Page 229 of Sinful Like Us

I smile. “Now I’m ready.”

We leave the regal mansion, entering a late-March warmth. Spring has come very early this year, and we bathe in the temperate weather.

He slips his hand in mine, and we walk past a baby blue Land Rover, parked near the fountain.

My Volkswagen Beetle was too damaged in the fire to salvage, and so yesterday, I bought Thatcher a car for his Christmas present, and he chose the color for me.

Our vehicle sits very pretty, I think.

We descend the driveway. Pink tulip trees blooming on either side, and I glance up at Thatcher, his flannel shirt hiding the burn on his shoulder.

It’ll scar, but he’s said the pain has lessened. And I take comfort in that fact. Tony was released from the hospital at the same time as Thatcher, and the rumor is that he’s being transferred to Security Force Alpha.

Where he’ll be the bodyguard to Connor Cobalt—my brilliant, cutthroat dad. Who can make the tallest men feel infinitesimally microscopic and tiny.

With that behind us and so much ahead, the air sings with a newfound happiness. We reach the neighborhood street and stroll towards the music and voices at the end of the cul-de-sac.

We’re not the only ones en route.

Farrow and Maximoff step onto the road with Kinney perched on Moffy’s shoulders, her black combat boots thudding his chest. They leave the Hale house along with Luna and Xander. Like us, they’ve chosen to temporarily reside at our childhood homes. Just until we choose a new place to live.

They smile at Thatcher and me.

Luna waves a neon-green pompom, one I made for her long ago, growing up, and I realize Moffy, Xander and Kinney have their makeshift pompoms in hand too.

I laugh into a tearful smile, and I look up to Thatcher, who has such light in his eyes. And he’s the one to tell me, “Today is a happy day.”

“It is,” I nod.

We trek forward, and I hear Kinney ask her older brother, “Why are you so slow? Walk faster.”

“I could run, Kinney, but you’d scream—”

“Huh, I’m afraid ofnothing.”

He sprints forward, whooshing past me, and Kinney shrieks.

We all laugh, and that laughter blends into the packed cul-de-sac where Thatcher’s big Italian-American family is among all of mine—parents, siblings, aunts, uncles and cousins. Plus, Omega bodyguards are here as friends. Grilling out burgers and cheesesteaks, music flowing into the bright blue sky. Beers are chilled and sipped.

They turn and smile at our entrance.

This is our engagement party.

Thatcher and I exchange another readying look. We go around and greet all his relatives and all of mine. My parents congratulate us, both near tears, though my mom will vehemently deny it, and then my dad tells me that I was quicker than him. To accept love. He rarely admits to being second-best at anything, so his words swell my heart.

I squeeze Thatcher’s mom, stepmom and grandma tight, and they kiss my cheek. I even meet his dad, who flew in from Coronado where he trains Navy Seal recruits.

He hugs Thatcher, and as they catch up, I find my little sister at a dessert table, a lacy umbrella shielding the sun from her fair skin.

Near the end of the table, Winona and Sulli burst into laughter, cupcake frosting smudged on their noses and cheeks. I smile. It’s not a real party until the Meadows sisters shove cupcakes in each other’s faces.

Audrey drops a pink pompom and the parasol once I clasp her hands. We jump up and down and chant to each other, “Beautiful, gorgeous, ravishing.” We kiss each other’s cheeks, and when we slow, I take her pompom and touch her nose.

“This was orchestrated?” I wonder, referring to the pompom. I’ve quickly realized that all the ones I made specifically for my cousins and siblings are in their possession today.

“Yes, we had to create a new mega-group chat, one without you, but it all went according to plan. Except forEliot. He says he lost his pompom somewhere.” She leans in close to whisper, “I think he burned it years ago, and he just doesn’t have the heart to say. Especially since Tom’s ribbon is singed.”

Sure enough, Tom has been enthusiastically waving around a charred pompom. Nearby, Beckett gives him awhat the fucklook. Ben holds his mustard yellow pompom by his side, and Charlie makes an effort to casually shake his in the air like he’s ringing a bell.