Page 57 of All Our Nevers

I can hardly imagine it.

I mean, I love my friends, of course. And I have my brother. We’re as close as people can be. They would do anything for me.

But even with NASA, there are parts of myself that I’ve never been honest about. Never truly unearthed all my broken parts. Never felt like I could.

And maybe it’s the fact that the wedding is tomorrow and everything feels sappy and romantic, but for the first time… I think I want that. I want to trust someone with everything. Every single thing. And to know they’ll love me through it.

Owen drops the butt of the joint onto the concrete, stubbing it out with his black leather shoe, then picking it up and tossing it in the dumpster.

“Should we head in?” he asks, pushing off the wall, a stormcloud still tucked behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” I say, not second guessing my instinct to lean forward and loop my arm through his. When he looks over at me, the tight set of his mouth loosens—curious, surprised.

“I don’t know about you,” I say, “but I’m starving.”

That hint of a smile blooms. “Amelia, I think you’re just high.”

And dammit—he’s handsome like this. Softened by evening air and honesty, the suggestion of a Walsh-family dimple peeking out through his dark beard. Clearwater blue eyes pouring into mine.

Maybe I am just high, but I think I’m actually starting to like Owen Walsh.

That feeling, it turns out, would be short-lived.

13

Lia

It’s 4:12 PM on Sophie and Andy’s wedding day. Owen is late, and I’m pissed. I’m trying not to show it, though, because Sophie’s having her bridal portraits taken and she’s gorgeous and she doesn’t need the stress.

Her dress is perfect. I can’t stress this enough. If I had designed something for her myself I couldn’t have come up with a more fitting dress for my sweet, gorgeous best friend. White chiffon, A-line skirt, corset top and sweetheart neckline, and straps tied in bows of long lace ribbon at each shoulder. She looks like a princess, with her hair half-down in loose waves, a long veil trailing across her back.

“You told the photographer to catch Andy crying when he sees you, right?” I ask when there’s a short pause between shots.

“He’s not gonna cry,” she insists. “He’s not emotional like that.”

“About you? Uh, yeah. He is. You’re a vision. He’s gonna lose his mind.”

“Can I have the bride and mother-of-the-bride now, please?” the photographer asks, and I realize this might be the distraction I need to go on my warpath.

“Go, go,” I say, shooing Sophie towards the archway where her mom is waiting. “I’m gonna grab something from the boys and I’ll be right back.”

Sophie waves me off and I’m gone.

I knock on the third-floor meeting room door twice—that’s where the men are gathered, to keep Andy from seeing Sophie before the ceremony. When I hear laughter on the other side of the door, I go ahead and grant myself entrance.

Nolan is taking a swig from a flask as I walk in, and Andy is grinning ear-to-ear. Sophie’s dad and her mom’s boyfriend are, miraculously, talking among themselves in the corner, and it gives me a chance to grab my friends’ ears.

“You guys look great, and I don’t mean to ruin the mood, but where the fuck is Owen? I’m gonna castrate him when he gets here, I swear to God. No dick. No balls. He’s gonna look like a Ken doll down there.”

“Lia, it’s okay,” Andy says, smile undiminished. “He texted me. Something popped up at the shelter, but he’ll be here any minute.”

“The shelter? What shelter?”

“Casa Myrna.”

I flinch backwards in confusion. “The domestic violence place?”

“Yeah, he does pro bono legal aid stuff there like once a week.”