Under the Same Stars(90)

“Mads,” Austin hissed.

I shook my head. “I want to know, Austin. She’s been sulking since you guys got here, and anytime anyone brings up the wedding, it’s like she couldn’t care less or would rather walk Captain Hook’s plank than go through with it.” I looked at Katie. Her eyes were glassy. “You are my brother’s favorite person, Catherine, but these days, I’m having a tough time believing he’s yours.” I brandished my fork like a sword. “I mean, call it off if that’s what you want!”

Everyone sat there. Austin was glaring at me while our parents exchanged a look that screamed: Didn’t we raise our daughter to have manners?

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nana diplomatically rise from her chair, pick up her plate of pie, and gesture for her Man Friend to follow her out of the room.

“No,” Katie said, expression accusatory. “But that’s exactly what you want, Madeline, don’t you?” She looked at my dads. “That’s what all of you want, right? For me to call off the wedding?”

None of us got the chance to answer; Katie was too quick to detonate.

“I know none of you like me!” Her voice went up several octaves. “You’ve always been polite, but I know for a fact that you don’t like me or think I’m good enough for Austin!”

“Well, we don’t see you!” I shouted at the same time Dad said, “Excuse me? You know for a fact?”

Katie opened her mouth, but no words came out. She didn’t know which question to answer first.

I overpowered my dad. “Katie, you are physically present,” I continued, “but we don’t see you. You don’t show us who you are, or even part of who you are. It’s been years and I still can’t name any of your interests beyond reading, watching hockey, and writing detailed Yelp reviews for brunch places.” I swallowed. “Your mom told me you played field hockey in high school—why haven’t you ever told me that? Is it now a taboo subject or something?” I laughed. “Who cares if you didn’t play in college?” I held up my hands. “And music, it seems like you’re into music? I love music.”

“Mads, lay off,” Austin said when the last part came out a bit sarcastic. “Stop grilling her. She’s…”

“Shy,” Katie filled in the blank. “I’m shy, I’m an introvert, so you have no idea how intimidating it is to meet and connect with such an extroverted family. Especially one who loves each other as much as you guys do, who enjoys talking and genuinely being with each other as much as you do. It has been five years, yet I still feel like an outsider. I try, I really do, but I don’t even feel like myself when I’m here sometimes. And whatever version of me that is?” She shook her head. “She’s tired of trying to prove herself.”

Da kept his voice calm. “Katie, you don’t need to prove yourself—”

“Yes, I fucking do!” she exclaimed. “Or I was supposed to and failed miserably!” She wiped her eyes. “You tolerate me because Austin loves me, but you don’t approve.”

“What makes you say that?” Dad asked.

“I’m not Samira!”

Something grew thick in my throat. Katie—oh, Katie.

I’m not Samira.

“I know you all wish Austin was with her,” she continued. “I heard you say it.” She looked at my parents and me. “The first time I came to your Memorial Day cookout, I overheard you guys say how I was nothing like Samira, and how much you missed Samira, and then Mads said it didn’t matter if you didn’t like me because you all knew that they’d be together in the end.”

I gulped. My parents and I had said that. Memorial Day four years ago had been the first occasion we’d ever spent any real time with Katie, and we’d been so excited—maybe too excited. Because while we’d met Katie before, she was pretty quiet, and we were hoping a party would unleash the fun and loving person Austin wouldn’t shut up about. I remembered how my dads and I’d powwowed at the horse pasture when that hadn’t been the case.

“Katie, all of that is true,” Da said gently. “And on behalf of everyone”—he glanced at Dad and me—“I’m sorry.” He sighed. “We just weren’t sure what to expect, since the only girl Austin had ever seriously dated was Samira. We were presumptuous in thinking he might have”—he rolled his eyes—“a type. It turned out we didn’t know his type yet, because his type was you.”

“And when we said we missed Samira,” Dad added, “we meant that we missed her that evening. She was studying abroad that semester, so it’d been several months since we’d seen her. We missed her as a dear friend.” He turned to me.

“I meant what I said,” I admitted, blood thumping in my ears. “I missed Samira in our lives, and I wanted her to stay in our lives, and I wasn’t sure if that was possible if she and Austin weren’t a couple. And you’re right, I didn’t give you a fair chance because of it.” I closed my eyes. “I’m so sorry, Katie.”

Katie nodded, but she didn’t say it was okay; instead, she held up her left hand. The gleaming ice cube looked heavy on her finger. “This is a gorgeous ring,” she said. “But it’s not the ruby. Austin has told me so many stories about his grandmother, including how much she loved that ring. My heart dropped when he proposed because the ruby wasn’t in the box.” She shook her head. “You didn’t give it to him. Maybe you accepted that I’m not Samira, but I must still not be special enough.”