Ethan and I exchange a challenging look, and then Ethan gives up and returns to eating his cereal as I take a soothing gulp of my coffee.
“You said Caroline and Dean were here?” I ask Lila as I sit down at the table.
Lila nods as she stirs her coffee. Her hair is pulled back in a short ponytail and she doesn’t have any makeup on. “They were, but I told them you were going to be a minute so they went over to your house and I told them I’d send you over when you came out.”
Out the window, I see there’s a large maroon SUV parked in the driveway beside my house, just behind the Firebird. “Is that their rental car?” I ask.
Lila shakes her head. “No, they drove here because Caroline didn’t want to fly. I think it’s their car.”
“I guess he got rid of the Porsche then,” I say, adding a drop of milk to my coffee.
“Probably because they’re about to have a baby and there’s no room for a car seat in a Porsche.” Lila smiles and then takes a gulp from her coffee mug. “Caroline’s belly is so cute.”
Ethan shakes his head, his eyes wide as he fixes them on his cereal. I glance over at Micha, who’s watching me while he leans against the counter, sipping his coffee. When he pulls the mug away from his mouth, he licks his lips. I know him well enough to know that he’s attempting to read my reaction, not just about the Porsche—my mom’s old car—being sold but because Lila’s talking about babies.
I rise to my feet and look at Micha. “Do you want to come with me and say hi or something?”
Micha nods and moves away from the counter for the back door. We grab our coats and tell Lila and Ethan we’ll be right back, and then we head over to my house. Thomas’s old truck is parked in the driveway behind Micha’s Chevelle and there are shoe prints in the snow, leading from Micha’s steps to the fence. Then they pick up on the other side of the fence, heading to the stairs of my house. I can’t help but smile because it probably means Dean and Caroline took our little path to the house.
I point down at the tracks. “Hey look, all the cool kids are doing it now,” I joke.
Micha grabs the top of the fence and hops gracefully over it, landing in the snowbank on the other side. “I’d rather they not. I like that it’s our path and I want it to stay that way.”
“Me too,” I agree, sliding my fingers around the icy metal fence and hoisting myself up. Halfway over, Micha grabs onto my h*ps and helps me to the ground, setting me in the driveway so I don’t sink in the snowbank.
We tromp through the snow to the house and walk inside, the air smelling like cinnamon again and perfume, along with a hint of bacon. There are pans on the stove and there’s coffee brewing in a pot on the counter.
I should have prepared myself more because as soon as we enter, Caroline practically starts jumping up and down. She’s wearing a flowing purple dress and her black hair is braided. The fabric of the dress stretches over her protruding belly and even though I try not to, I can’t help but stare. Dean is sitting on the table, his feet propped up on a chair with a newspaper on his lap. He’s dressed in a collared shirt and slacks and I still can’t get used to the look. Growing up, all he would wear were old T-shirts and jeans and he even dyed his hair blue once.
“Oh my God, there you two are,” Caroline says excitedly, clapping her hands with enough energy to power the entire house. “Congrats, you two.”
“Thanks.” I force myself not to get awkward and I let the nice moment be, even though deep down I feel uncomfortable with the positive attention.
She pauses. “Ella, what happened to your face?”
I cup my swollen cheek. “I got into a small fight, but nothing major.”
“Just like old times,” Dean remarks with a shake of his head.
“Well, I hope you’re okay,” Caroline says, examining my cheek.
“I’m fine,” I assure her. “The swelling will go down in a day or two.”
“Good, then it’ll be gone for the wedding.” She leans in to hug me and I uncomfortably hug her back, feeling her belly press against mine. When she moves away, she notices me staring and places her hand across her stomach.
“It’s going to be a girl,” she says and Dean glances up at me with a strange look on his face that I can’t decipher. I wonder if he’s freaked out, too, at the thought of children, if he’s worried he’ll end up like our father, drunk and nonexistent. I could ask him, but we’re not to that place yet.
“Congratulations,” I say to both of them.
“Thanks.” Dean folds up the newspaper and tosses it into the table by the cookie jar. He’s quiet for a moment and I seriously have no idea what the hell’s going to come out of his mouth. “You too.”
I’m surprised by his simple remark and I miss a beat before I respond. “Thanks.”
“This is going to be so good,” Caroline says, whisking over to the counter to a plate of eggs and bacon. “A wedding outside at Christmas time near a lake. I can only imagine the pictures I’m going to get to take.” She starts munching on the bacon.
“It’ll be freezing though,” Dean says, stating the obvious as he hops off the table and then strides up to Caroline and circles an arm around her waist. “You sure you don’t want to have it inside? We’ll all be freezing our asses off by the end of it.”
Micha and I exchange a look and then we both shake our head. “No, cold temperature or not, I’m not having it anywhere else,” I tell Dean, and Micha squeezes my hand. “It’s important.”
“Okay,” Dean says, confused. “I guess we’re having an outdoor wedding. But who all’s coming.”
“Me, Micha, Lila, Ethan,” I ramble off the list, counting down on my fingers. “Micha’s mom and boyfriend, you and Caroline obviously, and Dad… and maybe his girlfriend.”
“Oh yeah,” Dean says as he kisses Caroline’s shoulder. “The secretary.”
“So you knew about her?”
His shoulders rise and fall as he shrugs. “He mentioned it on the phone a couple of weeks ago.”
He never mentioned it to me. “Oh.”
Sensing my downward mood, Micha takes my hand and gives me a soothing kiss on the cheek, his unshaven jawline rough against my skin, but comforting at the same time. Dean doesn’t seem to notice at all that something’s bothering me and it’s not his fault. He doesn’t know me like Micha does—no one in my family does.
“That’s not very many people,” Caroline says, picking up a fork from off the plate. “Are you sure you don’t want to have more? I mean, you’ve got to have some more old friends still around who’d like to come to it. I know it’s short notice but people might still come if you invited them.”
I shake my head. “I don’t have anyone else I want to invite.”
She frowns down at her eggs as she stabs them with the fork. “What about you, Micha?”
“I’m good with just Ella there,” Micha answers, hugging me against his chest. “No offense, but I really don’t care if anyone else is there.”
Caroline sighs as she takes a bite of the eggs. “Well, I guess we’ll start planning then.”
“Lila and Micha’s mom have already done a lot,” I tell her. “I don’t think there’s that much left to do.”
Caroline smiles at me as Dean lets her go and heads to the fridge. “Oh, Ella, there’s always more to do,” Caroline assures me. “Trust me.”
And she’s right, but only because I’m not planning the wedding myself. If it were just me, I’d have Micha, me, the minister, and no one else. The wedding would take place somewhere serenely beautiful like at a private beach or in a field of violets. I would wear something punk/gothic and Micha would wear black with his leather bands because he always looks so God damn sexy when he wears all black. And there would be no vows, just exchanges of “I do” and a kiss.
But I’m not planning the wedding myself. I have a whole team of people who are eager to make everything beautiful and sparkly.
I end up spending the rest of the day with Lila, Caroline, and Micha’s mom in the next town over so that Micha’s mom can pick out a dress. Caroline buys one too and then purchases a necklace for me to wear even though I tell her I don’t need one. She tried to buy me a veil at first but there was no way in hell I was going to walk around with a piece of cloth on my head attached to a diamond tiara. So she ends up buying these clips that have black roses in them to match the dress and then we go to a cake shop and order a cake. The whole thing is getting a little too fancy for me, but I let them go crazy because it’s making them happy and it’s not really hurting anything. Thankfully, Caroline has the same sort of gothic style as me and orders a black- and red-striped cake with this lace on the bottom and red roses on the top. It matches the red and black ribbons and candles we already have for decoration, which Lila insists we can string up on the tree branches, although I’m a little doubtful they’ll stay up, especially if it’s snowing.
At the end of the day, I’m exhausted, but in a good, strange sort of way, like I may have accomplished something important, like finally committing to the wedding by being part of the planning. Plus, I’d always wondered what it would be like to have people in my life, even though I actually wouldn’t admit it aloud. A few years ago, if I was capable of looking forward and seeing myself getting married, I’d imagine myself taking everything on alone and being miserable the entire time, feeling lonely and empty.
But right now I feel whole, yet still sad because there’s one person missing from the scene. Someone who can’t be here and it makes my heart hurt because if it wasn’t for my mistake she might have been. I know my mom’s death wasn’t my fault but it took a lot of therapy to get there and despite the fact that I’m not holding onto my guilt anymore, I still know deep down in my heart that perhaps if I would have stayed home that night, my mom wouldn’t have taken her own life and maybe, just maybe, she would have also been out shopping for wedding stuff with me.
When I get back to Micha’s house, Micha, Ethan, and my brother are still gone, looking for tuxes to rent at the last minute, even though I suggested they all just wear black button-down shirts. As Lila, Caroline, and Micha’s mom get situated in the kitchen, ready to tie more ribbon and put candles in the glass jars they bought, I decide that I need to go visit the cemetery. So I grab my sketchpad and a pencil and bundle up in my coat, gloves, and boots.
When I return to the kitchen, Micha’s mom turns around from the sink and notices my outdoor attire. “Ella, where are you headed?” she asks, scrubbing down a plate with a sponge as she holds it under running water.
I tuck my sketchpad under my arm. “I need to go somewhere.”
She looks out the window at the cloudy sky and then at the microwave where the time blinks 4:02. “But it’s getting dark and colder.”