Page 72 of The Fast Lane

I shrugged. “I can’t get over you being a grown-up and all. Or that man bun? Seriously?”

Abe pointed his spoon at me. “My man bun is awesome.”

“Ooo-kay. If you say so. Are you wearing t-shirts with ironic statements these days? Have you recently had a strong urge to grow a beard, start a record collection, or learn to play the banjo?”

“Are you done?”

“Have you started wearing,” I laced my voice with over-the-top horror, “skinny jeans?”

“Whatever.”

I laughed hard enough to snort. After glaring at me, Abe’s mouth turned up into a grin.

“You love me.”

He gave my ponytail a tug. “I love you.”

“’Cause I am adorable.”

“Don’t push it.”

The quiet and chill of the night settled around us as we sat in companionable silence. Abe took a few more bites of the ice cream and set it aside.

“You okay?” I asked.

He rested his elbows on his knees and dangled his hands between his legs. “I’m thinking.”

“Got it.” I curled my feet under me and waited him out.

After what felt like ten solid minutes, he straightened. “Theo told me about his dad this afternoon.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I tried to imagine what that would be like, to not know your dad.”

I pictured my father with his gruff exterior and squishy inside. “It’s hard to even think about.”

Staring into the dark backyard, he rubbed his neck. “I’ve been living like I don’t have a father for years now.”

My breath caught at the mix of sadness and regret in his voice. But I didn’t know what to say to that. Because I knew it was true.

“I’m going to the wedding,” he said quietly.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.” His shoulders drooped a little. “I have no idea how this will go. But it’s impossible to say no to you and Theo and Cal when you gang up on me.”

My excitement curbed. “Don’t go because of us. Go because you want to.”

“That’s the thing. Between the three of you, it’s all I’ve been thinking of. I’m nervous but I think it’s the right thing. I-I want to see Mom and Frankie and?—”

“Dad?” I reached out and clutched his arm.

“Even Dad.” He turned to me, half of his face illuminated by the dim back porch light. “I need to do it for me and for Hallie.”

“It’s going to be okay.” I was going with blind optimism here. “At least you’ll get cake out of it.”

He snorted. “At least I’ll get cake.”