Page 57 of Say You Will

Bronwyn narrows her eyes, but Charlotte has risen and moved to the center of the room to put an arm around my shoulders.

Charlotte’s blonde hair, several shades darker than Bronwyn’s, is tucked into a headband, and she’s wearing blue and green plaid flannel. She’s always been so down-to-earth. To me, this is what “normal” is supposed to be.

“Do you remember the pajamas I got for you when you were little and came for your first sleepover with Bronwyn?” she asks.

I nod. It was right before the divorce when I still lived with my parents. “I told you my father wouldn’t let me keep them, so you saved them for me at your house.”

These cute dachshund pj’s feel like those ones did, not in fabric or design, but as though, by wearing them, I’m being rebellious, in the warmest, happiest way possible.

Charlotte scrunches her face up with a nose wrinkle. “You wore them until your ankles showed. I gave you bigger ones, but you didn’t want to give up those ducky pajamas for the longest time.”

I smile and lift one shoulder. “They made me feel like I was home.”

Charlotte squeezes harder. “You’re always home with us.”

Emotion rises up inside me, fast and painful. The McRae’s aren’t my family, no matter how much I tried to pretend they were when I was a child.

I hug Charlotte back as Bronwyn says, “I’m sure it didn’t occur to Henry how bad buying an unrelated woman sleepwear would look.”

Charlotte laughs. “Bronwyn, Henry has always been thoughtful. They probably reminded him of Oliver. No one thinks your brother is attempting to seduce Franki with cartoon sausage dogs and fleece loungewear. They’re friends.”

Everyone laughs, including the elder Mrs. McRae. Charlotte has a point. If Henry’s goal were seduction, I imagine something sexy would be the order of the day.

I attempt to shift her focus. “So, what have we got to work with?”

“Scrapbooking over here. Jewelry-making supplies on the table over there.”

Bronwyn holds up a handful of photos. “I’m finally putting my wedding photos in an album.”

I peer over her shoulder, and she spreads them out on the table. They’re all what I assume are cellphone photos. Bronwyn and Dean look so happy. It gives me a pang because I know what happened next and how much they both went through. If I’d seen these, I’d never have doubted her relationship in a million years. “The way he looks at you with his heart in his eyes . . . I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.”

“I felt so guilty that you guys weren’t there.”

“Don’t waste time on regrets. We should organize a big anniversary party for you guys. Then we’ll celebrate.”

She wraps an arm around my waist. “That’s a perfect idea.”

“So, what did you wear under the dress?” I ask.

Janessa calls from the sofa, “If you say anything other than Agent Provacateur, I won’t believe you.”

“You don’t need to know about my knickers,” Bronwyn says.

“Aha! Then it was definitely AP,” I say in triumph.

She laughs and shoves a box across the table to me. “If you don’t want to scrapbook.”

I open the box and grin as I pull the thread and beads out. “When was the last time we made friendship bracelets?”

“Too long. Remember when we used to FaceTime while we worked and mailed them to each other?”

“Of course, I remember.”

“Yours were always the best,” Bronwyn says.

“Seriously,” Janessa agrees. “You made the rest of us look like kindergartners.”

I shake my head, but I smile at the memory of how they wore my bracelets until they fell off. After which, they each texted me photos of their bare arms and begged me to send them new ones.

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