freaking Paris ,” he replied.

“Do you think I’m okay?”

I smirked.

“I mean, it’s not that bad a show…”

“ That bad?” Connor smiled; I could hear it in his voice, and it honestly gave me butterflies.

“Mads, it’s a melodramatic masterpiece.” He started shaking his head—again, I could tell because I knew him so well.

“ Allons-y, allons-y, allons-y !” he teased.

“Start assembling the snacks,” I told him, pulse picking up.

“I’ll be over in ten minutes.”

***

The McCallister household had always been a safe space to express your feelings.

Both Connor and Liam had never been afraid to share anything with their family.

I’d been sitting at their kitchen island the day Liam came home from sixth grade and announced that he had a crush on a guy from his math class.

“What’s his name?” Mr. McCallister asked, not fazed in the slightest. Connor was like that, too.

He’d outright told his mother about losing his virginity only hours after it’d happened.

“What?” he said when I’d gawked at him.

“She asked what I did this afternoon!”

So, neither effort nor tact was required to get him to tell me about Lauren.

He already had Netflix queued up on the basement’s gigantic seventy-four-inch flat-screen; I simply flopped down next to him on the couch, grabbed some peanut-butter pretzels, and then crunched and munched for a few seconds before he said, “I can’t really pinpoint who broke up with who, but we’re definitely done.”

“I’m sorry,” I half lied.

“Nice try,” he replied, then affectionately elbowed me.

“You hated her, but sure, we can pretend otherwise.”

I laughed.

“Did something happen? Or did things just run their course?”

“Both.” He sighed.

“I found out she’s been cheating on me—”

“What?!” I gasped.

“Yep.” He nodded. “For a couple weeks now.”

“With who?” I asked, incredulous.

Connor McCallister was Connor McCallister .

No girl in her right mind would risk wrecking that relationship.

“Robbie Nielson, funnily enough,” Connor said.

“The guy you wouldn’t stop sucking face with outside the gym.”

“Huh.” I comically scratched my head.

“That name doesn’t really ring a bell…”

Connor smirked.

That night, Robbie and I’d only jumped apart when we heard a chorus of laughter, whistles, and catcalls.

We’d turned to see people pouring out of the gym.

My face had gone up in flames, and I’d contemplated making a run for it until Connor had pushed out of his pack of lacrosse guys and walked over to offer Robbie a fist bump.

“Dude, Mads Fisher-Michaels? Well done!”

They pounded, and as if on cue, his teammates erupted into applause.

It had been beyond sexist, but I’d thanked Connor for defusing the situation.

“Anyway, I’m sorry,” he said now.

“He and Lauren pretty much started hooking up right after you guys…”

“No, it’s fine.” I shook my head.

“He told me that it was a casual thing. He said he thought I was cool, but he liked someone else.”

“Well, that’s shitty.” Connor’s brow furrowed.

“Were you upset?”

I shrugged.

“Not really. I thought he was a nice guy—until now, obviously—but I wasn’t bummed or anything.” I dropped my voice to a whisper, as if we weren’t the only two in the basement.

“I also needed to get Jacob Bluestein out of my system.”

“You guys kissed?” he asked.

I nodded.

“How was it?”

“Wet,” I said.

“Imagine making out with Arthur or Francine.”

Connor scrunched up his face, and I laughed.

“So basically, you and Lauren broke up because of her cheating?” I asked after we’d snuggled up under one of Mrs. McCallister’s chunky knitted blankets.

The AC had kicked on, and it always turned the basement into a meat locker.

“I guess,” he said. “I mean, of course. I never want to be a sidepiece or turn into someone’s sidepiece; I want to be the light of her life.” He winked.

My heart twinged, then twisted.

Maybe you could be the light of my life, I thought.

Because even through his high-maintenance girlfriends, Connor had always been there for me.

He made me smile, he made me laugh, and he made me feel seen, heard, and safe.

“I think I would’ve called it with her anyway,” he continued.

“Things have been off for a while. I can’t actually explain it, but I’ve been feeling antsy. Like I was with Lauren because I’m waiting for something that’s just not coming. I thought maybe if I broke up with her, whatever I’m waiting for would finally happen.” He rubbed his eyes, suddenly looking so tired.

“I know that makes no sense.”

“No, it does,” I said softly.

“I get it.”

“You usually do,” he murmured, and then it was silent between us for a couple beats.

Do it, I told myself, heart speeding up.

Say something.

“Can I ask you a question…?” I eventually said, because I had to.

I had to know.

He nodded.

I took a breath. “Did you ever—” I stopped short, pulse pounding too hard to speak.

“I mean, have you ever, maybe, thought about what it would be like if we were together?”

Connor slowly reacted.

“Yeah,” he said, lips spreading into a smile.

“Yeah, I’ve thought about it a lot.”

My stomach somersaulted.

“Oh.”

“You’re surprised?” he asked.

“A little,” I answered.

“You’ve never made a move…”

“Neither have you,” he pointed out.

We looked at each other and laughed.

“You also never seemed interested,” he added.

“You never gave me the chance,” I countered.

“You haven’t been single since freshman year!”

Connor chuckled.

“I meant you’ve never seemed interested in dating period .”

I shrugged.

“Field hockey remains my first love.”

He dramatically sighed.

“And Olivia Lupo was mine.”

“Fair,” I said.

“Although you are the boy next door.”

“And you are the girl next door.”

“Yes,” I joked.

“I think it’s required we date at some point.”

“Strongly suggested,” he agreed.

“I’d rather date you because you’re my best friend, though.”

“Same.” I grinned.

“Same here.”

“Good.” Connor grinned back.

“Now can I ask you a question?”

My smile was stuck on my face.

“Shoot!”

Connor’s was not; his expression turned solemn before he said: “Marco…”

Marco is some dickhead guy , I thought, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.

“Just a friend,” I told Connor, the technical truth.

“He was always just a friend.”

“That’s it?” he asked.

“That’s it,” I confirmed, wishing I didn’t feel like I was lying.

Why tell him I once had a crush on Marco?

Nothing had ever come of it.

If anything, I had Marco to thank .

He’d been something similar to a learning experience; flirting and confessing my crush on him and our fight this summer had actually given me the confidence to go for it tonight.

No matter what, I could go after anything I wanted.

Connor nodded, and I suddenly worried he was rethinking everything.

When he took my hand, my breath caught.

“I want to give things a try between us, Mads,” he said.

“Me too,” I agreed.

His smile reappeared.

“But I’d like to wait a few days if that’s okay. I don’t want this associated with my breakup with Lauren.”

“I understand,” I said, then gestured to the flatscreen.

“Shall we?”

“Yes.” He squeezed my fingers before letting go.

“We shall.”

***

My club team was thrilled when Connor made an appearance at our scrimmage on Saturday, and spent warmups checking him out.

“Mads, does he have a girlfriend right now?” one of my teammates finally asked during shuttles.

“Yes,” I said matter-of-factly.

“Me.”

And even though their hopes were dashed, they squealed like fangirls…

which was exactly how Austin had reacted before his Jackson Hole flight took off yesterday.

“Jeez, Austin!” I’d pulled my phone away from my ear.

“You just gave me some serious heart palpitations.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he quickly said.

“But this is so great, sis. He’s your best friend .”

“ I know ,” I mimicked him.

“I have to go,” Austin said.

“My zone is boarding now.” He sighed.

“I’m so happy for you, Mads. This is the way it should be.”

Samira echoed him in her texts; funnily enough, she was also about to fly somewhere.

That’s amazing , she’d written.

I can’t wait to see you two together!

Meanwhile, Da and Dad had spent half the drive to my game explaining new guidelines now that Connor’s and my relationship had shifted from friends to more than friends.

“No sleeping over unless you are in the guest room,” Dad said, “or on the couch with the dogs.”

“And if you’re in Mads’s room, Connor, her door must be at least halfway open,” Da added.

“No more closed-door movie nights.”

Our first official date was that night; Natalie had invited Connor and me to her hockey game, and he asked if I’d like to get dinner nearby.

The only reason I hesitated was because Natalie’s game was at Princeton’s ice rink.

There are so many restaurants , I reminded myself as I tried on a third sweater.

You aren’t going to run into him.

Slime suddenly coated the roof of my mouth.

I hated that I worried about seeing Marco.

Who cared? Who freaking cared?

Connor and I had finally had our “You Belong with Me” moment.

Even Marco himself had said that he thought we’d be good together.

At least, I think he had.

Maybe.

I was also happy ; I was happier than I’d been in a while.

We went to Winberie’s Tavern for burgers, and it was close quarters with all the Princeton students crowded around us.

We were practically dining with the couple next to us.

“Are you two freshmen?” a burly guy asked us.

Connor and I shared a silent snicker.

“Yes,” he said, taking my hand.

His palm was warm against mine.

“Cool, cool,” the guy said and then introduced himself and his girlfriend.

They were juniors. “Where’re you living?”

“We’re both in Forbes,” I answered as Connor excused himself to go to the bathroom.

I reluctantly let go of his hand, using it to ward away the midnight memory of me at Wawa—refusing to let Marco walk me back to Shelly’s room.

“Oh, yeah, Forbes,” he said.

“That’s…” He dropped off, bursting into laughter at something over my shoulder.

“Dude!” he called out.

“What the hell?”

“Seriously!” an excruciatingly familiar voice called back.

“Bit early in the night, don’t you think?”

My stomach soured hearing Marco’s footsteps come closer.

“What’s the deal?” his friend asked when he’d reached their table.

But Marco didn’t answer; instead, his face slowly drained of color, which made the burgundy stain on his shirt even more startling.

Had someone spilled their drink on him?

It reminded me of Stone Harbor this summer; his mother’s sangria had left him flushed, his face scarlet.

You are my favorite person, you know?

he’d said after Connor had gone to bed.

We were stretched out on the screened-in porch’s ropey rug, listening to the ocean waves crash against the beach.

My feet were on his lap, and I’d gently kick him every time he made me laugh.

He was still kind of drunk.

I mean it, Mads. Not only my closest friend, but honestly, my favorite person…

I was so obliviously obsessed , I thought.

So obliviously obsessed with him to see how obsessed he was with me.

Now, I wanted to get up and leave, but my stomach growled in protest. Connor and I hadn’t gotten our food yet.

“Long story,” Marco said, snapping back to attention.

“I’ll tell you at Tower later.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” his friend said, and Marco clapped him on the shoulder before making his exit.

Five seconds later, my phone buzzed with a text.

Please tell Connor hello for me , it said.

I’m really, really happy for you.

***

“This is weird,” I said, unable to stop myself from giggling a little.

“I know,” Connor chuckled, too.

“It’s definitely weird.”

We were standing on my front porch, procrastinating our good-night.

It was ten minutes past my curfew, but I knew my parents had heard Connor’s Jeep pull into the driveway earlier.

“Are you a first-date kisser?” I word-vomited.

“Because I feel like we should probably kiss.”

“Well, I know you’re a first-date kisser,” Connor said, then faux coughed, “Jacob…”

“Okay, rude !” I shoved him, then braced myself for a good-natured shove back.

But rather than friendly roughhousing, Connor wrapped me in a half-hug, half-straitjacket situation.

I smiled and settled into it.

“Sometimes I’m a first-date kisser,” he said, his heart beating steadily against mine.

“Sometimes I’m not. It depends on the vibe.”

I arched an eyebrow.

“What vibe are you getting now?”

“Clown,” he said.

“Clown vibe.”

I pulled back and stuck my tongue out at him.

He laughed and hugged me close again.

“I’d rather not be clowning around when we kiss,” he whispered.

“Yes.” I nodded. “I want to be swept up.”

“Oh, I’ll sweep you up.” He lightly kissed my forehead.

“You wait.”

“I will,” I told him.

“But you know I’m not known for my patience.”

Connor winked.

“Night, Mads.”

I winked back.

“Night, Con.”

***

I slept extremely but luxuriously late on Sunday, only to wake up to a text from Connor.

Morning! he’d written.

Let me know when you’re up!

We can do HW at Little Sunflower and then something fun?

I’m awake… I texted back, my timestamp reading 12:27 p.m. That sounds great!

“Hey!” I called once I started down the stairs.

I could hear someone moving around the kitchen.

“Do you guys want anything from the bakery? Connor and I—”

“No, it’s alright, it’s okay!” I heard Dad say in a firm voice that made my heart plummet.

It was the cadence he employed whenever Austin was anxiously amped.

“Relax, take a deep breath.”

I leapt the last five steps and turned to see Dad with his phone pressed to his ear, listening to whatever my brother was saying on the other end.

“I know you do, kid,” Dad said, “but going after her isn’t going to help.”

Wait, what?

I thought, alarmed. What’s going on?

Who’s her ?

Had something happened with Katie?

“Austin, take your scheduled flight home,” Dad said.

“We’ll talk more here, okay?”

They hung up a minute later.

“What happened?” I squeaked.

“Is Austin hurt?”

“No.” Dad rubbed his eyes.

“He is physically fine, but mentally shaken.” He sighed.

“Samira told him she’s in love with him.”