“So why didn’t you?” Seven asks.
I sigh, remembering Émile and how he swooped in like a savior. “An angel appeared.”
Seven loses his shit laughing. “Please tell me you don’t mean literally because that’ll be too much.”
“No. I’m exaggerating, but seriously, this guy was suddenly there, offering to be my date. It felt like … like … it was meant to be.”
“It might help if you start from the beginning,” Rush says. “Who was this guy and why would he care about helping you? I mean, no offense. You know any of us would have done it, but he didn’t even know you.”
I huddle deeper into the armchair. “He seemed to really hate it when I said my parents kicked me out and I haven’t seen them since.”
“Congratulations,” Gabe says in a dry voice. “He meets the bare minimum expectation of a decent human.”
“Gabe’s right,” Madden agrees, stretching out on his side along the floor. “What about him made him an angel?”
Fuck it. I tell them everything. From the hair product–fuck you very much, Madden–to the flies and Émile’s quick save there, rinsing out my hair, standing up for me with Josie, dancing, our plan to leave, then the gates of hell opening and swallowing me whole.
I’m met by five open-mouthed stares.
“You … you …”
“The cake …”
“And the groom …”
“What did she have an ice sculpture for?” Gabe exclaims.
“That’sthe part you’re focusing on?” I throw back.
He scoffs. “Seriously, I know they’re your family, but an ice sculpture? An actualcastleice sculpture? Just when I think they can’t be the worst, they say hold my beer and havea fucking ice sculpture.”
My lips twitch with a memory. “Émile used a smashed piece on Sheppy’s nose.”
“Practical guy.”
“Yeah …” I try not to swoon over the influx of memories.
“Okay, Iguesshe sounds cool,” Gabe relents. “What did he do when you fell over?”
“Tried not to laugh, mostly.”
“What?” Gabe shoots to his feet. “I’ll stab him. Just take me to him and I swear I will.”
“Sit down, moron. It didn’t … it didn’t make me feel bad. Which is weird. Actually, instead of making memoreembarrassed, it almost made me want to laugh too. Almost. If I hadn’t been so fucking sick from causing a scene, that is.”
“I’m surprised you’re not used to it by now,” Seven says.
“I don’t want to think about it anymore.” Though even as I say that, the aftermath of cakemageddon solidifies in my memories. “Wait … actually, I think Émile said something about me getting pushed.” The whole thing is a blur that I’m desperately trying to forget, but I cling onto that memory, onto his voice, and how forcefully he told them off. His hand on me. His soft but firm guidance out of there.
“Are you actually smiling?” Seven asks.
“Yeah. He … was really great.”
“So you’re going to see him again?” Rush asks.
And this is the part I don’t know how to explain. We’re gossips amongst each other, but I know I could tell them everything and they’d take that shit to their graves. I also know they’d have strong opinions about it though, and considering I’m still working through it all myself, I want to make my own decision before they all start throwing what they think at me.
“I hope so. He gave me his number, but … he said to look him up first.”