Page 26 of All Our Nevers

“You don’t know your brother’s favorite food?”

“How would I know that?”

“You’re his best man.”

A huff of air leaves his nose. “Just tell me.”

“Owen, I would have accepted literally any kind of soup as the correct answer.”

“His favorite food is soup?”

“He’s a simple man.” I shrug. “But I’m obviously not making soup in July, so we can do a cookout with the grill behind the house instead, with burgers and corn and stuff.”

“Fine.”

I look to my left and see his jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the road, hands tense on the ten and two positions.

“Are you moping because I know your brother’s favorite food and you don’t?”

“I’m not moping, I’m driving,” he snaps. “Do you need me to be constantly talking? I thought you preferred the sound of your own voice.”

He doesn’t even realize how much of his soft underbelly is showing right now.

“Don’t mope. It’s fine. Someday you’ll know your family as well as I do.”

His knuckles turn white on the steering wheel.

I turn back to my Notes app. “Tomorrow will be the beach day. I brought floaties in case we want them, and Nolan is bringing a frisbee. Actually, I should text him a reminder about that now.” I start to do so, but don’t slow my speech. “I just haven’t decided if we should plan to pack lunches or if there will be good enough beach food that we can grab.”

“There are definitely places for food right by this beach, like hot dog stands, that kind of thing. But we should bring snacks too. I at least know Andy well enough to know he’ll want to eat a vegetable.”

“Well done,” I say, sugar sweet. “You must have met him at least twice.”

He flips me off, but it’s a casual gesture.

“Anyway,” I continue, “tomorrow we’ll get dinner at an actual restaurant. I made a reservation for 7:00 at a seafood place that had amazing reviews.”

“Fine.”

“And then Sunday our checkout is at 11:00, but we can clean up and load the cars and then grab brunch before we go. You and Nolan will just have to stay sober at brunch so you can drive.”

“What about after dinner tomorrow? It’s a Saturday night. Are we going out?”

“I thought about this, and I have two plans. Plan A is if Sophie and Andy are relatively sober and in their right minds at that point, then we’ll probably stay in, and we can do s’mores in the backyard. Plan B is if Sophie and Andy are so fucking off their rockers that they actually want to go out to bars, then I have a few bookmarked. But there’s almost no chance of that.”

“Shame,” he says, posture perfectly straight. “I’d love to see what the ladies of Provincetown are up to nowadays.”

“Ew.” I roll my eyes.

Owen peers over at me with a smile that says he actually couldn’t care less about picking up women in Provincetown and just wanted to provoke me.

I reach forward to turn the music back up.

The rental looks even better than it did online: a huge colonial style mansion just off the main road through Provincetown, Massachusetts. Pristine white paneling with pillars framing the front door, warm brown shingles on the roof, and a cool expanse of green in front, mowed in manicured lines that catch the sun in a light-and-dark duet. It’s luxurious and cozy and supremely New England and Sophie is going to love it.

The inside is just as wonderful. All four of the bedrooms are huge and the bathrooms are newly renovated, with a spacious living room of butter-soft couches in sage green and cream. Owen and I haul our suitcases and supply bags inside, then set out to our prep tasks. I place the grocery order as he lines up the decorations across the kitchen island.

I have a vision. A very specific vision that I have crafted from years of knowing Sophie and Andy and going to parties with them and seeing their style and knowing what they like. Owen’s role here is supporting actor at best, so I tell him as much.