“He did agree. And don’t worry. I know when I meet your dad and mom in person, they’ll both fall in love with me hard and fast. Like you did,” he teased, then brushed a strand of hair away from her eye. “And you’re sure you’re okay waiting to post on your socials?”
After the proposal, when Zach and Olivia started talking about who they’d call first, Zach had asked her if she could wait, not wanting his mom to find out that way. “My mom follows my accounts like a hawk,” he’d said and run his finger along the sensitive part of her arm, tickling her.
“She’s on more than Insta and Facebook?” Olivia asked, thinking those were the only two platforms most parents were on, if any. Her mom had zero social media. Olivia had to screenshot her Insta posts to share them with her.
“She has them all!”
“Even Snapchat?”
“Yep.”
“Huh.”
“My mom says she’s on all of it because of her job, but I think it’s to stalk me.” Zach laughed, but Olivia wasn’t sure he was joking. His mom sounded like a lot. She hoped she wasn’t.
“Speaking of hard and fast …” Zach’s lips brushed against her ear now. “We could skip dinner and stay in.”
“We could.” She kissed him, then pulled back. “But we’d miss the pizza. That mozzarella. Those fresh tomatoes. The basil …”
“Are you choosing pizza over me?” he said in an Italian accent.
“No, of course not. Well maybe a little …” Olivia laughed. “But I promise you some action after dinner. You’ll be my dessert,” she giggled, thankful they’d moved off the topic of moms and dads and quick engagements.
“That was so cheugy. That sounds like a line from one of your romance novels,” he teased.
“First of all, you are cheugy for even saying cheugy, which is so out now. And number two, those authors are way better at sexy dialogue than I am. Obvs.”
As they walked out the door into the warm night and headed down the brick-paved street toward the restaurant, Zach grabbed Olivia’s hand, careful to dodge the stream of fast-moving cars that could barely fit on the narrow road. She tilted her chin toward the sky, letting the stars dazzle her once more. It was in this moment, as Zach kissed her forehead and pointed to a cluster of stars he called Capricornus, that she fell in love with him all over again.
* * *
Nine time zones over, June brewed a pot of the overpriced organic shade-grown coffee that promised to reduce the bloat she’d felt since entering her late forties. She wanted to blame the chemical-laced beans she’d drunk for years for the unyielding bulge in her gut but had a feeling it was more complicated than that. She was unwilling to give up the glass or two of pinot grigio she sipped each night as she listened to waves hit the beach a few blocks away, so she held tight to the belief that the coffee company and their beans sourced from a shady mountain in Colombia would eventually solve her gastrointestinal issue.
June finished pouring the dark liquid into two Yetis and settled into the black wicker love seat on her front porch with her friend Fiona, who had been waiting patiently for the engagement scoop. June had bought the outdoor sofa at the boutique down the street from the small bookstore All Booked Up that she owned on Second Street, the touristy enclave of Long Beach. It burst with lively open-air restaurants, colorful candy shops, and dive bars that satisfied both the families and university students who lived side by side in the adjacent neighborhood. Belmont Shore held many juxtapositions—it was quaint but also modern. It was both quiet and loud. Small yet big. And in these contrasts, June had married and divorced and raised her two daughters. It was, for better or worse, her forever home.
Fiona took a sip and smiled. “You always have the good stuff. Now,” she said, leaning in. “Tell me everything.”
June played back her second conversation with Olivia as Fiona listened, interjecting with a few thoughtful questions but mostly letting June talk. She’d met Fiona years ago when she’d first opened her bookstore. Fiona had strode in with golden hair that reminded June of a palomino. Fiona ended up spearheading All Booked Up’s first official book club, and their shared love for losing themselves in stories had made them fast friends. The first time June walked into Fiona’s living room and saw a dog-eared copy of The Devil Wears Prada on the coffee table, she knew this was a woman she could connect with. They’d bonded over their shock at the Gone Girl twist and celebrated the ensuing popularity of the unreliable narrator. They’d secretly confided that they’d love to have a few drinks with Joe from You, even though he was a serial killer. June could always count on Fiona thinking the book was better than the movie. In short, Fiona was the first real friend she’d made in a long time. So of course she was her first call after Olivia’s bombshell.
“I came on strong,” June admitted.
“Like your coffee,” Fiona quipped.
June cringed. “Stronger! I asked a lot of questions … and maybe made some passive-aggressive remarks disguised as jokes?”
Fiona considered this. “Interesting. You hate to make people uncomfortable. Especially the girls. Do you think it’s because of how your mom reacted to your first engagement?”
Leave it to Fiona to hit the nail right on the head. She owned the adorable flower shop three doors down from the bookstore, but June had always thought she’d make a great therapist.
“Maybe,” June said.
“You are not your mother, June. But be careful. The more you push back, the more you’ll push her away.”
June knew she was right. She had tried to be objective, to separate her past from Olivia’s present. To shake off thoughts of her own mother, Eileen, and her reaction to June’s first engagement. But it had proved nearly impossible. With every word June spoke to Olivia, her mother’s voice became more pronounced in hers.
Chloe poked her head out the front door. “Hey, Fi! I put aside the new Blake Crouch for you.”
“That’s so sweet, thank you. I’m excited to read it.”
At twenty-one years old, Chloe was taking classes part-time at Long Beach State and working at the bookstore. June’s ex-husband, William, had been prodding June to force Chloe to produce a five-year plan, but June secretly enjoyed having her youngest daughter living and working with her.
“So, your sister is engaged!” Fiona said, glancing sideways at June.
Chloe clapped, her blue eyes bursting with excitement, her sandy-brown ponytail swinging. “It’s so romantic!”
“It is romantic,” June echoed. And she meant it. She hadn’t forgotten how in love she’d been when she got engaged the first time. The intoxication of having an unwritten but exciting future.
Chloe continued, “Where do you think they’ll get married? I hope it’s on the beach. Or maybe Las Vegas? Or will they return to the scene of the crime, so to speak?”
“I think they have plenty of time to figure it out.” June laughed softly.
“I’m pretty sure Olivia wants to start planning right away. Get married sooner than later,” Chloe said.
“What?” June asked. Fiona put her hand on June’s arm so she wouldn’t say more.