Page 83 of The Statistically Unlikely Reunion

I shake my head. “Nothing we say now changes what’s already happened. But if we act quickly enough, we can still help Brody and Vi.”

I hear Lucas mutter a quiet Fuck under his breath, can actually see the tic in his jaw as he tamps down his frustration. But all he actually does is carefully put the still-folded piece of paper away in his own wallet. The look he directs at Brody is almost feral. “What’s the next activity on the agenda?”

Brody passes a hand over his face again. “You’re really not going to tell him?”

I shake my head.

“Fine. I tried.” Brody takes out his phone and wipes away what looks like endless messages before he starts texting. “We can’t all pose at the golf course together. Lorelai’s strategy works best if we propagate different sets of pictures, divvy up the work among people we trust.”

Within a few minutes, Vi, Khloe, and even Vera arrive. Within the half hour, Brody’s parents as well as Vi and Khloe’s parents and stepparents are gathered.

Lucas doesn’t say anything when Beatrice stops to give me a hug.

“When Brody went through his appendicitis thing,” I whisper, as an explanation of why Brody’s mother is hugging me.

He’s silent for a beat, but then instead of accepting my story, Lucas reminds me that he’s always been great at solving riddles. There’s no way he can actually know and yet his voice is confident as he says, “And she was your lawyer.”

Beatrice’s eyes widen slightly, and I decide to let it drop.

“It’s like Project Elrond,” I note, trying to lighten the mood.

Brody groans. “Again with this fucking nerd shit.”

But it’s Khloe who asks, “Wasn’t it the Council of Elrond?” At our questioning looks, she shrugs. “The trilogy’s a classic, and I completed several film classes.”

Lucas still looks faintly grim, but he’s the one who explains. “Lorelai is doubling down on the nerd. In both the novel and the film trilogy for The Lord of the Rings, it was the Council of Elrond, where they met to determine the fate of the One Ring. But in The Martian, when they’re secretly meeting to decide how to rescue⁠—”

“Matt Damon.” Brody nods along because it’s clearly been too long since he’s had attention, and he always interjects more when he’s nervous.

“Mark Watney,” Lucas continues. “They referred to it as Project Elrond, so the uninvited can’t guess at their intention.”

Khloe nods with the briefest of half smiles and moves closer to Lucas, shifting to better show off her cleavage, if Lucas happens to look down.

Because Vi and Khloe have apparently already briefed everyone on both the news and the general plan, planning the day is easier than it ought to have been.

Vi and Khloe’s parents—both sets—will golf with Brody, who will go out of his way to be, in his words, “Bro Dude to the Max.” He will be as extra as possible, with over-the-top celebrations meant to mimic the Brody-looked-upset pictures, to drive home the idea that Brody is just a passionate man, that the pictures with me had . . . nothing to do with me.

Vi and Khloe will continue on the originally planned biking trip with Brody’s parents, to show there’s no trouble in paradise, Vi happily bonding with her future in-laws, with perfect posture, while e-biking through the sites of Lānaʻi. (Never mind that, apparently, this had already been planned as the perfect opportunity to get coverage of the Gucci sandals and shoulder bag Vi had been gifted/not gifted.)

“They don’t need to be declared in quite the same way because it’s technically within the annual gift limit,” Vi explains.

“But she’ll be wearing teeny tiny flimsy sandals while biking.”

“It showcases her signature legs.” Khloe smiles at me, an almost creepily possessive hand on her twin.

And yeah, I’m kind of done with this conversation. I mean, they’re great legs, and I’m sure the sandals and purse are a year’s rent, but wow do I have nothing in common with these people.

Vi looks over to me. “Lorelai—you could join us, unless there’s a better photo op?” There’s no sarcasm in her voice, and I can tell she’s making a genuine effort with me.

Khloe, of course, has to put in her two cents. “Honestly, even if Lorelai’s program might not work as well as a more expensive publicity or web control company, the fact that she can tweak it here is a godsend. I’d love to have you join us.”

Vi and Khloe both smile at me, and I don’t bother telling them my program’s almost certainly better. Much, much better.

“I’m not a big biker.” This is the truth. Also, biking sounds like a terrible way to exacerbate the rash that’s spread along my lower torso and upper legs.

There’s no predicting the severity of my flare-ups. It could go away by tomorrow, in time for me to wear a slinky dress at their 1920s blowout, or it could just as easily last through the wedding. With my current stress levels, and considering all the anecdotal evidence I’ve mined from Reddit? It’s probably here to stay, which means as little physical activity as possible.

“There’s a cat sanctuary.”