Under the Same Stars(89)

Later, we waited for our food comas to subside by watching a movie, and afterward I took a shower and changed into a sweatshirt and pajama pants. “Hey, sweet tart!” I heard Marco shout as I carefully strapped up my boot. “Guess what?”

“What?” I shouted back.

“It’s snowing!” he said from outside his sister’s door. “Come on, I have your coat.”

Marco gave me a piggyback ride to the beach, his breath visible in the night air. I could feel my wet hair starting to freeze. Both of us had beach towels around our necks and I held a lantern to light our way.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” I whispered once we’d settled on our towels. We’d duct-taped a garbage bag over my boot so no sand would get in it. “Snow on the beach.” I turned to Marco, white flakes soundlessly falling around us and calming waves washing ashore. “I feel like I’m in a dream.”

He nodded before breaking into a wide grin, one that suggested his soul shined brightly within him. When I looked at Marco, the rest of the world blurred. “But it’s not,” he pointed out, then smiled and murmured, “I’ve never been so happy to be awake.”

His words sent a shimmer through me, one that rippled deep into my core and swirled into a long ache. “Yes.” I smiled and snuggled into his side. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

***

I thought of that night a couple weeks later, at the dining room table on Thanksgiving. Marco and I’d walked back to his house around midnight, and after he helped me into Carina’s bed, I’d convinced him to climb in so we could sleep together. The next morning, the snow had vanished—it hadn’t been cold enough to stick—and after French toast for breakfast, I cleaned up, and Marco shut off the water and did whatever other chores needed to be done to winterize the cottage. We’d hit the road around noon.

Most Novembers, my family drove up to Rhode Island to spend the holiday with Da’s side of the family. But this year, those relatives had decided to celebrate Thanksgiving on a Disney cruise. “No,” Dad said before the rest of our family got any ideas. “I am not having Mickey Mouse carve my turkey. No, thank you.”

“Trust me, Harry,” Da said. “We are in total alignment.”

This year’s group was small. Nana brought her Man Friend, and because she and Austin were less than a month away from getting married, Katie came, too. She and Austin had never spent Thanksgiving together before; it was the one holiday they refused to sacrifice.

I wouldn’t mind being in Boca right about now… I thought, glancing at the downpour outside. Rain, rain, freaking nonstop rain. From the trying-not-to-pout-but-totally-pouting pout on Katie’s face, you could tell she was missing her grandparents’ house.

Austin’s fiancée was miserable.

“The mashed potatoes are really good, Katie,” I said, to break the silence. Our dinner table conversation topics had all led to dead ends so far. “Where did you get them?”

“I didn’t get them anywhere,” she replied evenly. “I made them.”

“Oh.” I flushed. It wasn’t that I thought Katie couldn’t cook, but these potatoes looked and tasted like the product of a professional caterer. They were whipped to perfection.

“It’s her mom’s recipe,” Austin said quickly, “but Katie took over making them when she was sixteen.”

“Lucky us,” Dad said. “Lee knows everything about turkey and stuffing, but his potatoes have never been this good.”

“They’re better than yours, Harry,” Da countered.

The table laughed, but Katie smiled blandly before taking a sip of water. My heart wound into a knot. What’s wrong? I wanted to ask, because now that I knew Katie cared so hard, I cared so hard. If you miss your family, tell us you miss your family! We’ll understand!

Nana’s Man Friend brought up the wedding while the pumpkin pie was being sliced. “Are you having a band or DJ?”

“Band,” Katie replied. “We’re having a twelve-piece band.”

“It’s going to be fabulous,” Nana said. “Austin’s played me samples from their website.”

“Yeah.” Katie nodded. “They’re great…”

Nana’s Man Friend smiled. “What’s your song, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It’s called ‘Garden,’” Austin said, smiling. “It’s by this indie-folk band we love.”

“The band’s rendition is astronomically different than the original song,” Katie said. “But that’s how it is, so…” She trailed off into the distance.

“It’s still going to be incredible, Kates,” Austin said, then grinned like a lovestruck idiot. “We practice dancing in our kitchen every night. Neither of us is a good dancer, so we don’t want to completely embarrass ourselves.”

“Ah, yes…” Dad mused as I dove into my slice of pumpkin paradise. “You never did have a natural rhythm.”

I caught Katie roll her eyes.

And that, combined with the fact that she hadn’t touched her slice of Nana’s delightful pie, was the final straw.

“What’s bothering you?!” I blurted, and my family went silent. I took another bite of pie for a boost of confidence. “Seriously, Katie,” I said after swallowing. “What’s your deal?”