Cross Country Hearts by Suzanne August
Twenty Seven
“So, what do you say?”
In less than an hour, April and Carlisle are married. In all the rush, I have no time to talk to Jasper. As soon as we’re ushered back down the aisle and wedding photos are done, my mother grabs my arm and orders me to help her and Hannah with the reception. We grab the necessary items and get out of the church parking lot before anyone else. Only a few guests arrive before we go to the hotel hosting the reception hall.
While my mother is busy bossing around the hotel staff, my aunt and I go around the tables and place paper airplanes on each plate, with each plane holding chocolate. But really, there’s nothing else to do because the hotel staff have done everything else. That means Hannah and I wait by the door while my mother finishes up.
“You did good, June,” my aunt says.
I only look at her briefly, but it feels good to hear her say it. “For getting Carlisle?”
Her hand gently squeezes my shoulder. “Yes.”
She’s probably still upset with me, but I know this is one step in the right direction, and I’ll take it.
Ten minutes later, the reception hall fills with over one hundred wedding guests. I sit beside April at the center table. When Jasper walks in to sit beside Carlisle, I don’t shy away from Jasper’s gaze. I look at him straight on, and when he sees me, I smile. It’s not a big one, but it says we could maybe work out a truce. And maybe more than that.
Jasper smiles back, and I know he’s thinking the same thing. Without a doubt, and I don’t need to decipher his expressions to figure it out.
Dinner consists of salad before a choice of chicken, vegetarian, or steak. It goes by in a happy blur, and I even get in a full glass of champagne before anyone notices, and I have to switch to water. April hugs me more than once, and more than once, I catch her almost about to cry from happiness. The reception hall is loud, full of laughter, and bursting in the wedding colors of purple and white. The kids can’t sit still; they run around the tables throwing paper airplanes.
And then, before I’m ready, it’s time for toasts. Jasper stands up first, and although I expect him to take his time and come up with a long, beautifully said speech, he doesn’t.
Instead, he says simply, “Carlisle, you’ve been the brother I’ve never had, and you’re the core of what I call family. I can’t believe you survived this long enough to get married to someone.” Jasper tips his glass of water toward my sister and nods. “But I’m so glad it’s April because I know without a doubt you’ll drive each other crazy, which is exactly what you need to stay sane, cousin. You still have to convince her to like the ocean, though.”
Everyone laughs and clinks glasses. I stand on unsteady feet and raise my glass, figuring it’s too lame to pretend I’m drinking anything but water. “April, I can’t pretend to be happy I get to give your toast with water, but I guess it would’ve been too much to ask you to wait four more years to marry Carlisle.”
Everyone laughs, but all it does is make me blush. I’ve always hated being the center of attention.
“You’re the greatest older sister anyone could ask for,” I say. “You’ve always been there for me, and I like to think that from this day forward, I’ll always be there for you when Carlisle overcooks the chicken like he always does or when he takes too long getting ready because I know you only take ten minutes before you’re ready to be out the door.”
I swallow because at this moment, it hits me that April won’t be living in Boston any longer, close to me, but how could I be unhappy? After seeing the last few hours, I know she’s the happiest she’s ever been.
I raise the glass a little higher. “To you guys, who will always be there for each other. No one could be more perfect together than you both are. Love you.”
Everyone cheers, and I sit down quickly. Across the table, Jasper gives me another small smile, which I return, and then we’re listening to more toasts.
Eventually, the music starts and the dance floor fills up. I know the cake will arrive in an hour or so, but I make my way over to the buffet of desserts and pick at brownies and chocolate chip cookies. It’s on the second cookie that I realize are homemade before it dawns on me that these must be the homemade cookies Lila was raving about. The ones made by Jasper’s grandmother.
“Think they’re good?”
I take my time turning around because, at this point, I don’t think Jasper could surprise me. Coming face to face, I hand over a cookie. “They’re amazing.”
He’s still wearing that small smile he gave me earlier, and something inside my chest feels warm. He says, “I’ve always thought so.”
“Think we should steal some for Lila?”
One of those eyebrows raises. “Think you’d be able to steal your mother’s car again?”
“Depends. Did you tell Carlisle about my awful driving skills?”
Jasper shrugs, and it’s only a little sheepish.
I almost laugh, but I can’t. No matter how much I want to try and salvage whatever is happening between me and Jasper, and no matter how much his new portrait of me says the same, the fight two days earlier is still a gulf between us. I can’t ignore it.
I set my plate of desserts down on the buffet table. As I do, I have to glance away, but when I look back to Jasper, his expression has become an open book, and I know he knows what’s coming. He’s apprehensive, maybe even a little nervous. And I think that, for once, we’re both feeling the same emotions.
But before I say anything, Jasper does first.
“You were right,” he says. He’s quiet, and although his voice doesn’t carry a lot of emotion, his eyes say enough.
And I suddenly think, how could I have ever thought his eyes were a dull brown? They’re the opposite. If anything, the chocolate Lindt irises serve as the greatest indicator of what he’s thinking, of all the emotions he’s always feeling.
“I was right about what?” I ask, just as quiet as he is.
Jasper breathes in slowly, letting out a long sigh. “That I’ve never apologized to you.”
I nod because I knew this was coming. I knew, as soon as I unfolded the paper drawing inside that church, that his new portrait of me was his form of an apology. If there’s anything I’ve learned about Jasper over the past week, it’s that he expresses himself through art, whether it’s on paper or through the painting of words said aloud. Not too long ago, he would have—and he did—paint me as a monster. It was an awful thing to do, even if I’d always been awful to him.
But this new portrait added nothing to what isn’t already there. It’s just me, in my true form. He doesn’t sugarcoat it or detract from it. It’s reality.
It’s his way of saying he’s sorry.
I take a step forward. “I forgive you, Jasper.”
He’d been smiling, but now the little crinkles around his eyes sprout and his brown irises deepen in color. They’re happy. Relieved.
I take another step forward and put my arms around his shoulders. “I’m sorry, too.”
“I know,” he says because if there’s anything he’s learned about me this past week, it’s that I’m the easiest open book to read out there. His arms wrap around my waist, and he hugs me tight.
Up until now, our history has been that of bully and victim, but the day we started driving together into my mother’s red Honda was the day our histories began to converge and a new kind of definition about us written. I don’t know exactly what that history will become, but I do know it will never again be that of bully and victim. I won’t ever let it become that again.
I pull away first. “So, what do you say? Think we can be friends?”
He laughs. “That’s it?”
I raise my eyebrows. “You’ve got to take me on a date first.”
“Well, what do you say we get out of this joint and get some burgers and fries?”
“You call that a first date?”
He looks around, eyes on an unfinished plate of salad at the table closest to us. And then I finally laugh because Jasper and I definitely get each other when it comes to food. My sister has always been a health nut, and whenever I’m with her, I’ve always just wanted some fries and a good, old-fashioned burger. This wedding is no different.
I grab his hand. “Yeah, I guess I’d call that a great first date.”
And with my other hand, I wrap my palm around the back of his neck and pull his mouth to mine. His mouth tastes like the mints left on the table, mixed with the chocolates left in the paper airplanes.
When I pull away, I see that he’s smiling. “I think that’s a good apology.”
“Or a great start to a first date,” I say.
His eyes roam the room, and when they land back on me, with that one eyebrow raised again, he says, “How easily do you think we could escape?”
I groan. “Maybe not for another hour.”
“Well…” the hand that I’m still holding squeezes mine.”What do you say? Think you can teach me to dance?”
“What makes you think I can dance?”
“Maybe you never saw me at the high school homecoming dances, but I saw you.”
I laugh again because while that sounds romantic, it’s not. “Yeah, and the only reason you were watching me was because you were plotting how to draw my monster claws.”
He doesn’t deny it. But I think we’ve already made it to the stage in our budding relationship that we can joke about the monster claws, if nothing else.
After one or two more of his grandmother’s stereotypical cookies, we make our way to the dance floor and dance. And, so what if he kisses me a few times, in front of everyone?
Because I don’t mind it when Jasper King kisses me.