Page 82 of Headstrong Like Us

My brows furrow. “What does age have to do with it? You’re my sister, Kinney. I want you to be my groomswoman. If that’s something you want.”

“Of course,” she snaps like I’m an idiot. Her chin trembles, and she rubs at the corner of her eye. Smearing dark liner. “This means…everything.” She clutches the box to her chest, careful not to crush the orange tulip inside.

The small card says:Kinney, will you be my groomswoman?

Xander reads his. Less surprised. He already knew I was going to ask him. But I’ve been building myself up for the possibility that he might sayno.

Being a groomsman means he has to be in the wedding ceremony. Guests will stare at him, and I can’t change that or make it easier.

But God, I want him up there with me.

He’s my brother.

“Summers? I know it’s a lot—”

“Yeah.” He winces. “I mean,yeah, definitely—I want to be a groomsman. I’m there.” He smiles, a rare one.

My smile overwhelms me, just really happy, and I stand up. I hug my younger brother and sister, and as I go back to my seat again, this next parttenses every muscle in my body.Hurtcascades like pain in my bloodstream.

Luna eyes the two opened boxes with tulips and cards. “You asked Sulli to be your groomswoman already, right?”

“Yeah,” I say tightly.

When Sulli opened her gift box, she gawked. “Fuck…are you fucking serious?”

“I’m dead serious,” I told Sulli.

Her jaw kept unhinging. “Really? Fuck, Moffy.Really?”She started crying, and it choked me up, big time. We were hugging, smiling, and now I’m thinking about Luna.

Because she’s somber and sullen at the dining table. Like she believes that Sulli is more of a sister to me than she is, and it’s cutting me open.

Some of you believe that—out of my siblings—I’m closest to Xander because we’re the guys in the family, and that Luna and Kinney are besties because they’re sisters.

You’d be wrong.

Luna and I have always been the closest, and Xander and Kinney have their own thing. I have memories with Luna that supersede a lot. She was my first sibling, and as a kid, I loved taking care of her. Helping her out of the car seat, giving her my blanket when she was cold. I was so damn protective of her.

Still am.

Watching water gather in her eyes is tearing a crater-sized hole in my chest. But Farrow and I talked a lot, and we knew this was the right choice.

“Luna.” Farrow draws her attention to him. “Hold out your hand.”

Luna scoots forward and extends a hand across the table.

“Palm up,” Farrow adds.

She turns over her hand, and he places the tiny card on her palm, already flipped to his handwriting in black Sharpie.

Be my groomswoman?

Luna wipes her tearful gaze. “Me?”

Farrow smiles softly. “You’re the one holding the card.”

Her eyes drift to me.

“We fought over you,” I tell my sister. “It took hours.”