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“Good.” Grant smiles. “And seriously, consider our proposal. A lot has changed, and if you do decide to come, I’ll update you on all of it to get you back in the loop. ”

“Thanks, Grant. I would appreciate that,” I say with a smile. I can’t help all the questions floating around in my brain. What does he mean, things have changed? What could he mean? Am I curious enough to go on this trip to find out? I don’t know, and I guess that’s what I have to figure out.

“She’s going to be there.”

She . My stomach plummets at the mention of her. “I have to go.”

“Of course,” he says with a wink. “Have a great rest of your day, Hen.”

“You too, G.”

For the rest of the afternoon and all throughout my walk, the only thing I can think about is this very vague proposal that’s landed in front of me.

By the time I sit back down at my desk, the words still aren't coming, so I close my laptop and decide to wallow in a reread of one of my favorite books.

Now — September 2025

Grant: Have you made a decision yet?

Grant: Not to pressure you or anything, but I made a pretty killer PowerPoint full of all the stuff you missed. It has cool transitions and everything.

Oliver: If you block our numbers and never speak to us again, I wouldn't blame you.

Leo: Maybe just give him a little more time .

“Henry!” My sister shouting at me has me dropping my phone. It slams against my desk, the notepad I’m scratching on breaking most of the fall.

“What the hell, Luce?”

“Did you forget I was here or something? Mom dropped me off twenty minutes ago, and all I’ve been doing is rummaging around your pantry—which is empty, by the way.”

“I didn't even hear you,” I say, clearly still distracted by the decision hanging over my head. I wish I was using my brain for productive things like writing, but I can’t seem to figure out how to do that anymore. “I’m sorry, sis. I know we were supposed to hang out while Mom goes to the studio.”

Our mother is not only one of the best artists in Virginia, but she has a showcase coming up.

Since my sister just started school, I told my mom I could watch her while she gets in some time at the studio.

Plus, this way, I can spend time with my little sister, who I love more than myself most days.

Not only is she more extroverted than I am, but she’s grown into someone I admire.

She tells it how it is, and I’ve never been able to do that.

I’m always so worried about what other people think of me.

I think it’s the artist part of me. Yes, I write books for me and because I love it, but the other part of me secretly craves the validation I get when someone tells me they liked what I wrote.

I’m sure my mom can understand that side of being an artist.

At fourteen years old, my sister is all bark and bite.

I remember when my parents told me I was going to have a little sister.

It was the most excited I had ever been, and from the minute she was born, she became my favorite person on the planet.

Suddenly, I was someone’s big brother, and that alone made me want to shield her from every terrifying thing the world could bring .

Now that we’re older, we’re still as close as we have been. It’s weird seeing her grow up right in front of me, but I’m glad I’m still around so we can have moments like these.

“What gives, Hen? Why have you been so dreary lately?”

I put my pencil down. “Don’t you have homework to do?”

“I already did it,” she says as she saunters over to my desk. “What are you working on? Is that another book I’m not allowed to read?”

I laugh dryly at that. “You know why you’re not allowed to read them yet, and no, it’s not. It’s a list.”

“What kind of list?” Before I can answer, she grabs it from my desk in one swoop and starts reading it out loud. “Pros and cons of going to Oliver’s wedding. Who’s Oliver? I thought Mitch was your only friend.”

I swipe the list back from her. “First of all, ouch. Second, Mitch is my best friend. Thirdly, Oliver is someone I knew back in college.”

“Oh,” she says as she sits on the small chair in my office. “From Grand Mountain?”

“That is where I went to college,” I say to her.

I know why she’s being so coy about all this.

I never talk about college with my family.

All they know from back then is that I was dating Amelia one day and she was gone the next.

I didn't explain anything to them. I told them to never ask me about it.

I’ve been struggling for which side to put her on, but since I mostly have pros, I might throw her into the con column just to have a reason to not go.

But going might mean I’ll get the closure I’ve been chasing all these years. Or maybe it’ll bring up a whole bunch of other feelings I’d rather keep down. Maybe after we talk a little bit, I can move on and live the rest of my life without that hanging over my head.

“So, why wouldn't you go to his wedding?”

“Lots of reasons, Luce. ”

“Is it mainly because of her?” she asks me outright. “I know you don’t like talking about her, but—”

“I don’t, but she will be there,” I tell my sister. “Maybe I should go.”

Everything happens for a reason, right? That’s the motto I live my life by at the ripe age of twenty-five, and since they invited me, there must be some sort of cosmic reason I should take the chance and go.

I should bite the bullet that's inevitably headed my way in the form of Amelia Ellis, and maybe there’s a slight chance I can come out of this unscathed.

A small, minute chance, but everything she puts her hands on disintegrates immediately, and I wouldn't be surprised if she ruined me even further at this event that’s supposed to be about celebrating Paige and Oliver.

“You should,” she says, catching me off-guard. “Maybe it’ll be good for you to get out of this apartment and actually have a life.”

“Hey!” I throw a pen at her. “I have a life! I leave my house all the time.”

“Yeah, for like a month when you’re on a book tour, but other than that…” She trails off as she turns the pen in her hands. God, I forgot how blunt she can be for a teenager.

“Lucy, I can’t just drop work so I can go on vacation. That isn't really how my job works.”

“Hen, laptops are portable, you know! You’ve brought them on planes before, so I think a car ride will be okay.”

God, she’s right. At this point, I’m just looking for reasons to not go.

So, I crumple up my list and throw it in the garbage, affirming my choice to go to this wedding and confront the person who owes me a hell of a lot of answers. My current manuscript isn't the only unfinished story, and maybe confronting my biggest and toughest one might help the words flow again.

I guess I can only hope she’s grown enough in the past two years to want to give me the answers I’m rightfully owed. If not, maybe everything doesn't happen for a reason. Maybe some things are just meant to be left unsaid—unfinished.

In about two weeks, I’ll find out if our story is closed, the last words written on our page the ones we barely spoke that day in the airport, or if there are blank pages waiting to be written on with the words we have yet to speak.

Henry: Count me in.

Grant: Hell yes! Oh my God, I’m gonna bring my copies for you to sign!

Oliver: Welcome to the chaos, Hen.

Leo: Welcome back is more like it.