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The suits were truly massive. They were vaguely flesh-colored, maybe a MAC NC30 or so, and filled with so much air and foam they pretty much stood up on their own. The colored wrestling belts were attached to them, and they had attached neck pads, too.

We held on to the bright yellow ropes of the sumo wrestling ring while we stepped into our suits. The guy in diapers helped us pull them up over our shoulders. As soon as I let go of the rope, I started to tip over.

“Whoa,” I said. I grabbed the rope again.

“Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down,” Sean Ryan said.

“Remember that?”

“Oh, grow up,” I said.

The guy in diapers pointed at the red mat, which took up most of the ring. It had a large blue circle in the center. “Stand in blue. Bell ring. Push each other out. Step on red, other guy win.” Belatedly, I remembered I’d never liked organized sports.

Before I had time to say anything, like
how do you get out of this
suit
, the bell rang. Sean Ryan pushed himself off the ropes and staggered into the middle. I held on tight. Sean Ryan flapped his arms like a giant sumo chicken and yelled something at me that I couldn’t hear. I let go. I grabbed the rope again. The diaper guy walked over to me.

“Wait,” I said.

He didn’t. He gave me a big push. I staggered until my sumo stomach collided with Sean Ryan’s. We bounced off each other and both wobbled a few steps backward. He caught his balance and staggered in my direction until we made contact again.

This time I fell back, all the way to the mat, and he landed on top of me.

Our padded vinyl stomachs worked just like a giant seesaw.

His feet went up in the air, and his mouth tilted down to mine.

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We were like two beached whales, and then somehow we were kissing.

He was a great kisser, even in a full-body vinyl suit. He tasted like coffee. I caught the faint scent of coconut, which was either his Paul Mitchell Extra-Body Sculpting Foam, or someone in the audience was drinking a piña colada.

We both leaned in the same direction at once, and we started to roll. We rolled over and over, picking up momentum until we crashed into the ropes on the side of the ring.

“Holy cannoli,” Sean Ryan said, his lips still inches from mine.

“Awkward,” I said. “But oddly hot.”

The crowd began to clap and cheer. “Ohmigod,” I said. “I hope that’s not for us.”

“Come on,” Sean Ryan said. “Let’s get out of here.”
I LEANED BACK
in the passenger seat of the Prius and fluffed up my hair. “Boyohboy,” I said. “It sure doesn’t take long to get helmet hair, does it?”

“Listen,” Sean Ryan said. “I’m sorry I kissed you.” I stopped fluffing. “Gee, thanks.”

“Can I finish?”

I nodded.

“Okay, I’ve got two things to tell you. One, I was in love with a married woman once. She went back to her husband. I think I knew all along she was going to, but I put a lot of time and effort into trying to convince us both that she wouldn’t. I don’t ever want to go through that again. So, you want to hang out, work on your kit, whatever, I’m in. But, that’s it.” Every bit of the hurt showed in Sean Ryan’s hazel eyes.

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I didn’t think I’d ever go back to Craig, but then again, until recently I didn’t think I’d ever sleep with him again either.

“Okay,” I said. I put my hand on top of Sean Ryan’s.

“Geesh, who made life so complicated anyway?” He pulled my hand toward him and kissed it lightly. We smiled at each other. “Thanks,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” I said. “Okay, what’s the other thing?” He closed his eyes. “You know the condo people who’ve been trying to get their hands on your father’s waterfront salon?” I nodded.

He opened one eye. “Well, I’m one of the investors.”

“What?”

“Yeah, well, you know, there’s a group of us. We buy up waterfront property and develop it. High-end condos, as green as we can make them and still be cost-efficient. . . .”

“So, get out of it,” I said.

“I can’t. I have a commitment to the other investors. It’s business. I shouldn’t even be talking to you about it.” I flashed on Sean Ryan’s waterfront house in North Marshbury. I wondered how much he’d paid off the poor old man who used to live there. “Ohmigod,” I said. “You really are a barracuda.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with buying property.”

“Take me back to my hotel,” I said. “I don’t want to be late for my nephew’s wedding.”

Nobody said a word the whole way back. Sean Ryan pulled the Prius over to the curb in front of Hotel Indigo. “It’s really not a bad thing,” he said. “Your father stands to make a ton of money. And we offer fair market value.”

“Yeah, right,” I said. “Before or after you call the health inspector?”

“What?”

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“You should be ashamed of yourself. Anyone who would call in a phony failed septic system is pond scum. Lower than pond scum. Do you know how much money it takes to put in a new one? And even if you have the money, how would you like a big grass-covered hump between you and your view?” Sean Ryan wrinkled his forehead. “What are you talking about?”

I slammed the car door in his face.

• 28 •

I TURNED AWAY FROM THE CAR WITHOUT LOOKING

back and stomped into the hotel. Cannoli and Indie were in the lobby, so I put them on their leashes and walked them a few blocks down Peachtree Street. I found a little froufrou doggie boutique and bought them each a treat, but I was too angry to enjoy the walk. We headed back to the hotel, and Indie came up to hang out while Cannoli and I got ready.

I took a scalding hot shower and scrubbed myself so hard with the washcloth I was lucky I had any skin left when I finished. I slathered myself with the whole little bottle of Aveda Replenishing Body Moisturizer I found in the bathroom to make up for it. I blow-dried my hair and made up my face. I put on my stupid pretty new dress.

I’d been planning to wear a bold red called Frankly Scarlett on my lips. I couldn’t wait to tell everybody what it was called when they told me how great it looked. Instead, I rolled on a pinkish copper called Kiss My Lips. That wasn’t the only thing Sean Ryan could kiss, as far as I was concerned.

I brought Cannoli into the bathroom, so she’d have some privacy from Indie, and helped her into her cornflower blue taffeta bubble bridesmaid dress. At least there was still a chance for canine love this weekend.

I was a little bit late getting to the lobby, where I probably could have hitched a ride to the wedding with someone in my family, so it looked like I’d have to find my own way to the 216

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church. The Hotel Indigo owners raved about Cannoli’s dress, maybe because it was blue, and invited her to spend the night at their house. They promised to have her back at the hotel by checkout time. I thanked them and headed out to grab a cab.

“Good luck,” one of them yelled after me. “I hope they found a priest who speaks Northern.” I found out what that meant soon enough. Catholic weddings with a full Mass are long enough, but Southern Catholic weddings with a full Mass are practically forever. Tulia turned around in her pew and flashed me a thumbs-up, so apparently things on the ring front had worked themselves out.

Maggie was adorable in her soft yellow dress with a big satin bow. She was clearly having a blast throwing yellow rose petals in front of her as she walked behind the other flower girls.

Andrew looked so handsome standing across from Mario and Todd. I tried to get a clear picture of Julie in my mind, and to think about what it would have meant to her to have lived to see her son get married, but all I could think about was how much Andrew had grown to look like Mario and Todd. His posture was just like Todd’s, and he smiled exactly like Mario.

I wondered if Lizzie, Luke, and I had spent enough time together that they sometimes reminded people of me.

Amy was gorgeous in a taffeta A-line dress with a beaded bodice. It had a pickup skirt, which made me think of the peaks on a lemon meringue pie. It was an unusual color, just the barest hint of gold, which I could never have worn, but it worked beautifully with her golden hair, blue eyes, and warm skin. Her bridesmaids had dresses in a deeper copper, and Mario and Todd and the groomsmen all had copper taffeta handkerchiefs in their tuxedo pockets.

I sighed. The ushers had seated me next to Angela and her family, but I suddenly felt conspicuously alone. It didn’t help Summer Blowout

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that Sophia and Craig were in the pew ahead of me. The priest droned on and on, and I ignored him, something I’d been doing pretty much since I’d first set foot in a church. Angela’s and Tulia’s families went to church regularly, but the rest of us avoided it whenever possible. The Catholic Church felt the same way about most of us, so it seemed like we were even. I couldn’t have been married in it even if I’d wanted to, since Craig was divorced. My father was divorced times three, and Mario was gay.

We were lucky they hadn’t stopped us at the door today.

My parents were sitting in the front row, just ahead of Tulia and Mike. They’d probably hate each other again by Monday, but I found myself holding my breath as I watched them. Sitting or standing, they leaned lightly against each other, hands clasped together. I wondered again what it would have been like if they had stayed together. I wondered if I’d ever meet someone I’d still be drawn to four decades later.

Mack and Myles were in miniature versions of the groomsmen outfits, each holding a ring on a copper taffeta pillow.

Myles was rocking back and forth, watching his ring, then looking up at the people in the pews and grinning.

My stomach began to growl, and I started to wish I’d forced myself to eat at least a snack. Finally it was time for the vows.

Andrew spoke up loud and clear, and Mario and Todd and the rest of us beamed at him. Amy did a great job, too, and I loved the way they both smiled a lot and looked like they weren’t taking themselves too seriously.

Andrew nodded at Mack. Mack walked over and held his pillow up. Andrew bent over, pulled the ribbon that held the ring in place, and picked up the ring. He took Amy’s hand. “I give you this ring,” he said, “as a symbol of my love and faith-fulness. As I place it on your finger, I commit my heart and soul to you.”

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My eyes teared up. One part of me wanted to believe they’d stay together forever. But the other part wanted to jump up on the seat of the pew and warn them. I mean, sure, they were in love now, but what were the chances a wedding ring was going to keep one of them from breaking the other’s heart?

It was Amy’s turn. She nodded at Myles.

Myles turned around and took off like a baby bat out of hell, running just as fast as his stubby little legs would carry him.

Everybody gasped, and the collective intake of breath filled the church.

“Mack, Maggie, I mean
Myles
,” Tulia yelled.

Myles put his feet together and managed two-footed jumps down each of the three steps of the altar.

A few people let out sharp bursts of laughter. We were all standing on our tiptoes and leaning toward the aisle, so we wouldn’t miss anything.

Myles started churning his legs again and headed down the center aisle.

My father leaned out of his pew and caught him as he toddled by. He held Myles up in the air over his head while we all cheered. My father passed him over to my mother, then tried to take the pillow out of his hand. Myles let out a bloodcurdling scream. My mother whispered something in his ear. He let go.

My father held the copper taffeta pillow at waist height. He took his time, walking up to the altar in an exaggerated step together, step together. He climbed the three stairs the same way.

When he came to Amy, he knelt down on one knee, bowed his shiny bald head, and extended the pillow.

Everybody burst into applause.

The thing about my father is that he never knows when to quit. He stayed on the altar until the priest pronounced An-