Alexandra looks toward the contents of the box. “I know he wasn’t the best with communication. But he was so incredibly proud of you.”
Renner and I stay for the rest of the day, laughing with Alexandra and the girls. They’re a riot, especially Lily. The way she squeezes her eyes shut and tosses her whole body back when she finds something amusing is so reminiscent of Dad, it makes my chest ache.
I’m an admittedly awkward potato. I don’t know exactly what I should say, or even know, about the past thirteen years. Of course, Renner handles the situation like a champ. I don’t know why I’m surprised by how good he is with Lily and Marianne. He doesn’t even hesitate when Lily asks if she can put butterfly clips in his hair.
It feels good to be here with them. All of them. It’s familiar somehow, and frankly long overdue. Because they’re pieces of Dad I never had. And even though I can’t claim to know Dad well, it feels like this is something he would have wanted.
“Thank you for coming with me. It meant a lot that you were here today,” I tell Renner when we get in the car. The sun is going down now, painting the sky a hue that reminds me of cotton candy.
“I’ll always be here for you, Char,” he tells me.
We drive in silence for a couple more minutes before I turn to him. “I don’t want to go home yet.”
“Who says we have to?” He gives me that wink. The wink only he can pull off. “We’re adults now. We don’t have a curfew, remember?”
“Well, it is late.”
“All right, now you sound like an old lady.”
“I told you. I’m a proud geriatric.”
“Char,” he says, leveling me with his look. “We can do whatever we want.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Ninety percent of stress can be avoided with planning and forethought. That’s my mantra.
I’ve never entered a situation without a plan. I used to lie awake at night, spinning with hypotheticals about how I could mitigate risk in my life. Maybe if I study another hour, I can ace that exam. Maybe if I go over my list for the student council bake sale one more time, we can avoid hiccups.
So I’m very much a fish out of water at a roadside thrift store called Dead People’s Stuff.
It caught Renner’s eye on Fairfax’s main street en route home from the lake house. Its bright-blue paint stands out among the red-bricked historical buildings. There’s also a life-size cutout of Chucky, the creepy redheaded serial killer doll, in the window.
“So what are we looking for?” I ask Renner. While it isn’t a large space, they’ve managed to pack clothing and miscellaneous items in every nook and cranny. Everywhere you look there’s something odd and obscure. Like the beaded dream catcher dangling from a shelf of assorted snow globes.
Renner tosses an arm around my shoulder as we stroll under the watchful eye of the raven-haired, purple-lipsticked owner. “Our objective, if you choose to accept, is to find each other the most ridiculous outfit possible for our wedding-that-won’t-actually-happen.”
“Oh, I was born for this.” I squint around the chaotic store, already plotting.
My eyes pivot to a black-and-white cow-print vest. It actually feels like real cowhide. Horrified, I stuff it back on the rack.
Renner gives me a look. “Not my color?”
“Not enough drama for you,” I conclude, turning on my heel. Usually, I have a methodical way of shopping. I scour every rack from the right side of the store to the left. But today, I’m content to let my heart guide me wherever it wants to go.
Renner can see from my expression that I’ve taken our mission very seriously, so we part ways in our search.
Then I see it. The perfect over-the-top-ridiculous Renner outfit for our wedding-that-will-not-be. The top is a plain white triple-XL tee with a picture of an adorable golden retriever puppy in a basket. Below the puppy is the phrase You think you know fear? You think you’ve felt actual pain? For his bottom, I select red leather （bumless） pants, which I suppose makes them more like chaps, two sizes too small, paired with a turquoise gemstone belt. Then I find fuzzy brown slippers shaped like bear paws and a thick gold-plated chain with a statement medallion that reads Classy and Sassy to round out the full look.
Renner selects a long-sleeved rainbow leopard unitard that smells suspiciously of cough drops and reckless decisions with a floor-length trench coat that I’m certain was generously donated by a playground flasher. My accessories include a pair of infant-size oval sunglasses with microscopic red lenses and black chunky platforms with plastic fish in the heels. （He says I’m sure to bring platforms back in style.）