Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Hell, I’m not only standing. I’m dancing. Singing.
I’m in love.
So I throw back my head and sing too, even though I don’t know the words. Greer laughs so hard she trips over her skates. I catch her. She “accidentally” gropes my ass.
I quite intentionally grope hers.
“I told y’all,” Porg says as he wobbles past us, arms outstretched. “No fucking PDA!”
Greer sticks out her tongue at him. Then she grabs my face and kisses me. A noisy, sweet smacker of a kiss that makes me wobble.
I don’t realize how much we’ve slowed down until someone crashes into us from behind.
“Shit!” Nicky grabs my hips to steady himself. “Sorry, sorry!”
Keira, who’s wearing a pair of snazzy glow-in-the-dark rollerblades, grabs his hand. “Jesus, Nicky, you’re going to hurt someone. I told you not to drink and skate.”
Greer gives my hand a squeeze. “Hey, the DJ is waving to us. I think it’s time to make your speech.”
My heart twists. Instinctively, I glance toward the glass doors of Kate’s entrance.
Nothing.
My parents really aren’t coming.
The music stops. The DJ announces me. I prepared a speech, but I didn’t want to read off a piece of paper. So I go over the most important bits in my head as I skate toward the microphone, Greer at my side.
“You’re going to do great,” she whispers. She keeps her hand in mine.
Good. I couldn’t do this without her. She listened to me practice this damned thing so often she offered to step in and say it for me if I got too emotional to finish.
“I know it by heart,” she’d said.
“You are my heart,” I’d said back.
“Brooks gone mushy,” she’d replied. “I love it.”
I have gone mushy. Which is why I have to clear my throat a half dozen times before I can speak into the microphone.
“Thank y’all so much for coming,” I begin. “I feel like I’m the last guy on earth who’d ever put on a Lovefest, but. Well. Here we are.”
A few chuckles erupt from the crowd. Porgeous cups his hands over his mouth and shouts, “We love you! Also, can you please stop touching my sister for five seconds?”
“No,” I reply crisply. “I love you too, George. You’re like a brother to me. Have been since you showed up at Lizzie’s funeral. That’s what you do for the people you love—you show up. I didn’t—” I clear my throat again, eyes beginning to sting. “I feel like I didn’t do a great job of that for my sister while she was alive. But I’m trying to do it now.”
Someone—Ian, I think, or Theo—lets out a whistle. Greer rests her head on my shoulder.
“Growing up, Lizzie and I would come to Kate’s to skate every Friday night. Lizzie loved this place. She loved music, she loved to get moving. We learned how to skate together. It used to piss me off how much better she was at it than I was. Then again, she was the athlete in the family.”
“Says the D1 rower who almost made the Olympic team!”
My heart drops into my stomach. I scan the crowd. That voice—
My eyes land on a blonde at the back of the rink.
Mom.
And beside her, Dad. Margaux is at his elbow. She smiles.
Everyone turns to look at them. Mom is beaming, eyes shining. Dad—well, I can’t read his expression. But he’s here.
Greer squeezes my hand. She waves. Mom waves back.
When did they get here? How did I not see them come in?
A voice answers. Because you were too busy ogling your lady love, butthead.
Lizzie.
“I told you!” Greer says, wobbling on her skates in excitement. “I knew they’d come.”
I put a hand on her stomach to steady her. Then the tears spill over.
We’re all here. All four of us in the same room for the first time in a decade. Lizzie, Mom, Dad, and me.
There’s a new member of the family here too.
Five of us. Together.
“Hey, Mom,” I manage. “Hi, Dad.”
To his credit, he raises his hand in greeting. “Hello, son.”
Somehow I get through most of my speech. One by one my friends come stand beside me. First George. Then Ian and Margaux. Then Nicky. Theo.
It’s when Mom comes to stand beside me that I really lose it.
Running a hand across my back, Greer gives me a look. You want me to take over?
I nod and hand her the microphone.
“Hey, y’all. I’m Greer Fieldstone—”
“Your baked goods are the bomb!” comes a shout. I smile when I see it’s Nora.
Dad sees that it’s her too, turning his head in her direction. No doubt he’s impressed. Nora’s a superstar at the bank. To see her publicly support Greer like that—
No doubt it’s making him think twice about calling her “that muffin girl from the tweeties”.
Greer laughs. “Thank you! I hope you enjoy them. Brooks worked really hard to get this event—and the foundation—off the ground. He had to really dig deep and open some old wounds to get here. Which, for an old man like him who’s set in his ways, is no small feat.” More laughter. A few catcalls, which I wave away with a stupid grin. “The money we raise today will go a long way in aiding at-risk children and young adults receive the help they need. Help Brooks was able to get as an adult when he needed it, which is how he came up with the idea of using the foundation to address mental health issues in the first place.” She turns to me. “I’m so damn proud of you, baby, for not only asking for what you needed. For not only teaching me how to ask for what I need. But for paying it forward the way you are. So let’s raise our glasses and toast the best damn host, brother, boyfriend, and friend.” Somehow a pair of full, ice-cold beers appear in my hand and Greer’s. She raises hers, looking me squarely in the eye. “Lizzie’s Lovefest is something special. So are you, Brooks. It’s an honor to be part of your story.”