June had been a month to celebrate. My birthday had barely passed before senior class events and graduation parties began.

At the house, streamers hung everywhere, tied off with balloons. Red and gold for my new school, blue and gray for my old. Mom had transformed the backyard into a fiesta with cloth-covered tables and a catered buffet of Mexican food fit for royals. Members of her family and Dad’s had driven in for my graduation ceremony, and I was being passed around like a hot potato, forced to answer the same questions over and over:

Was I excited for USC?

What would I major in?

Had I met my roommate?

A table by the door had been filled with presents, including stacks of envelopes I was pretty sure contained money. The sun lowered over our house as everyone under the age of twelve splashed in the pool. Vickie and Mona nibbled on taquitos. Val had been trying to sneak a margarita for twenty minutes while her mom flirted with dads.

I ducked into the kitchen and found Manning opening and closing cupboards. He’d attended my graduation ceremony with Tiffany in the morning, but we hadn’t been alone together since my birthday on the beach a couple weeks earlier. “Hey.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “I’ve been sent by your mom to find Tupperware so Clancy Stevens can take frijoles to go.”

It was likely the most domesticated thing to have ever left Manning’s mouth. I grinned ear to ear and held up the empty bowl I’d grabbed on my way in. “I’m refilling chips.”

“Doesn’t the caterer do that?”

“I needed a few minutes of refuge.”

He opened another cupboard. “Keeping you busy, huh?”

I leaned my stomach on the island and set my chin in my hand, watching him. “You won’t find them in there.”

He paused, picked a gold-rimmed, leaf-patterned plate out of the cupboard and turned to show it to me. “Guest dishes.”

Those two words were enough to send my imagination spinning into the future. Once, before he’d gone away, we’d talked about guest plates and the kind of wife he pictured for himself. Even with Tiffany yards away, I saw myself in Manning’s kitchen, experimenting with new meals every day, made with love for him. That had to mean something. Tiffany would understand eventually, once she saw how right we were together. She would be mad, but she couldn’t deny the unshakeable truth about Manning and me—this story was ours.

Maybe reading my mind, Manning put the dish away and turned to me. “Did you say hi to your sister?”

“I think we’re in opposite rotations. I haven’t talked to her, but she keeps scowling at me.”

A caterer passed through the kitchen, fixing her cuff. She did a double take at Manning and stopped. I didn’t blame her. In a short-sleeved black t-shirt, the way he’d crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps were front and center. “Anything I can help you find, sir?”

“Tup—”

I stood up straight. “We’re fine.”

She looked startled by my presence, then nodded and continued outside.

“Take it on easy on her, all right?” Manning said. “This isn’t easy for her.”

“The caterer?” I asked.

“Tiffany.”

“Oh. You mean because one day of the year isn’t about her?”

He jutted his chin at me. “The past year has been about this, Lake. This party, your future. Your sister feels invisible.”

“Tiffany, invisible?” I laughed. “Do you hear how ridiculous that sounds?”

He didn’t even smile. He was seriously defending Tiffany to me.

“Whatever,” I said, turning to hide my disappointment. This must’ve been how Tiffany had felt when Manning had scolded her at the Fun Zone. I didn’t like it. I went to the pantry, grabbed a bag of chips, tore it open, and paused. My ears heated with my frustration. I whirled back to him. “It’s not like I asked for all this,” I said. “She hasn’t even congratulated me once.”

He glanced out the sliding glass door. “I’ll talk to her, but it’d be good if you made more of an effort.”

I went over to a cupboard. “Here.” On my tiptoes, I tried to grab for plastic on the top shelf, but I couldn’t reach. “You don’t want to keep Clancy waiting.”

Manning came up behind me, gently pressing his hips against me as he easily nabbed a container.

He was close. So close. His heat at my back melted my anger. I knew at any moment, he could take it away, so I asked, “How many?”

“How many what?” he asked, his voice low.

“Containers?” My throat sounded as dry as it felt. “Clancy looks like he eats a lot . . .”

“Not sure, but I can’t reach any more. You’ll have to move.”

Move? I couldn’t. I didn’t even blink. I’d barely been in his presence ten seconds. I couldn’t take it, catching a moment alone with him here and there, once every few weeks, months even. I wanted to soak this in. Manning stayed there, too. There was so much I wanted to know, so much to ask, but before I could, he put his hands on my hips. “Sorry, Birdy,” he murmured, squeezing me gently before moving me out of the way himself.

He took down a stack of tubs and lids, and we turned at the same moment to find my dad across the island, looking at us.

“Lake, we need you outside,” Dad said.

“I’ll be right there.”

“Now.” His tone startled me. He’d been on cloud nine since the night of my honor roll ceremony, buying me USC gear and embarrassingly expensive electronics for my dorm, telling me how proud he was at every turn. After graduation, we’d all driven home for the party and found a black Range Rover in the driveway with a bow on top.

“Manning,” Dad said as I slinked away, “let’s you and me have a word when the party dies down. About the job.”

“Yes, sir.”

Job? What job? While trying to keep my eyes and ears on the kitchen, I walked right into a conversation between my aunt, uncle, and Tiffany.

“Fashion design, maybe,” Tiffany said, beaming. “Or business. You can never go wrong with a business degree—”

“There you are, Lake.” My dad’s brother, Darryl, was more relaxed than my dad. He and my Aunt Roberta had driven down from Northern California just to watch me graduate.

My aunt wore silver bangles that chimed when she put her arm around my shoulder to pull me into the circle. “Look how tall you are. You girls have grown so much in the past couple years. How tall are you now, Lake?”

“Five-eight, I think.”

“My word,” Uncle Darryl said. “You might have to do some modeling on the side to help with that private tuition.”

Tiffany’s neck flushed. She was the model in the family, not me—God forbid there were two of us, even though we’d been mistaken last year for Niki and Krissy Taylor. Tiffany had taken it as a sign that she was supposed to be a model. Not me, though. “I’m almost five-eight, too,” Tiffany snipped.

“Is that so?” my aunt asked. “Maybe Lake’s legs are a bit longer. She gets that from your grandma.”

I could’ve sworn Tiffany’s head ballooned, and not with ego. Just as I braced myself for an explosion, Manning appeared at her side. He whispered something in her ear, and she took a breath. It was the first time in recent history, maybe ever, that Tiffany hadn’t let her anger get the better of her and spat out a nasty comment.

My dad walked up and patted his brother’s back. “I’m assuming that enormous present you brought Lake is a personal computer. More and more students have them these days.”

I blushed at his teasing. “Dad.”

“I wish it was, kiddo,” my uncle said to me. “If only I didn’t have two college tuitions coming my way.”

“Any progress with Craig?” Dad asked.

My cousin Craig was sixteen and, to the family’s dismay, had his heart set on the military. My peace-loving, Berkeley-alum aunt and uncle couldn’t wrap their heads around it, and my dad just all around disapproved of not going to college. “No,” Roberta said, “but we’ve still got a couple years to change his mind.”

Dad nodded. “It’s a good thing Lake’s around to carry on the Trojan line,” he said. “I have no idea what I would’ve done if she hadn’t gotten in. None.”

Manning put an arm around Tiffany and tried to pull her away. Remembering what he’d said in the kitchen, I began to hear the conversation as she might, more reminders of what she hadn’t done. But for some reason she glared at me, as if I’d orchestrated this whole thing just to embarrass her.

My uncle side-eyed my dad. “Give Craig five minutes alone with Charles and he’ll bleed Cardinal-red and gold. I swear, he could get a Bruin into ’SC.”

Manning, seeming to give in to the fact that Tiffany wouldn’t budge, said, “Tiffany’s headed to college this year, too.”

Dad looked over her head and amended, “Community college. Which is fine. It’s how I started out as well.”

“She was just telling us about it,” Roberta said. “And you must be the boyfriend. Madding, was it?”

Manning shook her hand. “It’s Man—”

“Actually,” Tiffany said, her voice an octave too high. She laced her fingers with his almost aggressively. “Not for much longer, right, babe?”

“Uh.” Manning paused, his eyes darting over the ground as if processing her comment. “You mean . . . no, Tiff.” He shook his head. “This isn’t the time.”

“But all of my family’s here,” she whisper-hissed.

“So, Lake,” my uncle started, “where’s the first place you plan to drive your new car?”

Manning and Tiffany were locked in a stare down, seeming to have a silent conversation. Something felt off. “Not for much longer what?” I asked.

Manning looked at me. The concern in his expression made my heart sink before Tiffany even spoke. “Manning won’t be my boyfriend much longer,” she said. “He’ll be my fiancé!”

I stared at her. We all did. As the word fiancé began to take on meaning, I covered my stomach, my gut smarting.

That had to be some inside joke between them I didn’t understand, some mistake. But why say it like that? Why say it at all? To be funny? Or get the attention back on her? Did she just want to ruin my party?

It didn’t matter. It wasn’t true—it couldn’t be.

“Your . . . what?” Dad asked. “What’s she talking about, Manning?”

Manning looked around the circle, pausing when his eyes met mine. He turned his head as if to look away but couldn’t seem to. He swallowed. “Nothing’s official, but yes. It’s what we’ve decided.”

Decided. It was such a cold, un-Tiffany-like word to describe a marriage. It also left no room for doubt. My throat closed. I was pretty sure I hadn’t taken a breath since the conversation had veered into this territory. I tried to inhale, nearly choking, feeling as if hands pressed around my throat.

But I was eighteen now.

Manning and I hadn’t even had a chance to talk since my birthday, and there was no end to the things I wanted to say. The things I wanted to hear.

Tiffany held up her left hand, wiggling a bare ring finger. “There are still some minor details to work out,” she said, her tone light and airy for the first time all night, “but we really feel it’s the right next step for us.”

My mom walked over to us, her party dress flouncing around her. “What’s going on over here?” she asked cheerily. “Why do you all look so glum?”

“Tiffany’s just made an . . . announcement,” Dad said.

A fly buzzed around the opening of my dad’s beer can. It landed on his knuckle. He shooed it, so it tried the aluminum tab, then his shirt cuff, then my uncle’s beer before disappearing for a few seconds and starting all over.

Mom took Dad’s elbow, and he shifted his beer to his other hand. “What’s your news, honey?” she asked.

“Mr. Kaplan,” Manning said. “I’d planned to talk to you first—”

I flinched. I’d planned to talk to you first. He wasn’t denying it. The idiot fly wouldn’t quit. It just kept trying to get in the can.

The nightmarish haze of the moment began to lift. He wasn’t denying it, because it was true. Manning actually planned to marry my sister, to become a permanent part of my family, and not in the way I’d often dreamed about.

“What’s the matter?” Mom asked, her party-smile wavering.

Tiffany looked delighted to have the attention back on her. “Manning and I are engaged to be engaged.”

My mom covered her mouth with both hands. “No. Are you serious? You know, I had a feeling. I can’t describe it, but the other day, I was reorganizing some photos and I came across the trip to Napa Valley where your father proposed . . .”

My insides flipped as my mom’s words began to run together. I was going to spew Mexican food right here, all over the lawn. I looked at my stupid new heels, which I’d bought to make my legs look good, because I’d wanted Manning to notice. The blades of grass under my feet seemed to come alive, squirming like worms, and the fly was back, doing a figure eight around my ankles.

I closed my eyes. One of the things I loved about our backyard was that if you listened hard enough, you could faintly hear the ocean. Waves crashed that hard, their impact echoing as far as this. I could almost feel the ground vibrate with the collision of water and sand, but I couldn’t hear anything except the wah-wah of voices, the squeal and splash of my cousins in the pool, my mother’s happiness. Not being able to hear the water made the world feel small, narrowed down to this moment and my inability to breathe. All the while, Manning’s eyes were on me—that much I knew, without even looking. It was just the two of us.

How could you do this to me?

I didn’t even know what this was.

How could you let me find out like this?

How could you have spent the past ten minutes in the kitchen without telling me?

How could you marry her?

How could you marry her?

I couldn’t get a breath, my throat now swollen shut. I was an idiot. Either my heels were sinking into the grass, or the ground was giving out. I had to open my eyes to center myself as my balance wavered. My eyes connected with Manning’s. They were the cruelest color of brown, even when filled with what looked like regret.

Val, Vickie, Mona and I had gotten our hair and makeup done for today, yet I’d never felt more like a child in an adult’s world. Tiffany was saying things like sweetheart neckline and cushion cut and something blue and Manning wasn’t stopping her. He just shook my uncle’s hand and looked at me. Touched Tiffany’s back and looked at me.

A gnat zoomed around my face and I slapped my hands together, smashing its guts on my palms. Somebody had to stop this.

My dad.

With that realization, the ton of bricks on my chest lifted. My dad would never let this happen. I turned to see why he’d barely spoken.

His eyes were narrowed on Manning, watching his every move. Each time Manning looked at me, my dad saw. His gaze followed Manning’s to me and then went right back. Their back-and-forth made me dizzy. The circle around us had somehow grown and also tightened, congratulations flowing. I listed to the side as the dirt gave under my feet.

Manning crossed the circle in one step and caught my arm. “You need air.”

“Manning.”

With that one terse word from my dad, everyone went quiet. Dad’s neck had reddened under his collar as he stared at us. I suddenly felt as if I was the one who’d made the announcement. As if I was about to endure his wrath, the weight of his disappointment. Manning’s hand on my elbow warmed me, bracing me for the explosion about to hit.

When his silence had stretched a little too long, the air growing tense, Mom spoke to him softly. “Charles, come inside for a few minutes. I’ll make you a drink.”

“I have a drink.”

He’d make a scene, and Mom knew it. It didn’t matter that this party was his idea, or that he was as happy as I could ever remember him being. His temper couldn’t be reasoned with. It was just a matter of how badly he’d ream Tiffany out for this. Or me. Or Manning, the way Dad was looking at him.

“What’s wrong?” Dad asked me, glancing at Manning’s hand.

“She was going to faint,” Manning answered. “I—”

“Come here.” Dad opened an arm to me. I didn’t want to leave Manning, but it wasn’t a request. I went to my dad, and he hugged me to his side a little too hard, almost possessively.

Tiffany broke the silence, her voice timid. “Daddy—”

He held up a hand to her. I waited with bated breath until he inhaled through his nose and announced . . . “I think it’s wonderful news.

Tiffany and I exchanged a glance, sisters first, shocked by his response. My dad was the one person I could rely on in this situation. For once, it elated me that he hated Manning. He couldn’t stand there and say it was wonderful!

“You . . .” Tiffany hesitated. “Wonderful?”

Mom smiled politely at my aunt and uncle. “I’m sorry. I think we just need a moment—”

“That’s right,” Dad said a little too loudly, raising his beer in the air. “It’s wonderful. A graduation and a wedding. What a night. Isn’t it, Cathy?”

None of us knew what to do. Manning stepped forward, as if to diffuse the situation. “Sir—”

Dad transferred his beer can to shake Manning’s hand. “Congratulations.”

“You’re happy?” Tiffany asked. The hopefulness in her voice both hurt me and made me hurt for her. She so wanted his attention—good or bad, it didn’t matter.

“I am,” he said, and then brightened up. “In fact, let me make a call. You remember that friend of mine over at the Ritz? He’s the manager there, and he owes me a favor.”

Tiffany gasped. “As in the Ritz-Carlton?” She squealed so loudly, even the kids yelling in the pool looked over. “On the cliff? Overlooking the beach? Are you serious?”

Words and hands flew by me. I couldn’t keep up. Dad laughed at Tiffany as she bounced up and down, and a hesitant smile broke through my mom’s skepticism.

“Tiffany, hang on.” Manning wiped his upper lip with his sleeve and turned to my dad. “Thank you, sir, but the Ritz is—it’s the Ritz.”

Dad waved his beer but his other arm tightened on my shoulders. “Don’t worry about that. It’s customary for the bride’s parents to pay.” He nodded at my mom. “Cathy’s father footed the bill for our wedding.”

“He did,” she agreed. “And don’t let Charles try to convince you he protested. He was happy to accept the help.”

“Bullshit. I did some protesting, but in the end, I realized it’s a father’s honor.” Dad kissed the side of my head, then held open his other arm to Tiffany. She slipped into his side, looking up at him. “Besides, this is why I work as hard as I do.” He locked eyes with Manning. “To see my girls happy.”

If he wasn’t going to put a stop to this, I had to. But how? I had no claim over Manning, not even a real kiss or a whispered promise. He’d never told me he loved me. I’d based an entire future with him on the things we hadn’t said, on looks exchanged and almost-touches. I knew I hadn’t imagined it, but I had no evidence of it whatsoever, not even a complete, unwavering certainty that Manning felt the same way I did.

Tiffany glowed. Mom saw it, too, how she and my dad wore matching smiles. My eyes watered. I wanted this for Tiffany, her happiness, my dad’s approval. I never tried to steal her attention, because I didn’t want it as badly as she did. But I couldn’t find the graciousness to celebrate with her tonight. Instead, I wished all of this away—so I could get what I wanted. Did it make me selfish that given the chance right then, I would’ve taken Manning for myself?

“Hello?” came a familiar voice.

We all turned as Corbin came through the back gate into the yard. “It was unlocked, so I just—”

“Please,” Mom said, beckoning him. “Come in. How are you, sweetheart? How’s your father?”

Corbin crossed the lawn to us and I’d never been happier to see anyone in my life. I ducked out from under my dad’s arm and vaulted myself into the comfort of my best friend with a hanging-on-for-dear-life hug that he answered with a deep laugh. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, Kaplan.”

I buried my face in his sunscreen-scented neck. Corbin understood me. He wanted me to be happy. He’d never do anything as awful as fall in love with my sister and announce his engagement to her this way.

“Watch this one,” Dad said to Corbin. “You thought she was a handful before? She’s really on the loose now.”

“You mean the Range Rover out front?” Corbin asked. “It’ll be a shame to see such a beautiful car just sit in the driveway.”

I turned, keeping Corbin’s arm around my shoulders. “I’ll get my license, geez,” I said, my bad mood clearing a little. “I’ve just been too stressed the last few months to—” Manning’s glare stopped me cold, and it wasn’t even aimed at me—just behind me. “—to concentrate.”

Corbin squeezed me to him. “Congratulations on today,” he said. “You want to grab your friends and we’ll head out?”

“Where are you going?” Tiffany asked.

“Bonfire,” Corbin answered. “Bunch of people down on the peninsula celebrating graduation.”

“Is that legal?” Manning asked.

“All the kids do it,” Mom explained before telling us, “Go ahead, you two. No need to hang around with us old folks.”

“I’m not old,” Tiffany said. “And we’re celebrating, too, so we should—”

“Will there be drinking?” Manning asked.

Tiffany hooked her elbow in his. “Why don’t we go and find out?”

“Yes,” Manning said. “Let’s.”

Tiffany slow-blinked, over exaggerating her surprise. “Really? You want to go out?”

“After we talk,” Dad said to Manning, then looked at Corbin and me. “It’s nice to see you again, Corbin. You never said how your family is.”

“Doing well.” His voice, always strong and confident, reverberated against my back. “Looking forward to our annual Hawaii trip.”

“And how’s NYU?”

“Great. I’m starting an internship on Wall Street next year, actually.”

“Wall Street,” Dad said enthusiastically. “How about that? Even at my age, that sounds daunting.”

“I’m not worried, sir,” Corbin said. “Just excited.”

“Such ambition, just like Lake.” Dad raised his beer can to us. “I can see why she’s so smitten with you.”

“Dad,” I said, horrified. I had never once spoken to him about Corbin in a romantic way. My mom, yes, but only to explain there was nothing more than friendship between us. Corbin didn’t need any encouragement.

“Sorry, sorry,” Dad said, laughing. “I forget what it’s like to have a teenage crush.” He glanced at Manning. “It can feel like the whole damn world, can’t it?”