Page 62 of Wish For Me

I just stare at him for a moment, not even sure how to process this latest disaster. Then we’re both laughing, bent over at the waist and holding onto the banister for support.

“Were you doing drugs up there?” my dad snaps. “Did you give my daughter drugs?”

“No, Daddy,” I gasp out, holding my stomach. “We’re just enjoying being a bit of a mess.”

Suddenly Bodhi is bending again, but this time he lifts me up into his arms, holding me bridal style—appropriately enough—against his chest. “Kick the shoes off,” he says. “I’ll carry you to the start of the aisle runner.”

“I always wanted to get married barefoot in the winter.”

“I promise I’ll warm your feet up after the vows.”

“Anyone care to fill me in on what’s going on here?” my dad asks as Bodhi starts down the stairs.

“Follow us, Dad.” I sling my arms around Bodhi’s neck and grin up at him. “We’re going to get hitched.”

TWELVE

REED

“Here,” my brother Cash says, placing a whiskey glass in front of me. “You look like you need this.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, reaching for the glass and downing it in two gulps.

“Dude! That was Glenfiddich. You can’t just chug it like that.”

I glare at him over the glass. “I’m dealing with some shit here, man.”

He laughs. “Yes, of course you are. Your twenty-six-year-old daughter married a guy we’re all crazy about. They’re going to stay in the same house ten miles from you and come over every weekend for family lunch and basically nothing is going to change. Poor Reed.”

“Isn’t there another table you could sit at right now?”

He shakes his head, leaning over to squeeze my shoulder. “I know it’s not easy to watch them grow up. But there are advantages, too.” He points out to the dance floor, where a very unsteady baby Theo is toddling around following Poppy, who seems content to spin in her flower-girl dress for the foreseeable future.

“Oh, god, she better not be having a kid anytime soon.”

“Who?” Daltrey asks, coming over to plop down on my other side.

“His precious daughter.”

Daltrey leans back in his chair, hands going behind his head. “Nah, man. You don’t know what you’re missing. Grandkids are the best. It’s like playing with our kids all over again, but you get to give them back at the end of the night and have private time with your wife.” He waggles his eyebrows at me.

“Is he moping?” Lennon asks Cash, also taking a seat at our table. “I knew he was gonna mope.”

“I’m not moping. I’m just trying to enjoy a few minutes of quiet.” I glare around at them. “That was a hint, if you didn’t get it.”

“Oh, we got it,” Dalt says cheerfully.

“We’re just choosing to ignore it,” Cash agrees.

The music changes, shifting to the kind of pop crap that I hate but my wife and daughters can’t get enough of. It must be something they all know, because I watch as the four girls scream and grab each other’s arms as they start to bounce around.

“You’re really gonna be depressed?” Cash asks, his voice a little softer than normal. “When this is your life?”

I shake my head. He’s right. Those girls out there are the best thing I’ve ever done in my life—besides for marry their mother. I raised four daughters who are not only smart and talented and sweet and fierce—they’re also best friends. That means more to me than just about anything.

“Did you ever think we’d end up here?” Lennon asks after a few quiet moments where we all just sit and watch our kids out there dancing together.

“In Tennessee?” Cash quips. “No, I never thought I’d be hanging out on some random field before Farmer Dalt over here bought the land.”