Chapter Two
Andy
A picture of my older brother Ian and his brand-new wife Sam, him in a navy-blue suit and her in a beautiful white dress, both beaming at the camera.
Next to them: me, alone, grinning awkwardly.
I clicked on the next photo. My younger sister Frankie and her husband Clive, along with their adorable baby daughter Elizabeth, who flashed her wide, toothless smile at the camera.
Behind them: me, alone, eyes closed against the flash.
Great, I thought. Next up . . . my oldest brother Nicky with his arm around his wife, Kresley, radiant smiles on both of their faces.
And me in the shot: still smiling, but alone.
I flipped to the next photo. My brother George, one arm around his fiancée Annie and the other around my shoulders. Annie beamed up at him like he hung the moon, while I clutched a plate with the remains of no less than seven canapes.
I nearly groaned out loud.
Tons of photos from Ian and Sam’s wedding reception and it seemed like in every photo of me, I was third-wheeling it with one of my ridiculously happy siblings.
“What do you think?” Ian said from over my shoulder. “Photographer did a great job, yeah?”
I looked up at my brother, whose olive skin still sported the deeper hue of his fading honeymoon tan, now several weeks old. “Absolutely,” I said. “You guys look incredible.”
I meant it—really, I did. Ian and Sam radiated happiness, both in person and in photos. All four of my siblings did. And then there was me, alone in the background, wondering if or when I’d find something like that for myself.
“I’m just glad Marnie didn’t come to the wedding,” Ian said, and almost as soon as it came out of his mouth, he winced sharply. “Sorry Andy, I—"
I waved a hand dismissively as I handed Ian’s tablet back to him. “Nah, I get it. We would’ve just fought the entire time and looked pissed at each other in the pictures . . . and then split up anyway.”
“C’mon, Ian, don’t pick at him,” Nicky said from my other side. “They just broke up.”
I reached out and wrapped my fingers around my beer bottle, callused skin sliding through the condensation on the cold glass. “It’s been two months,” I corrected my brother. “I’m fine, honestly.”
Nicky threw me a skeptical glance, but didn’t say anything else. And I was glad of that—my oldest brother had a way of poking holes in anyone’s bullshit, and I knew that if he pressed in just the right spot, I would crack and admit to him that I was lonely. That I didn’t miss Marnie or our relationship, which had mostly devolved into passive-aggressive sniping and outright fighting with zero upside, but I did miss going home to someone. A regular Friday night dinner date. Someone to curl up with on a chilly winter evening. And seeing my siblings every week for Sunday dinner at my parents’ house reminded me of what was missing in my life.
“What exactly happened with Marnie?” Ian asked as he tossed the tablet to the side. “Everybody told me not to worry about it because I was busy with the wedding.”
I shrugged. “Not much to tell, honestly. We were arguing a lot and we agreed that it was time to end things.”
The real story was considerably less flattering to Marnie, and maybe to me, too, but there was no point in rehashing it again. Not when Marnie was long gone from my condo, along with her clothes and furniture and kitchen appliances. Carved out so precisely that when I walked into each room, I could see where the stuff was missing, like a slice out of a birthday cake.
“Boys, go wash your hands,” my father barked out from the dining room, saving me from further conversation about Marnie. “Dinner’s up.”
Nicky wandered into the nearby half-bath while Ian and I clustered around the kitchen sink. While I scrubbed carefully at my hands, I still felt Ian’s eyes on me. Kind, but still watchful and curious.
“What?” I finally said as I rinsed the last soap bubbles from my skin and tore a paper towel off the roll. “Please don’t tell me that you feel bad for me.”
Ian held up his hands. “Look, I won’t pry anymore if you don’t want to talk about it right now,” he said. “I just want you to be happy. If you want to talk, I’m always around. So are Nicky and George.”
“George can’t keep his mouth shut,” I grumbled as I turned to head into the dining room.
Behind me, Ian just chuckled, because we both knew it was the truth.
The Pallas family table had grown crowded over the last year as my siblings paired up, and we had to squeeze in even tighter with the addition of Frankie’s daughter’s highchair. I had no idea how my parents would arrange it when more babies arrived. I wouldn’t put it past my dad to knock down the wall between the living room and dining room just to fit a longer table in here.
“Andy, did you see Ian’s wedding pictures?” Mom asked as I slid into the chair next to her. She held Ian’s tablet in her hands, scrolling through the hundreds of photos. “There are a lots with you in them.”