I slide from the truck and follow Brooks up to the house. I can smell his mother's baking before I even reach the threshold. Voices are drifting through the cracked door, along with the sugary aroma.
"Emmeline!" Marge throws down her potholders when she spots me in the doorway to the kitchen.
"Hi Mrs. Brooks," I say politely, returning her hug.
"Mom, let her go," Brooks grumbles.
"Yea, my turn," a voice behind us says.
I spin around and see Brody at the bottom of the stairs. Lauren reaches me first, her long blonde pony swinging behind her. She hugs me with just as much enthusiasm as Marge.
"Hey girl! Ugh, it's been a minute," Lauren laughs, letting her arms drop from my shoulders.
"I know right?" I laugh back.
Slight pang of heartache thinking about the last time I saw her. Miami.
"And oh my god. THIS!" I exclaim, holding up her left hand. Diamond bright and shiny. Got that clarity I wish had.
"I know right? He did OK." Lauren smiles, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
"Sure did," Brody says, pretend-shoving Lauren away from me.
"Hey bae," I say to Brody, grinning at Brooks over my shoulder.
"Good to see you again." Brody hugs me.
"I'm so glad y'all are coming this weekend!" I say, looking at both of them.
It's true. I love my friends but sometimes I feel like they have their own lives without me –memories I don't know about, ones I'm not even a part of. Nine years' worth. Having Brody and Lauren around breaks up some of that internal tension.
"I can't believe both my babies are leaving. Here and gone within a day!" Marge says. There's a tinge of annoyance in her voice but she's still beaming at her boys regardless.
"It's only a weekend. Three days at the most," Brooks says, sitting at the kitchen island.
"I'm just glad we could come up on short notice. Glad this one could stop wedding planning," Brody says. Lauren rolls her eyes at him behind his back. I laugh.
"It's been like two weeks. You haven't seen anything yet," Lauren teases.
"Everything is last minute with Trix," I say. "And you had more time than me! I almost wasn't invited. Wouldn't have been if–"
I pretend I forget how to speak and shake my head. I see a flicker of hurt? cross Brooks's face. Brody and Lauren exchange a walking-on-egg-shell look. I know everyone in the room is dancing around the topic. THE topic.
Maybe they're sitting in the kitchen, fresh-faced and engaged, wondering how on earth we are back together again. Maybe they're judging us for it. At the very least, they're wondering if we talked about it. About what happened. About Brooks flying me to Miami to break up with me. About him seeing someone else during us. About me storming away and flying home. About Lexi showing up at Tenfire. About me fucking Alex.
Well, maybe Brody and Lauren don't know that gory detail.
"Well, I can't wait for the weekend!" Lauren exclaims, clapping her hands together. Thanks for cutting the tension, girl. Can I borrow your knife?
"Yea, when are we leaving?" Brody asks, looking across the marble countertop at Brooks.
"Waiting to hear back from Trav. All gonna get on the road around the same time," Brooks says, his voice nonchalant. He still hasn't met my eyes.
Shit. Why'd I have to make jokes?
I glance at the microwave clock. 2:00 PM.
"Probably 7-ish?" I suggest.
"Damn. Going to be a late night," Brody exhales, rubbing his eyes.
"Long day of travel for all of us, babe." Lauren leans against Brody's shoulder. "Emmy too."
"Oh, you're staying for dinner then, right?" Marge asks, her head in the fridge.
"Sure mom," Brooks says, sighing. "We'll stay for dinner."
"Excellent," she says, pulling a bushel of broccoli from the crisper drawer. "How's 6 o'clock sound?"
"OK," Brooks says, curt.
"Sounds good," I answer, trying to sound extra cheery.
"Well, I have to finish packing my bag," Lauren declares. "I brought my entire suitcase from NC, but no way I'm lugging that brick up the Poconos."
"Don't blame you," I agree. "Make Brody lug it."
"Come on, I'll help and we can bring our bags down before dinner." Brody ushers her out the door.
With the two of them gone, it's just Brooks and I sitting at the island with him mom slicing chicken breasts on the cutting board. Brooks tilts his head towards to back door that leads to the wrap-around deck. I nod and stand from the stool.
"We'll see you at dinner, ma," Brooks says.
"OK." Marge's muffled voice comes from inside the fridge.
Brooks takes my hand and leads me onto the deck. We step into a biting mist and I welcome it against my skin. It's overcast near the coast, the gray sky reflecting the steely ocean below. It's the same sullen color as the marshes we passed on our way here.