While I showered, Duncan called Phoebe and suggested we should all ride together. Knowing Duncan, he wants to use us an excuse to leave the party early if he’s bored. Truth be told, I was surprised Kelsey wasn’t already at the Strombergs. She and Mrs. S have been bosom buddies since Duncan proposed over spring break. When he showed me the ring on our way to the airport that morning I thought he was joking. He wasn’t. Duncan and I have been close for years, but he’s definitely the immature one of the two of us. After I stopped laughing, he explained how Kelsey was the girl for him, his one true love or some shit, and I was stunned silent.
When he explained it was step one and the actual wedding wouldn’t be for a few years, I knew he was an idiot. I know Kelsey, and I know his mom, which means a wedding was imminent regardless of what he thought. So, this New Year’s Eve, instead of riding the slopes in Colorado like we had planned, we’ll be in Florida, and I’ll be making a best man toast.
And, no, none of us are from Florida nor have we spent much time there. But Kelsey and Duncan decided it’s the only place for their wedding. It is, after all, where they got engaged. I’m okay with it; it’s also where I finally got the girl. I’m looking forward to a week with Phoebe in the sand and sun, while the northern part of the country is covered in snow.
Phoebe wasn’t surprised by the fast-tracked wedding plans either. As Kelsey’s roommate and best friend, she was privy to all of her life goals and plans, regardless of how ridiculous she thought they were. After she agreed to take the plunge and actually date me, I told her about Duncan’s assumption for a long engagement. She laughed harder than I’d ever heard her laugh before. Phoebe may be Duncan’s twin sister, but she is loyal to Kelsey and never mentioned the four-inch binder of wedding plans under her bed. Poor Duncan. He never stood a chance.
Once I’ve buttoned the last button of my shirt, I walk out to the living room where Phoebe, Kelsey, and Duncan are waiting.
“What’s up, man?” Duncan greets me with a fist bump.
“Nothing, much.” I glance at my watch and the girls, sitting on the couch. Phoebe left her hair natural like I suggested. She looks beautiful as always, but when she’s like this, natural and unfiltered, I can’t help falling a little more in love with her. Yep, I’m fully whipped, and I don’t care. “We should probably get going, we’re cutting it close.”
“We’re ready,” Kelsey announces as she giggles at something Phoebe whispers to her, causing Duncan and me to look at them questioningly.
“What? I said you look hot, babe, and if we don’t leave I’m going to make us really late.”
“Jesus, Phoebs. I’m right here. Stop perving out on Mads.” Duncan acts visibly disgusted with Phoebe’s declaration, but he’s one to talk. We’ve had to listen to him go on and on about his and Kelsey’s sex life for over a year. I’m all for being close, but sometimes I wonder if he forgets Phoebe is his twin sister.
“Oh, shut up. Happy birthday by the way. You’re welcome for sharing the womb with me.”
“You’re welcome for sharing the womb with me. Respect your older brother, sis.”
And so, it begins. For the next two hours, we listen to Duncan and Phoebe verbally spar and pick at one another while I drive and Kelsey taps her phone in the backseat. The one guarantee when Phoebe and Duncan are together is the picking. It’s full of love, but if we could just have one night without bickering that’d be great.
The email from the headhunter is still in the forefront of my mind, and I can’t wait to tell Phoebe about it. I know she’ll be excited for me, and moving to the fashion capital of the United States is just a bonus for her. I have no doubt in my mind that once we’re living on our own, away from our parents and friends, she’ll finally put a label on our relationship.
“I don’t know why they insist on such a production.” Phoebe hates when her parents make a huge fuss over anything she does, but for some reason this birthday and graduation have been extra frustrating to her over the last few months. I pull behind a Bentley and am instantly reminded of how well off the Strombergs are. When I approach the valet stand, a guy a few years younger than us opens my door.
“Sir, your ticket.”
“Thanks, man,” I reply and stuff the ticket stub into my pocket and walk around to take Phoebe’s hand. Duncan and Kelsey have already made their way to the pathway leading to the side of the house. I know the party is set up in the backyard, and there will be a large tent housing dozens of tables, at least two fully stocked bars, and since the only thing Phoebe and Duncan agree on is tacos, a taco truck parked to the side. The looks Mr. and Mrs. Stromberg gave Phoebe and Duncan when they insisted on an actual taco truck were priceless. It’s the looks memes are made of. Hilariously horrified.
“Thanks for being here.” Phoebe smooths the front of her dress as we walk.
“Hey,” I say, tugging her off the pathway and apologizing to passersby as I do. “Where else would I be?”
“I don’t know. I just . . . you know how I get. I hate all of this.” She pauses, waving her hand around dismissively. “I just want to live my life. Why couldn’t we just go out to dinner like normal people. Why do my parents have to do all of this? And, to such an extreme? A tent? It’s so pretentious.”
I release Phoebe’s hand to place my hands on her hips. As I pull her toward me, her breath hitches, and her hands instantly find their way behind my neck. We look like we’re dancing. Maybe we are. Sometimes it feels like we’re dancing around the future, never really moving forward and, thankfully, not moving backward. But, unlike now, the relationship dance is me waiting for her to finally give in and let me lead.
“Your parents love you, and they want you to have the best. There’s nothing wrong with that. Sure, it’s a little over the top for you and me, but for them it’s what they do.”
“I know. Ugh, and I feel like such a jerk complaining. I know everyone will ask for all of these plans I’m supposed to have. Like, you get that degree and suddenly you’re supposed to have all the answers. Mads, I don’t have answers.”
“Nobody says you have to have the answers. Look, we have the entire summer to figure everything out. I want to talk to you about some stuff later, but this is your birthday. You deserve to be celebrated, so when someone asks you about your plans tell them you’re working on it and happy to be here with the people who love you the most. Can you do that?”
“I can. I guess I did what my parents asked of me in college.”
“Yeah?”
“I didn’t get pregnant and shame my father, and I am happy when I’m with you. That’s all my mom has wanted, for me to be happy.”
“Well, I agree with your mom. And, honestly? Your dad, too. Not the shaming, but I don’t think we’re ready for a little Madsen, yet. I mean, he’d clearly be the cutest and coolest kid around but not just yet.”
I watch her eyes widen as I speak the word “yet,” and I smack a kiss to her lips and turn her toward the pathway. A smack on the ass causes Phoebe to yelp as she turns and shoots me a mischievous look. “I know where you sleep, Secksin, don’t push it.”
“Oh, I’ll push it all right,” I tease as we approach the backyard.
“There you are! Honey, where have you been? Hello, Madsen.”
“Mrs. Stromberg. You look lovely.” I’ve heard buddies complain about their girlfriend’s mothers, going on and on about how annoying they are. I’m very lucky in that regard, Mrs. S has never been anything other than welcoming and kind to me.
“Oh, you charmer. And, please call me Evelyn.” Bashful for only a fraction of second, Mrs. S, err . . . Evelyn, glances toward Phoebe, who rolls her eyes.
“Yes, ma’am, Evelyn. The party looks great,” I say, gesturing toward the backyard.
“Thank you. Sweetie, you look beautiful. Happy birthday.” Evelyn pulls Phoebe into a warm embrace, and I watch as Mr. Stromberg makes his way across the patio toward us. Carrying a glass of amber liquid, his stride is determined, but the expression on his face is one of an adoring father.
Mr. S has always been nice to me and treated me like a member of the family. As Duncan’s best friend and roommate for the last four years, I’ve been to the house many times. It’s only been since Phoebe and I have been dating that he’s actually talked to me like an adult and not some kid that his son hangs out with.
“Sir,” I say as I extend my hand in greeting.
“Madsen, how are you, son?”
“Good, thank you.”
Mr. Stromberg will always be “sir” or “Mr. S” until he tells me otherwise. He embraces Phoebe and wishes her a happy birthday. After our short chat with her parents, Phoebe and I say hellos to a few aunts and uncles on our way to the bar. I’m driving but know we’ll be here for at least four hours, so I get a beer from the bartender and order Phoebe a glass of wine while she talks with her cousins. The progression from Duncan’s best friend to Phoebe’s boyfriend, I don’t care what she says, has been seamless when it comes to the family. Thankfully introductions aren’t necessary. I hand Phoebe her wine and leave her with the ladies while I seek out Duncan and a group of our friends.
After the cocktail hour, Mr. S takes to the microphone and asks everyone to find their seats. The taco truck is a hit with the younger crowd, and everyone grumbles at losing their place in line. With a reassurance that not only will the tacos still be there when he’s done but a toast is coming, which includes more free booze, the line at the taco truck disburses and everyone locates a seat at the round tables. Phoebe, Duncan, Kelsey, and I take our assigned spots at the head table next to Evelyn.
Always the perfect host, Mr. Stromberg thanks everyone for coming, wishes a happy birthday to Phoebe and Duncan, and congratulates the four of us and our friends in attendance on college graduation. I tune him out as I watch Phoebe watch her father. As much as she hates the over-the-top party her parents give, she loves her parents and admires her father. When he calls her and Duncan to the front she hesitates and looks at me. I wink at her, and she smiles back. Standing and walking to her dad, he shakes Dunc’s hand before placing his arm around Phoebe’s shoulder and pulling her to his side.
“These two are the light of our lives. We are very proud of what they have both accomplished. Duncan is engaged to Kelsey, who we love and can’t wait to officially join our family, and Phoebe is . . . well, she’s with Madsen, who is a wonderful young man and treats her like any father would wish for their daughter to be treated.”
I’m taken aback by his words. I know Mr. S likes me fine, but to hear him announce it in this capacity is unexpected. I look at Kelsey, who looks equally as surprised as I am. I shrug, and she makes a weird face before looking at the trio in front of us as he signals Evelyn to join them. After a few more words and the promise of cake soon, Mr. S starts telling a story about when the family would take trips to California for summer vacation. I remember Duncan telling me how much fun they had at a beach house when they were little, but as they started high school and had other commitments, those trips stopped.
“That’s why when my beautiful wife wanted to do something over the top for the kids to celebrate not only their birthdays but also their accomplishments, we decided to give them a piece of their childhood.” Phoebe and Duncan look at each other confused and then at each of their parents. When they look at Kelsey and me, we both shake our heads, signaling we have no idea what is going on.
Mr. S pulls two keychains with a single key on each from his pocket, handing one to Phoebe and the other to Duncan. Someone shouts from the back of the patio that he’s up for adoption if houses are gifts when you turn twenty-three and Evelyn shushes him.
“Dad? What’s this for?” Duncan asks.
“Son, those are keys to the California house.”
“You’re giving us a house?” Duncan’s voice increases ten decibels before he clears it.
“Not the house itself, Dunc. But yes, the house is yours for the summer. Take Madsen and Kelsey and live it up. You only have the summer after college once, and you should have a great time. What better way than on a California beach?”
Holy shit. We’re going to California. Just as I think the words, the DJ begins playing LL Cool J’s “Going Back to Cali” and the entire room breaks out in applause. I look at Phoebe and her expression is less enthusiastic than that of her twin. She looks horrified. This can’t be good.