Charlie looks at us. “Why are you apologizing to her? What am I missing?”

“Nothing!” I say. I don’t want to keep secrets from Charlie, but I also don’t want Wes to know I’m upset.

“I’m sorry she got stood up,” Olivia ad-libs. “And that Wes wasn’t free to step in.”

Thankfully, Eastridge isn’t far from Nonna’s, so I’m spared any further conversation about Wes and Laurel. As we get out of the car, I take a deep breath. Since the Fab Four is back together, I’m going to have to get used to being around Wes, no matter how bad it sucks.

I guess this fall at LSU will look a little different than Olivia described.

Olivia laces our fingers together and squeezes my hand. We’re a few paces behind Charlie. “I am so sorry,” Olivia says quietly. “I really thought they were over.”

“I saw what I wanted to see,” I say. “He was being a good friend and I made it into more than it was.”

Charlie stops and points to a big palm tree in the corner. “That’s the one that almost killed me.”

The plant is missing half its leaves, and the pot has a huge crack down the side where dirt is dribbling out onto the floor. “It looks like it put up a good fight,” I say.

“I think every plant from the shop is here,” Olivia says as we walk through the entrance to the club. It definitely feels like we’re inside a garden.

We walk into the main ballroom and it’s packed. There’s a band set up on a stage with a dance floor in front of them. Round tables with white tablecloths are scattered through the room, and the buffet runs along the back wall. Each table has fresh pink and white flowers in the center, and there are lots of blown-up pics of my grandmother through the years propped on easels everywhere I turn.

Nonna and Papa stand near the entrance, where there’s a huge line of people waiting to tell her happy birthday. As much as she likes to grumble about the attention, I can tell she’s happy everyone is here.

We move through the room, looking for the tables set aside for the family, and almost every person we pass stops us to say hello and ask, “Which one do you belong to?” By the time we make it to the other side, I’ve been hugged and kissed and pinched on the cheek enough to last me a lifetime.

Uncle Ronnie and Aunt Patrice are on the dance floor doing some weird mash-up of grinding and swing dancing, and there’s a small crowd off to the side.

“That saying dance like no one is watching should be dance when no one is watching,” Charlie says. “And how can they even dance like that to old-people music?”

Olivia and I stare at them with horrified expressions. It’s too early in the night to be moving around like that, especially with this crowd of grandmas watching.

“Let’s get some food,” Olivia says.

“I’m not sure I have an appetite after witnessing that display,” I answer as she drags me to the buffet line.

To no one’s surprise, most of the food spread out on the table in front of us is Italian. There are big pans of lasagna, and spaghetti and meatballs, and mini muffulettas and pasta salad. And while it’s all pretty good, it doesn’t compare to my grandmother’s cooking.

We sit down at the table with Jake, Sara, Graham, and Banks. As hard as I try to not look for Wes and Laurel, that’s exactly what I find myself doing.

They’re sitting nearby, just separate from our group. Several times, I’ve seen her sitting at a table by herself, scrolling through her phone, while Wes hangs out with Charlie near the dance floor.

Neither of them seems as aware of each other as I am of them.

Thankfully, Nonna pulls us out on the dance floor as soon as we’re done eating, and the band starts playing songs I actually know. I finally quit worrying about Wes and Laurel and just enjoy dancing with Nonna.

And Nonna can move! It’s not long before the lights are dimmed and everyone crowds that small wooden square. We dance and dance, having long ago abandoned our shoes to the pile right off the edge of the stage. I’ve never been so glad to be dateless. I take pictures and short videos throughout the night and send them to Mom and Margot.

My grandparents dance to the same song they had their first dance to at their wedding, and there isn’t a dry eye in the room.

It’s getting late, and I’m scanning the table full of different flavors of cannoli, when Wes appears by my side. I saw Laurel leave a half hour ago, but it’s the first time Wes has approached me all night.

“Which one are you going for?” he asks.

“Well, it’s between the chocolate one and the peanut butter one,” I say. “Or I might get both.”

He laughs. “You should definitely get both.”

We each fill a plate with desserts, and he follows me back to the table. I put my plate down and start to pull out my chair, but his hand on my arm stops me.

“Let’s dance first,” he says.

The band is playing a slow song. There are several couples on the dance floor, including Jason and Sara.

“Okay,” I say, and follow him to the dance floor.

We face each other and he puts his hands on my waist, pulling me close. Really close. Close enough that it takes nothing for me to slide my hands over his shoulders and around his neck. We move with the music, and I don’t dare look around the room to see which of my family members are watching us. I wish more than ever that we were somewhere else. Somewhere that we weren’t the subject of no less than five different conversations right now.

“Did Laurel go home?” I ask, and then want to beat my head against the wall. Why am I bringing her up? So stupid.

“She went to meet friends,” he answers.

“Oh,” I say. It’s a lame response, but it’s all I can muster when what I really want to do is grab him by the shirt and shout, Tell me everything.

And I can tell he wants to say more. He actually opens his mouth, but no words come out. Finally, he says, “Her parents and grandparents were also invited tonight. They were all here earlier. She asked me the other night while we were at her grandparents’ house if we could go to this together and figure things out between us. We talked on the way over here, and we both agreed we want different things. She bailed as soon as her family did so she could hit another party across town. I guess you can say we’ve gotten closure.”

“Closure,” I repeat. This feels big. But am I reading too much into it? Is he just talking this out with his friend?

“When I drove Peter home and he told me he wasn’t going to make it to your date, Laurel was already on the way to my house.”

Oh God. I can read a thousand things into what he’s saying. A million.

“It worked out for the best. I’m not sure how good of a date I would have been with all of my family here,” I say.

“Peter was pretty bummed.” He gives me a small smile. “Just like I was when I couldn’t step in for him.”

Before I can say anything, Charlie pops up next to us, one hand on Wes’s shoulder, his other hand on mine. I want to scream.

He looks at Wes. “Two choices: one, we take all those plants back to the shop first thing in the morning like we planned, or two, we do it tonight after the party and won’t have to be at work until ten.”

Wes finally looks away from me to Charlie. “Tonight. I’d love to sleep in tomorrow.”

“Same!” Charlie says, patting us both. “This thing is almost over, so let’s get started on the ones outside. I’ll pull the truck up.”

And then he’s gone.

The song ends as if on cue, and Wes’s hands slowly fall from my waist. I drag my hands away from him, although that’s the last thing I want to do. Just before he walks off, he says, “One more date and then you’re done.”

***

It feels like it takes ten trips from the car to Nonna’s house to bring in all the leftovers that Eastridge packed up for us, but it’s better than what Wes and Charlie are doing. The last I saw Charlie, he was circling that giant palm like a gunslinger at a shoot-out.

My money is on the palm.

Nonna plops down in a chair and massages her bare feet. “I knew those boots were a bad idea.”

Olivia and I have to rearrange everything in the fridge just to get the extra food to fit inside. Papa shuffles in carrying a huge flower arrangement and sets it in the middle of the table. He comes up behind me and wraps me in a hug.

“I’m sorry the date didn’t work out, Sophia,” he says quietly.

I spin around and hug him back. “I had a blast! The party was fantastic, and I’m glad I could just hang out with the family.”

He seems pleased with my answer. Papa moves to Nonna and kisses her on the top of the head. “Happy birthday, my sweet girl.”

She holds his hand in hers, then brings it to her mouth, kissing his knuckles. “Thank you for my party.”

Papa heads upstairs and Nonna sinks into her chair. “I may sleep right here. I’m too tired to stand up.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure I ate my weight in meatballs. The second I close my eyes I’m going into a food coma,” Olivia says.

Nonna claps her hands together.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” She goes to the board and starts writing.

“That’s pretty cryptic,” I say.