Higher Ground (28 page)

Wade and I humor them by letting them buy a round of Lagavulin. I wait until the waiter walks away to let Van have it. “Scotch?” I laugh. “Oh, my God. You’ve turned into Dad.”

“Blasphemy!” he teases, knowing I’m right. “You like Scotch, too. And I’ve had it with Wade before. I was aiming to please.”

“I do like it,” I say. “Thank you.”

He looks at me first, then Wade. “I’m glad y’all are here. It wouldn’t be the same without you. This is all last-minute, and I’m sorry for that.”

“I’m glad we’re here, too.” I grip Wade’s hand on the table. “It’s much better for Miss Verity this way, and I haven’t had beignets in almost three years. It’s good to be home.”

The drinks arrive, and Van raises his glass to clink it against mine. “It really is.”

We stay until my cheeks are warm and Wade’s fingers are curled in my hair. He finishes his third, turns the glass upside down, and says, “I’m done, fellas. You’re much younger than me, and I’m already going to have a hangover tomorrow.”

They’re in the mood for dancing, but Wade and I aren’t. There’s a conversation hanging over our heads that I’d like to have before the reception, and we may not have much time alone tomorrow.

“I think we’ll walk for a while,” I say. “We’ll catch a streetcar or a cab.”

“Are you sure?” Corey asks. “We can go home now. It’s no big deal.”

“Have fun.” I step forward to hug him. “We’ll see you later.”

We part ways, and I instinctively turn toward Jackson Square and the river. Wade holds my hand but doesn’t speak. Occasionally, he stops and pulls me under his arm while he looks in the windows of shops. St. Louis Cathedral is lit, and there are two groups of tourists paused out front.

I tell Wade the stories they’re hearing but add details I’ve read in books throughout the years.

Ghost stories are my specialty.

People look at me like I’m crazy when I stretch my fingers to run them across the wrought-iron fence as we walk. I’ve done it dozens of times before, and the same eerie stillness settles in my chest tonight when I stare across the street at the famous shop where I lost my heart to Oliver. “That’s Café Du Monde,” I say.

We stop at Decatur Street to breathe in the aroma of Chicory and watch the hustle and bustle. When the light turns, we cross and walk past the French Market until we can see water. Riverboats and barges are visible in the moonlight. “I saw Troya yesterday. We met for coffee and talked for a few minutes.”

“About Oliver?”

“And other things. She told me how he died.”

“You didn’t know?”

“I knew it was an overdose. He was in a car accident about a year before and had to be airlifted to the hospital. I saw people praying for him and raising money on social media. I heard he was getting better, so it was a shock when Van posted that he’d died. Troya told me how, and it’s worse than I imagined. His son was there when it happened.”

“That’s awful,” Wade says.

“I should’ve told you a long time ago—before we started or when we started. Before now. It was a conversation I didn’t know how to have. I didn’t want to lose you.”

“
This
is because I love you.” He lifts my hand and holds my ring between his pointer finger and thumb. “I’m hurt, yes. I’m angry. I wish you’d trusted me sooner. None of that means I don’t love you.” He uses his other hand to pull me close until his lips are against my hair. “Love isn’t conditional, Violet.”

I pull my hand away and wrap both arms around him. “I’m trying to believe that,” I say.

“Believe it.” He uses his fingers to tilt my chin and bring my face closer to his. I watch his lips until the moment they’re about to touch mine and then let my eyes slip closed. His kiss is soft, honey-sweetened with liquor and sugar, and his fingers land at my hips to pull me closer.

“I love the sound of the ocean, because I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you around 3:00 in the morning on the beach in Florida,” I say. “It was a Tuesday, and we both slept until noon. You were the first thing I thought of when I woke up the next morning, and you’ve been that first thought every morning since.”

He slips his arms around my waist. “I almost kissed you that night.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I chickened out.”

“I guess it worked out best this way, even if it took us a little longer. Maybe it made us stronger.”

“I think it did,” he says.

We walk back to the bright lights and hail a cab a few streets over from Bourbon. He slides in beside me and holds me close during the ride back to my parents’ house, pointing at various Christmas decorations along the way. The house isn’t dark or silent like I expected it to be. Ronnie, Will, Miss Verity, and Dad are in the family room watching a Bing Crosby movie. We peek in to say hello and get suckered into staying up with them until it ends in the early hours of the morning.

Sleeping late is a mistake. My mother barges into our room close to 11:00. “Violet, you have an appointment with the stylist in less than an hour. Shower. Now.”

“Mom, Wade sleeps in his underwear.” I sit up in bed. “Get out.”

She turns and leaves, still barking instructions on her way out the door. “If you’re not in the shower in ten minutes, I’ll be back.”

There’s no point in arguing with her. She’s a special events drill sergeant from Hell. “Shoot me,” I say to Wade while searching for clothes in my bag. “She’s going to be a nightmare today.”

“You sure you want to get married here?” he says, joking to offset my crabbiness.

“No.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Let’s see how today goes, and I’ll get back to you.”

“Do they have plans for me, too?” he asks.

“I’m not sure, but if you go downstairs, I guarantee Miss Verity will feed you. She’ll know what’s going on.”

He kisses me outside the bathroom door on his way down, and it’s the last peaceful moment of our day. We see each other briefly in the kitchen before I’m whisked away by my sister and grandmother. Miss Verity smuggles a couple of muffins in her bag and gives them to me during the ride. Since our spa treatments include mini-massages, too—thanks to Dad—it’s a blessing.

We return to Dufossat well after lunchtime, and the whole house has been transformed. The tables are set, and the catering staff’s already hard at work.

At 4:00, Mom sticks her middle finger and thumb between her lips and whistles. “Time to get dressed.”

The game of Chase Zoey grinds to a halt, and the children stand, stunned into silence. The chitchat also stops, and we all hit the stairs.

The guests start arriving shortly after 5:00, almost an hour prior to the start time listed on the event page. Most of the early birds are family, like aunts and uncles from Florida. Grandpa Bull had to cancel because of a gout flare-up, but Van’s not letting it get him down. He smiles and keeps a firm grip on Corey’s hand.

Wade sticks close to me, and I introduce him to the people I recognize. Troya walks through the front door as the grandfather clock in the family room chimes a sixth time. I’ve seen her husband tagged in pictures with Van. He whispers something in her ear that makes her smile and kiss his cheek.

They stop to talk to Van and Corey, and I squeeze Wade’s hand. “That’s Troya.”

He looks over at her for a moment and then back at me. “Is this going to be weird?”

“God, I hope not.”

Troya smiles when she spots us, stops to say a quick hello to my parents, and then walks to where we’re standing. “Nice party,” she says to me. “Much classier than the ones we used to go to.”

“True.”

“Violet, this Dylan. Dylan, Violet.” She waves her hand between us.

“This is Wade,” I say.

Troya catches my left hand in hers, raises it for another glance at my ring, looks at Wade, and says, “That’s a damn fine rock. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” His arm relaxes, but he doesn’t let go entirely.

A member of the event staff walks by with a tray of champagne. “Hold up,” Troya says. She takes two flutes and hands one to me. “Cheers.”

After that, it’s easy. We talk about jobs and lives and Van, and it’s all going well until Penn arrives. I try to remind myself that he’s an old friend and nothing more, but he’s also seen me naked, so that complicates things. He’s flying solo, completely at ease in a fitted blue suit and working the room with his smile.

Troya saves me by making introductions, and I watch as Penn reaches out to shake Wade’s hand. He turns to me next. There’s one tense moment of my past colliding with the here and now, but Penn eases it with a laugh and a friendly hug. “It’s been a while,” he says.

“Only a decade,” I reply.

Troya asks if we’re planning on attending our reunion next summer, and Penn’s quick to answer that he is. She looks at me, and I grimace. “I was only there for one year. You guys and Celeste were my only friends.”

“I get it,” she says. “I went to school with most of those people for years, and I still haven’t decided if I want to go to mine next year. If Van goes, I will. If he skips it, I probably will, too.”

Eventually, my brother and Corey find their way over to us. It’s an awkward reunion for a moment, the four of us in one place. There’s a silent acknowledgment of who’s missing and then talk of other, happier things.

There’s food and gossip, toasts and dancing. Zoey steals Wade from me more than once, but he always finds his way back to me. When I need a break from the smiling and performing, we sneak upstairs to my parents’ office.

Troya finds us inspecting their bookshelves. “Let’s try to see each other again while we’re here,” she says.

“I’ll call you.”

“It was good to meet you,” she says to Wade.

“You, too.” She waves on her way out, and he’s quiet for a few moments. “She’s nice,” he finally says.

“She was one of my best friends.”

“I can tell.”

“Thank you for coming here, for doing this with me.” I take a step forward to put both hands on his chest. “I was okay by myself,” I say. “But I’m better with you. I always have been.”

“I had to be here,” he says, wrapping his arms loosely at my waist. “It’s where you are.”

“I want us to be okay.”

“We will be.” He leans forward and rests his lips against my cheek for a moment. “Maybe not tomorrow or soon, but we will be. A love
more than love
, remember?”

A warmth I’ve never known blooms in my chest, and for the first time, I know that telling him was the right choice. We’ll get through this.

Not because he says so or because it’s in the cards.

But because it’s us.

Because it’s real.

The amount of support I receive daily is amazing. If it really does take a village, I have an awesome one.

The biggest thank you goes to my sister. Maria, you said I could do this. You’ve listened to every idea, encouraged every thought, and kept me brave. I love you, and I’m lucky you love me.

Steve, thank you for cheering on this crazy ride and having faith in me. Thank you for twenty-four years, for the lessons in love—good and bad—and for this life I wouldn’t trade. I love you.

Trev and Stevie, thank you for keeping it real. You both challenge me and amaze me every day. Being your mom is the hardest job I’ve ever had, and it’s also the best. I love you two more than anything else in this world, and I always will.

Dad, you taught me how to bait my own hook, how to throw a football, and a million other things. Thank you for making us the center of your world. I love you always.

Ginger, we’ve survived Girl Scouts, poofed bangs, the nineties, marriages, and children. I’m thankful for every time you talked me into things that could’ve killed us, for all the times you’ve made me laugh through my tears, and for saving me from myself. I couldn’t have picked a better partner in crime.

Lori, you are one of the most supportive and loving souls I’ve ever known. I’m glad I get to be near your light. You and G are my sisters in every way but blood.

Alex, I miss you. Please find your way back to us.

Brett, ours is one of my weirdest friendships, for sure, but I’m glad we’ve managed to keep it together all these years. Thanks for being my NOLA dude.

Iris, there are no words. None of this would be possible without you. You were my friend long before you became my editor. Thank goodness for those late-night conversations on Twitter. You’re one of the most selfless and truly beautiful people I know. Thank you a million times over for every single thing.

Nic, I know you’ll forever tease me about stalking me, so you should know I’ll always be glad that you did. You’ve been a rock, made me smile, and held my hand when I wanted to run away from it all. Thank you for pre-reading and loving Violet and Wade. Love you to the moon and back.

Sara, I’m blessed to have found a friend in you. We’ve talked religion, politics, and all the things we’re not supposed to talk about, and we still love each other. You’re genuine to the core. Thank you for reading this as a work-in-progress and pushing me along.

Alli Z, thank you for being my friend, my Atlanta person, and for pre-reading. The next time I see you, we’re going to sit for a while and have a beer together.

Viki and Joanna, thank you for double-checking my French. Or maybe I should say, “
Merci
.”

Jiff and Jenny Kate, thank you for answering my silly questions about how to make all of this happen. I couldn’t have done it without y’all.

Thanks to Jada for an amazing cover and to Jill for making the inside look pretty.

And last, but certainly not least, thank you, fandom, for stoking this fire. You’re an incredible group of strong, intelligent, beautiful women. Y’all are my people, my village.

Nan Lowe grew up in Memphis with barbeque and blues in her veins. She’s married to her high school sweetheart and is raising a son and daughter in a tiny town north of Graceland that has more cows than stoplights. Half farm girl and half city chick, she’s a little bit country and a whole lot of rock and roll. Most days, you’ll find her reading, writing, plotting, or listening to Pearl Jam, usually with a dog or two on her lap.