EPILOGUE: IN LOVE AT HOME
TWO YEARS LATER
Not many brides spend the morning of their wedding at a cemetery. But Liv Goldenhorn was no ordinary bride.
The gravestone had weathered over the past few years, and it looked better for it. A brand-new gravestone was depressing. Now it had some character, some authority. Eliot was finally aging well.
Ben put a jar of dill pickles and a copy of the New York Times sports section on his dad’s grave. He updated Eliot on his various interests and accomplishments: an A on a recent science quiz about the solar system, how the Yankees were doing, the worm farm Sam had built in the backyard, equally gross and cool. He’d grown eight inches in the three years since his father’s death, losing the baby fat, no longer a little boy. “There was a meteor shower last week. Mom let me stay up really late to watch it.” He pushed his glasses up his nose. His newly enlarging Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I wish you’d been there.”
Sam put his hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Why don’t we go for a walk and give your mom some time.” He produced a paper bag from the tote slung over his shoulder. “Are you guys hungry?”
Dottie eyed the bag. “If it’s lunch, then I’m not hungry. If it’s a treat, then I am.”
Liv and Sam traded an amused look. “Lucky for you, Miss Sweet Tooth,” Sam said, “it’s apple fritters.”
As the trio disappeared over a small hill, Liv stared at the etched words and dates on the gravestone, rereading them for the thousandth time. Even after all these years, it still seemed somewhat unbelievable that he was gone. “Well, E. I’m getting married today.” Saying it out loud invoked an untamed moment of laughter. She sank to her knees, settling into the grass, breathing the warm June air. “You’d like him, I think. Oh, let’s face it: you’d probably be a jealous prick about the whole thing. But he’s good for me. Good for Ben. He loves us. We love him.”
She pulled a blade of grass from the ground, examining its soft white end. It was peaceful here. Soothing. She leaned back against the sun-warmed grave, feeling incredibly close to her ex-husband.
A few minutes passed before she spoke again. “I don’t have any bad feelings, E. About us, I mean. Oh, there’s things I wish we’d done differently. Ways I could’ve been a better wife. Probably should’ve worked less. Probably could’ve initiated sex more. But I’ve learned from it all. I’ve become a better person. I’ll be a better wife this time. Don’t roll your eyes at me, you bastard,” she added, using the headstone to help get to her feet. “I will. I know I will.”
In the near distance, Sam rounded the corner. Dottie was on his shoulders, Ben dashing ahead. Their chatter and laughter a warm, happy sound. “This isn’t goodbye, E. You’ll always be Ben’s dad. You’ll always be my first love. But this is a farewell, my darling. Because I’m giving my heart to someone else today, and I need to give him all of it, for us to have a shot. I hope that’s okay.” She frowned, reconsidering. “Why am I asking you if it’s okay? It’s my heart. I can do what I want with it.”
Liv inhaled deeply through her nose. Warm fragrant earth and the sweet scent of flowers. For a place that honored the dead, there was an incredible sense of life out here. Because there always was life, always movement and momentum. If you weren’t dead, you were alive. A calm sense of certainty filled her. She gave the gravestone a quick smile, turning in the direction of her family, before spinning back. “Oh, and don’t get in your head about it, but Savannah Shipley has a girlfriend.”
She was laughing as she walked toward her fiancé and children, imagining Eliot’s stunned disbelief.
When Sam and Liv got engaged, the first thing Savannah said was, “You have to let me plan the wedding.”
“Don’t you mean, Congratulations?” Liv teased, giddy and girlishly happy.
“Oh my gosh, sorry: congratulations, and you’re perfect for each other, and please, please, please let me plan the wedding.” She looked equally hopeful and determined. “Just me. On my own.”
Savannah had never done a wedding solo before, from start to finish. This, the vendors all joked, would be her introduction to wedding-planning society. For months, she’d been working on getting every detail perfect.
“Are you really trusting her to do everything?” Gorman had asked, refilling Liv’s glass as they toasted (again) to sexy Sam. “Isn’t that driving you crazy, Ms. Type A?”
Liv shook her head. In her leafy backyard, Ben was reading a book about space travel while Dottie was running around in a tutu. “I trust her.”
Gorman twisted his wedding band absentmindedly. “Isn’t life fascinating?” he murmured. “How it all turns out.”
Now, as they all arrived home from the cemetery, Savannah made her go blindfolded upstairs into her and Sam’s bedroom, where she was going to get ready. “No peeking!”
For her first wedding, at Temple Emanu-El on the Upper East Side, Liv had gone all out in a Vera Wang ball gown the size of a small planet and six bridesmaids in purple silk. This time, it was different. As soon as she’d laid eyes on the floor-length cream lace dress in a local vintage store, she knew it was the one. Simple and elegant, the dress evoked old-world glamour, and the three-quarter sleeves covered her arm fat.
Liv did her own hair and makeup. No false lashes or extensions or contouring. Her face was her face. She’d rather look like a fiftysomething than a fiftysomething trying to look thirty. She didn’t want to be thirty. She wanted to be right where she was.
Downstairs, the house filled with the sound of arriving guests. Nerves bubbled up.
“Knock, knock.” Gorman stuck his head around the door. On seeing her, his eyes grew wide. Then misty. He pressed his fingers to his lips.
“That bad?” Liv joked.
He swatted her. “Don’t even.”
Henry was behind him, both hands behind his back. “I know you wanted to keep it simple but…”
“Every queen needs her crown,” Gorman finished. “Take it from the biggest queens of all.”
The two men presented Liv with an elegant flower crown. Pink roses and purple lilacs and yellow goldenrod. “All from your garden,” Gorman said proudly. “Which is looking absolutely—”
Henry elbowed him. “Don’t ruin the surprise!”
Liv marveled at their creation. “It’s beautiful.” She hugged them both, wiping away a tear. “This day is already perfect. How can it get any better?”
Gorman offered her his arm. “Why don’t you marry a deliciously hot chef?”
Savannah was in the doorway. Her face was aglow. It’d taken Liv a few days to get used to the new haircut. But the choppy platinum-blond bob suited the woman Savannah had become in New York. “We’re ready for you.”
Greenery wound down the staircase and lined the hallway. Liv felt like a fairy queen as she floated through the first floor of the house.
The backyard took her breath away. It was full of flowers. Hundreds of clear bottles with one or two colorful stems hung suspended along the back and side fences. More blooms wove around a wooden arbor, which was loosely wrapped with a swathe of ivory silk. The assembled crowd, brightly attired in the dress code of summer chic, fell silent. In her clear, pretty voice, Darlene Mitchell started “Here Comes the Sun.” Her boyfriend, Zach, accompanied her on acoustic guitar. “ ‘Little darling, it’s been a long, cold, lonely winter. Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here.’ ” The duo had planned the East Coast tour for their debut album, Dark Secret, around the wedding. Their band was blowing up, but they weren’t missing this for the world. Sam and Liv were part of their love story, too.
Ben and Dottie, angelic in all white, scattered wildflowers down the aisle. A wave of laughter rippled through the gathering when Dottie ran out of flowers and started throwing them from Ben’s basket. Liv’s heart swelled at the gracious way Ben let his almost-stepsister steal the spotlight.
Gorman walked Liv through the center of their assembled guests. All eyes were on her, but she was only looking at Sam. His kind eyes and broad shoulders and big hands. Big enough to catch her if—when—she fell. But she felt strong enough to catch him, too. She only took her eyes off him when it was time to read her vows.
“Sam Woods,” she began. “I love you. Tenderly. Wildly, and with my whole heart. Because you are so easy to love.”
Zach was already teary. Darlene grinned and pulled him closer.
“On the day we met, I thought you were an intruding sex pest, so I brandished a banana at you and threatened to throw you in jail.”
Everyone laughed.
“And you handled that like you handle all aspects of your life. With flawless grace, generous humor, and boundless empathy.”
Sam brushed away a tear.
“Gosh, you never cry,” Liv murmured. “Guess I’m doing a good job.”
He gave her a thumbs-up.
Standing at the side, Savannah laughed out loud. It was already going so well.
Liv continued. “We’re not spring chickens, you and I. We’re adults, with big, messy lives and big, messy hearts. I don’t promise a perfect marriage: I don’t believe in perfect marriages. But I believe in us. As partners. As parents. As human beings, trying to make sense of this big, messy world. Today, I choose you as my husband because you make me happy. I promise to love and trust you. I promise not to work too much or drink too much or make you eat my terrible cooking.”
Zia nudged Clay, who smiled and kissed his wife’s cheek. They’d gotten married last year in Hawaii, a three-day blowout with a salsa band, piles of Italian food, and two hundred of their friends and family. They honeymooned on a private beach. To remember the happy occasion, they took Polaroids.
“Sam Woods,” Liv continued, “you’re the one for me. Whenever I recall the first time we kissed, on the front steps of this very brownstone, one word keeps coming back to me. That word is home. You are my home. I cannot wait to continue our great love story, as your wife, always by your side.”
The crowd broke into applause.
Gorman was weeping. Henry handed him a tissue. “You big softie.”
His husband wiped his eyes. “You love it.”
Henry squeezed his hand. They’d just had their final home visit from a social worker. They were ready to adopt. Gorman had painted the nursery himself. “I do,” Henry said.
After the cocktail hour, dinner was served. Sam had indeed made a long table out of Liv and Eliot’s willow tree, around which they’d enjoyed countless outdoor dinners and afternoon coloring sessions. Savannah rented a few more tables to fit their guests, all decorated with tall white candles, vintage crockery, and more jars of bright flowers. The feast was summer staples: watermelon and feta salad, grilled corn slathered in salted butter, roasted new potatoes. Maine lobsters and sticky ribs were served family style. Kids chased each other under the tables. Everyone was drinking Aperol spritz and rosé and champagne. A lot of it.
Darlene and Zach were seated next to Clay and Zia. After being nominated for (but not winning) an Academy Award for Best Actor in The Jungle of Us, Clay had solidified his place in the A-list as a dramatic actor. But at Liv and Sam’s wedding, he was just Zia’s husband, and Zach and Darlene’s friend, watching proudly as his wife announced her latest news to her friends.
“Director of volunteer services for Southeast Asia,” Zia told Darlene and Zach. She felt lit up from the inside. “I’ll be overseeing all of the teams there.” Zia had gone back to school to get a master’s in public health. When her boss’s job at Global Care came up, she went through four rounds of interviews to get it. “I’m going to be based in Bangkok for the next five months, starting in the fall. I get to expand the current programs in the region and start new ones in Laos and Myanmar. I’m psyched!”
“Bangkok.” Zach addressed Clay. “Long way from LA.”
“I’m going with her,” Clay said, adding that Layla and her kids would be housesitting the LA condo while they were away: Zia’s sister had groveled for a year for their forgiveness, donating all the money from the photograph to Global Care. “It’s time Zia’s career came first.”
Zia and Clay exchanged a smile of understanding, their fingers evenly intertwined.
“Do you miss having a home base?” Zia asked Zach and Darlene, sampling the fresh lobster. “You guys seem to be constantly on tour these days. South by Southwest, LA, Portland.”
Zach and Darlene looked at each other and shrugged, smiling. “I’m just happy people want to hear our music.” Zach squeezed Darlene’s thigh. Even after all this time, it sent a deliciously lazy spark up her spine. His shirt was still a little rumpled, but he wore his hair swept back off his face these days. It made him look more mature, but no less cute.
“It’s like Liv said in her vows,” Darlene added. “Wherever we are, as long as we’re together: that’s home.”
Later, the tables were cleared away, and Sam and Liv cut a three-tiered vanilla cake slathered with honey-and-lavender buttercream frosting. Ben and Dottie had two pieces each and were taken up to bed before they gobbled a third. Liv was apprehensive about a DJ—her days of drunkenly thrashing to “Party in the USA” were definitely behind her. But then Darlene and Zach started a sweet, jazzy version of “It Had to Be You,” and she realized it was going to be a different kind of dance floor. As the sun sank over the fence, Liv slipped off her heels and let Sam sway her around, full and tipsy and entirely happy.
“ ‘It had to be you,’ ” Darlene sang, making the old words sound inevitable and romantic, classic and entirely fresh. “ ‘It had to be you.’ ”
Liv and Sam were surrounded by couples in love in New York. Gorman and Henry; Darlene and Zach; Clay and Zia; Savannah and Sophie (the quirky English fashion student she’d been dating); and a couple dozen other friends and family, all twirling around the backyard, which had been strung with little white lights.
“ ‘For nobody else, gave me a thrill,’ ” Darlene’s eyes were on Zach, as they sang together, not bothering to hide grins. “ ‘With all your faults, I love you still.’ ” And Liv thought about how love meant showing someone everything—every awkward, shameful, hidden part of yourself—and the sublime grace and freedom in having those parts accepted, and cherished. How that was, ultimately, the secret to being loved, and loving others. Seeing, and being seen.
“ ‘It had to be you, wonderful you, it had to be you.’ ”
“How’d I do?” Savannah whispered, as Sam was saying goodbye to some friends with sleepy kids.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Liv said. “But I’m really glad you had an affair with my husband.”
Savannah blushed. “I’m glad it brought us together.”
She locked eyes with Sophie, unable to stop smiling. They’d met online a few months ago. Sophie was goofy and sweet and made Savannah laugh more than anyone else in the world. Liv and Sam had dinner with the couple, and Savannah’s mom and dad, when they were in town a few weeks ago. The six of them ate at a new spot in Bushwick, co-run by a good friend of Savannah’s and Sam’s. They were lucky to get a table: Honey’s Fried Chicken was currently the hottest fried chicken spot in New York City. At the end of an indulgent dinner that even the Kentuckians deemed fantastic, Honey came by the table. The light in her eyes was explained by the fact she was in love. A food writer, Natasha, who, it turned out, fell for more than just the Southern comfort food. They’d recently gotten engaged.
“Guess it all worked out for the best,” Honey said to Savannah, and Liv thought, Ahhh, putting the pieces together.
“You changed my life,” said Savannah to her now.
Liv smiled back broadly. “You changed mine, too.”
The two women hugged, holding each other close. Then Liv squeezed Savannah’s arms. “All right. Go back to your lady.”
Savannah’s lips curved up. It took Liv a moment to realize why she looked so pretty. Savannah Shipley wasn’t wearing a scrap of makeup.
Sam stepped in. “May I have this dance?”
“Hello, husband,” she said, accepting his hand.
“Hello, wife,” he replied. “Ooh. I like the sound of that.”
“Me too.” She settled into his arms. “Well, we did it. We got married.”
“And it’s the first day of the rest of our lives.”
“I don’t know about that,” Liv said with a smile. “I think we’re already living our lives. We just get to do it together.”
“That sounds pretty good to me.” He spun her around slowly, her bare feet twisting in the soft grass. “Wanna know the best part?”
“What’s that?”
Sam kissed her. He tasted like whiskey and buttercream. “We’re already home.”