“Riley!” Holly squeals.

Riley rolls her eyes. “Oh Doctor!” she moans.

Holly’s eyes bug out of her head.

I’ll make it up to her, I promise myself. Maybe with a grandkid or ten.

We sit, we eat, we laugh, and we love, surrounded by the people closest to us.

The wedding cake is comprised of individual cupcakes with single candles on them. And just like the time I gave her twenty wishes, she takes her time, her gaze lifting before each blow, thinking hard about every wish.

I remember watching her the first time and thinking she was amazing—that after everything she’d been through she still managed to have something to look forward to. But now I look at her—into her clear gray eyes and I see everything. Everything. Hopes, dreams, plans for our future. I take her hand and motion to the last candle. She smiles, right before her eyes drift shut. Her chest rises with her intake of breath, and she makes her wish. When she’s done, she looks up at me. “I wished for you,” she says.

“You already have me. Heart and soul, remember?”

She winks. “Yes, I do.”

“So what do you think?” Holly says, her hands flipping through the air.

“It’s a beautiful reception, Mom,” Riley tells her.

Holly laughs, shaking her head. “You haven’t worked it out yet?” she asks, spinning a slow circle.

I stand tall next to Riley, my hand on the small of her back and my ears and eyes taking in everything at once. I look for the guys and do a quick head count—just in case one of them is off creating some mayhem. They’re all here. So are the girls. So are all the other guests.

“I’m confused,” I mumble.

Logan laughs. “You look it, too.”

I scowl.

Another pie in my face.

“Quit it with the fucking pies!” I snap, wiping my face.

Lucy chuckles as she high fives Jake. “Those pitching lessons came in handy!”

Dad grunts.

Silence fills the room.

He and Holly step toward us, almost in sync. I cover my face. “What’s wrong with you?” Dad murmurs.

“Pie.”

“No Pie,” he says.

I drop my hands. “So?”

He lifts a set of keys, dangling them in front of me.

“Another car?” Eric yells. “Giraffe, Dad! I got a frickin’ giraffe.”

“Shut up,” Dad yells over his shoulder. “It’s not a car.”

“We have a house,” Riley says, and I look down at her. She looks as confused as I feel.

“It’s not a house,” Holly tells her.

“I’m so confused,” I say again and duck the pie just in time.

“Dammit!” Mikayla huffs.

“It’s the building,” Holly says. “It’s your wedding gift from Mal, Eric and I.”

“The building?” Riley says, looking around.

“I’m so—”

“For your dang garage!” Dad yells, his patience fading. He takes a breath. “For you to open your own garage, son. Holly, Eric and I—we covered the first year’s lease on the building and all the equipment and machines you need to get started.”

“Oh my god,” Riley whispers, taking the keys from him. She looks up at me, her eyes wide and her lips parted. “Babe.”

I switch my gaze from her to Eric, now smiling like a mankini-wearing Cheshire cat.

“But I have a job,” I mumble, because I don’t know what else to say.

“Had a job,” Lucy’s dad’s deep voice booms.

I look at him.

“Now you’ll be contracted for maintenance on the forty-five trucks in my fleet.”

“And all the trade-ins we get,” Mark, Cameron’s step dad, says.

Jake’s dad laughs. “And every time my wife’s car decides to be a chicken, we’ll be taking it in.”

Riley hands me the keys. “Riley’s House of Fixing Cars! What a great name,” she sings.

I shake my head, a little in disbelief and a little in hell fucking no.

“So what are you going to call it?” Holly asks.

Another fucking pie in my face.

I wipe my mouth, a smile forming as I look up at Jake—his arm around Mikayla’s shoulders. He’s the only one who knows that owning a garage was a dream of mine. And until today, that’s all it was. An unreachable dream. He smiles wider, matching mine, and nods once. I look at my dad, standing in front of me, his eyes proud. Then I clear my throat. “Mayhem Motors.”

I tap Dr. Matthews on the shoulder. “May I?” I ask him.

He nods, then kisses Holly on the cheek.

I take Holly’s hand in mine and settle the other on her waist, bringing her closer to me. I’d never really been one for dancing, especially slow dancing, so our movements are more swaying from left to right than anything. She doesn’t seem to mind. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly, my mouth to her ear. I’m sure this wedding was not at all what Holly had in mind the night I asked for Riley’s hand in marriage—the same night I bled my heart out to her and admitted to still seeing Dave. She’s kept all my secrets. Always has. Always will.

She pulls back slightly, her hand on my chest as she looks up at me. “This is what you and Riley wanted?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“If you’re happy, then I’m happy. But I’m also not stupid, son,” she says, smiling wider as the last word leaves her.

“I don’t know what you mean, Mom.”

Her eyes instantly fill with tears, her head slowly shaking from side to side. Her smile falters, so do her movements. “I’m proud of you, Dylan.”

“I know, Ma’am.”

“You do?”

“You wouldn’t trust me with your daughter if you didn’t believe I was worthy of it. And I can’t tell you how much that means to me.” I reach up, wiping the tears flowing down her cheek. “I wanted to thank you.”

“For what?”

“For many things. For looking at me the way you do. For getting me when no-one else did. For creating a girl so flawed and so perfect.”

“Well,” she says, rolling her eyes and sniffing back her sob. She makes light of the moment, because anything else would make her fall apart. “It wasn’t easy. But like you told Riley. Sometimes you need to have nightmares to appreciate the dreams.”

“You helped make both our dreams a reality, Ms. Hudson. Without you—”

“When?” she cuts in.

“When what?”

“When did you get married?”

My shoulders tense, just for a moment. “Two days ago.”

Sixty-Three

Three days earlier

Riley

I keep my eyes on Dylan while I strip out of my clothes.

He stands in front of me, already free of his, and steps forward, taking one of my hands in his, the other holding a glass jar with a single letter inside it. “You ready?”

I grip his hand tighter and inhale deeply, switching my gaze from his clear blue eyes—the same blue as the lake—to the edge of the cliff. “I don’t know.”