Chapter Text
Cassie would like it on record that she deserves to be at the adult table.
Over her shoulder, she spots where Christopher is sitting with his girlfriend Izzy, surrounded by who her dads deemed to be ‘the adults’. It’s only Harry, Denny, and their partners, so Cassie definitely could have made the cut, is what she’s saying.
Sure, she’s only seventeen, but she turns eighteen in six months, okay? Instead, she’s stuck with the Dunst twins—all four of them—and her cousin, plus her little sister, Vanessa. And look, she loves everyone at this table—they’re her family—but she’s like, way more mature than them. She’s going to university in the fall; she’s basically an adult.
Christopher catches her gaze and, like the mature twenty-four-year-old he is, sticks out his tongue. This just proves her point, really—her dumb older brother can sit at the adult table but she can’t? Stupid.
If she sends back a goofy face that makes Christopher laugh hard enough for Izzy to ask if he’s okay, that has no bearing on her argument to join the adults at the adult table.
They’re probably having better conversation than whatever’s happening here, anyways. Noah is on his phone and hasn’t looked up in over twenty minutes; Tristan is attempting to engage Jee-Yun in conversation and steadily turning brighter shades of red; Margot and Siena abandoned the table before Cassie even sat down, so she has no idea where they are; and Nessa is sitting quietly at her right, doing nothing but somehow still being so goddamn annoying.
Her baby sister used to be the cutest thing on the planet—all Cassie wanted was to climb into Nessa’s crib and cuddle her while she slept, or be near her while she played. Now she’s ten years old and just the sound of her breathing has her contemplating knocking over Noah’s glass of Mountain Dew, sending neon green liquid seeping into the pristine white tablecloths her dads so painstakingly picked out.
She won’t actually knock over the glass, because she is a grown almost-adult and won’t create a scene to get herself out of an irksome situation. Even if she really, really wants to. Noah probably wouldn’t even look up from his phone.
Cassie sighs, rolling her eyes. Fifteen year olds.
“I’m going to say hi to Chris,” Cassie says to the table, even though only one person is listening to her.
“Can I come?” Nessa asks, peering up at her with beseeching dark eyes. Considering she’s not actually related to either of her dads, she looks surprisingly like Eddie when she does that.
“No,” Cassie replies, already standing up. “Stay here.”
“But I wanna go with you.”
“Sucks to be you, then,” Cassie says, grabbing at the skirt of her dress so she doesn’t trip as she walks away. She’s wearing heels tonight—the look on Eddie’s face when she stood up and was taller than him will be one she’ll remember until the day she dies.
However, they do make it slightly difficult to walk, so she’s slow and careful as she makes her way over to the adult table.
“Took you long enough,” is what Christopher says when she gets close enough.
She raises her eyebrows at him. “We’re practically the same speed now.”
Christopher snorts. “Rude.”
Cassie finds an empty chair at another table and drags it over, wedging it in between her brother and Izzy. She’s busy talking to Denny’s girlfriend anyway.
“Dude,” she groans. “When is this party gonna be over?”
“It just started,” he deadpans.
“Ugh.”
“It’s nice,” Christopher says, speaking slowly like Cassie is five years old all over again. “It’s a celebration of our dads’ love and commitment to one another.”
“Barf.”
“They’ve been married for ten years,” he continues. “That’s a long time.”
“It’s not that long.”
“I know you’re going through this whole I hate everyone and everything phase of your life–”
“I am not–”
“–but instead of going on a vacation and celebrating their anniversary by themselves, they decided to throw a huge party and invite literally everyone they know.” Christopher gestures towards Harry, who throws up a peace sign to Cassie, and she smiles back. “I haven’t seen Harry since undergrad.” Then he turns to Denny and shrugs. “I saw Denny last month, but still. This is nice.”
“That’s because you’re old and your friends are here.”
“Your friends are here!” Christopher shoots back.
“Noah and Tristan are not my friends,” Cassie says, holding up an indignant finger. “They’re my annoying little brothers.”
“It’s like you have no idea how annoying you were when you were fifteen.”
She gasps loudly. “First of all, I was never annoying. Second of all, how would you know? You were gone.”
“Not this again,” he grumbles.
“You were literally gone.”
“I was downtown.”
“That means you weren’t at home, dumbass. Ergo, gone.”
“I came home all the time.”
“Whatever.”
“Good comeback.”
Actually, now that she’s thinking about it, Cassie’s glad she didn’t get seated at this table. “I hate you.”
Christopher smiles. “I love you too.”
“Ugh.”
Nessa comes skipping up—she kind of looks like a fairy tonight, all fancy in her wispy pink dress and butterfly flats, her hair pulled back and fastened with sparkly barrettes. Cassie’s about to pull her into lap, but then she sees that her phone is clutched in Nessa’s hand.
“Why do you have my phone?” Cassie snaps.
“Your boyfriend called,” Nessa singsongs.
“Cy isn’t my boyfriend,” she tells her sister scathingly, yanking her phone back.
Nessa grins, disgustingly smug. “Then how did you know exactly who I was talking about?”
“Go bother someone else,” Cassie bites out, abandoning the adult table so she can focus wholly on her phone. She thinks she can hear Izzy inviting Nessa to take Cassie’s chair, the three of them talking about what Nessa’s learning at school before she completely tunes them out, lifting her phone to her ear.
Pretty much no one calls anyone nowadays, but Cy’s old school like that. He even leaves voicemails instead of just texting her like a normal person.
“Hey Cass,” comes Cy’s voice, clearer once she heads into an abandoned room of the party hall. He sounds off—kind of jittery, almost nervous. “I know you’re at your dads’ anniversary party, but I thought maybe you’d be bored and have your phone on you. Anyways, I have some, um, news?” His tone reaches an embarrassingly high pitch; he clears his throat. “So I wanted to tell you right away. Call me back whenever you can, no rush. Okay, bye.”
As if Cassie’s going to go the entire night without knowing what Cy’s news is. She calls him back immediately.
“Cy’s phone,” he says as a greeting. Cassie found it utterly pretentious when she first heard it, but now it makes her feel fond.
“Hey, what’s going on?” she asks. “What’s the news?”
“Before I tell you anything, you need to promise me something.”
He sounds so serious. Cassie is helpless to reply, “Of course. What is it?”
“When you’re rich and famous, promise to remember me.”
Cassie blinks at the ugly carpet in the empty room. It’s pulling up a little bit in the corner, and she toes at it with the pointy part of her shoe. “Huh?”
“Okay, so you know how my mom is like, a music producer?”
She almost rolls her eyes. Of course she knows his mom is a music producer—it’s why Cy spends most afternoons at the Diaz household. According to him, he used to be starstruck by every artist who walked into the at-home studio, but now he’s sick of having random people traipsing through his house, looking over his shoulder and striking up small talk.
Every time Cy brings it up, she reminds him that he lives in a mansion. There are multiple other rooms he could hang out in that are several thousand square feet away from his mom’s studio. Somehow, he always has a rebuttal about why he prefers being at her house, and if Cassie’s being honest, she never presses too hard.
“Yes, I know your mom’s a producer.”
“And you remember how you were helping me with Mrs. Alvarez’s art project at my house last week? The one about the portraits?”
“Oh shit,” Cassie realizes. “I still haven’t come to pick that up. Sorry, my dad’s jeep is in for servicing and there’s no way I’m driving my dad’s truck, so–”
“No, no, it’s totally fine, it’s not about that,” Cy interrupts. “I can always bring it to school, or drop it off at yours. Or you can come to mine. Uh, anyways, yeah, not about that.”
“Okay,” she says dubiously. “Then what’s up?”
“So basically I just kind of, uh, left all of our art stuff out. I never put it away.”
Cy stops there, like that explains anything. Cassie blurts out, “So what? Now your mom hates me and never wants me to come over again? You’re grounded and now we can’t get ice cream on Monday? Dude, you’re giving me absolutely nothing here.”
“Your mind goes very strange places,” Cy comments.
“Cyrus,” she growls.
“I’m getting there, geez. Let a guy build some dramatic suspense, will you?”
“You’ve built plenty, come on.”
“Have I ever told you that my mom is producing Mateo’s new album?”
Cassie gapes at the blank wall. “Are you fucking joking right now?”
“I wouldn’t joke about Mateo with you,” Cy says seriously, which is good, because holy fucking shit.
Cassie grew up in LA, okay? She’s seen her fair share of celebrities on the streets getting coffee or on their way to the gym. She doesn’t get starstruck, and she definitely doesn’t fangirl.
But Mateo? Mateo No-Last-Name because he’s so well-known he doesn’t need one? The solo artist who rocketed to fame when he was only seventeen with an EP of songs he wrote himself, whose first album debuted at unprecedented levels on the music charts and stayed that way for two months straight? The guy whose music has played on repeat in her room for two years straight, has been in the background of every drive she and Cy have taken together?
Cassie has normal feelings about Mateo.
“I didn’t know he was working on his second album,” is what she finally manages to say.
“Yeah, man,” Cy says. “Oh, I recorded a snippet of what they were working on, I’ll play it for you on Monday.”
“You did not,” Cassie squeals.
“I did,” he says, sounding proud of himself.
“I could kiss you,” she blurts out, and then before Cy can say anything, she asks, “but what does Mateo have to do with our art project?”
“Well, on the way into the studio, he saw the portrait you did of me,” Cy says, and hearing that right after her declaration about wanting to kiss him makes her cringe.
What possessed her to do a portrait of Cy when he was literally right there? She supposes he did approve of it, even found a good photo for her to reference. He also complimented her technique afterwards when he knows nothing about art, even told her that the bright lime and neon pinks she used reminded him of pop art. Which isn’t exactly what she was going for, but she appreciates Cy’s effort.
“He liked how it was abstract but still looked like me. He wants you to do the art for his album cover.”
What the actual, literal fuck.
“Cy,” she breathes. “That’s not funny.”
“I know,” he says. “That’s why I’m not joking.”
“You’re—you’re serious?”
“Yeah.”
“He wants me to do the cover art for his album? Me?”
“Yes,” he laughs. “I already told him you would, so.”
“You’re pulling my leg.”
“I swear I’m not.”
“Pinky swear,” she says immediately.
Cy chuckles, low and warm in her ear. “I pinky swear.”
She has to take a second to comprehend that. “Holy shit.”
“I know.”
“Holy fucking shit.”
“You haven’t even heard the best part.”
Cassie resists the urge to take her phone in both hands and tear it in two. “What’s the best part?”
“He wants to meet you. Wants to play the album for you so you can, I don’t know, let the music inspire you, or whatever.”
“Okay, now you’re pulling my leg.”
“Cass, I pinky swear to you that I’m not. I didn’t even get an invite, I’m super jealous.”
“You’re actually being serious?”
“Yes. What’s it gonna take to get you to believe me?”
“Pinch me,” she says.
Cy pauses, then replies, “I could do that.”
“Oh my god. Oh my god.” Once it finally sinks in that she’s going to hear Mateo’s new album before literally anyone else, she remembers something. “I guess I won’t need that recording you made after all.”
“Oh,” Cy says, quiet. He huffs a laugh, jarring through the speaker. “Yeah, I guess not.”
“I’ll still listen,” she hurries to say.
“Nah, you don’t have to.”
“I want to,” she replies, then wonders why she said that.
“You’ll be able to hear it through the actual sound studio eventually,” Cy tells her.
“Yeah, but…I want to listen with you. You’re the one who introduced me to him. His music, it’s…I don’t know. Ours.”
Cy doesn’t say anything for a long time; Cassie contemplates hanging up and throwing her phone out the nearest window.
“Yeah. It is,” he finally says, and Cassie lets out a relieved breath. “Hey, completely random question for you. When does your party end?”
Cassie groans. “We haven’t even had dinner yet.”
“So at least a couple hours,” Cy guesses.
“At least,” she agrees.
“Cool. I gotta go, but I’ll see you soon, okay?”
“Okay,” she says. “Bye.”
She waits for Cy’s, “Bye,” before hanging up. Then she stares at the blank wall of the empty room, drops into a crouch as she lets her phone fall to the floor, and screams into her cupped hands.
Mateo, her favorite artist in the whole entire world, likes her art. He likes her art so much that he wants her to do the album art for his sophomore album. What the fuck.
She needs to tell someone, and who she’s going to tell first isn’t even a question.
Walking this fast in heels probably isn’t advised, but as Cassie finally makes her way back to the party, she feels like she’s about to explode.
Christopher sees her first. “Are you okay?” he asks as she gets closer.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she says, scanning the room with no luck. “Do you know where our dads are?”
“They’re probably near the front with everyone.”
“Okay, thanks,” she murmurs, and makes her way into the fray.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he calls after her, but Cassie doesn’t turn back. She’s a woman on a mission, and that mission is to find her dads.
Contrary to what she said earlier, she actually is really happy for them—she’s planning on giving a heartfelt speech about it and everything, not that her dads know. She’s also glad they threw a party—not everyone in their extended family lives in LA anymore, so it’s nice to see familiar faces that she hasn’t seen in a while.
But man, did her dads really have to invite half the goddamn state? All she wants to do is make it to the opposite side of the room, but it’s like wading through chest-high quicksand. When she stops to hug Pops, she gets roped into a conversation about university with May, which is awkward because Cassie’s going to UCLA and May went to USC.
Once she neatly sidesteps that conversation, Uncle Ravi steps into her path, wide-eyed, and asks, “Have you seen Amara or Naav?”
Cassie stares back. “Are they missing?”
“Seb and I were playing hide and seek with them, but it’s been ten minutes and we haven’t found them yet.”
“Uh oh.”
Ravi squeezes her shoulders. “Help me. Please.”
She says, “You owe me one.”
“Find my daughters and I’ll owe you two.”
“Deal,” she says, and holds out her hand.
Ravi shakes it, and then they’re off.
Despite Ravi assuring her he checked under all the tables, Cassie starts there. She’s babysat these kids enough times to know how their brains work—she’s willing to bet they’re changing their hiding spot, moving around every so often to a spot Ravi and Sebastian already checked. They’re probably watching the chaos from afar, giggling to themselves about a game well played.
Actually—that gives her an idea.
The party hall has a stage area for live music that isn’t being used, raised and off to the side. It would be perfect for watching from afar. When she looks over, she swears she sees the black curtain move.
“They’re in there,” she says, pointing towards the stage.
“I looked in there,” Ravi says.
Cassie rolls her eyes. “Come on.”
She tells him to check the stage again, loudly and incompetently like he did last time (“I’m not incompetent,” Ravi tells her dubiously) while she waits at the door to the backstage exit. All she has to do is wait a few minutes before the door opens and two very familiar faces emerge.
“Gotcha,” Cassie says. Suddenly, she knows how Uncle Chimney feels—she wishes she had some gum to snap right now.
Amara, the older of the two at eight years old, groans. “Aw, man.”
Naavya, who just turned six, grins brightly. “Hi Cassie!”
“Shut up, she caught us.”
“Oh yeah.”
“See, I told you they weren’t–” Ravi cuts himself off as he rounds the corner. “Oh.”
At the sight of their dad, Amara and Naavya squeal and take off down the hallway, and Ravi looks to Cassie pleadingly.
She raises her hands, taking a pointed step back. “Hey, the deal was that I help you find them.” She gestures to the empty air where Ravi’s kids used to stand. “I found them.”
Ravi drops his head back, then belatedly takes off after his daughters, yelling, “Girls! Come back here!”
“Remember that you owe me two favors!” she calls after him.
No response comes and she sighs, smoothing down her dress. Okay, back to the mission.
When she finally finds her dads, she understands instantly why she wasn’t able to find them earlier—they weren’t even in the room. They’re extremely un-subtle as they return from an abandoned hallway, Buck looking left and right before Eddie trails after him, his hand hidden somewhere Cassie really doesn’t want to think about right now.
“Gross,” she mutters, steeling herself as she meets them halfway. “Hey, can I talk to you guys about something?”
“Cassie! We were just–” Buck says immediately, then turns to Eddie when he loses steam. “Uh.”
Eddie snorts. “Smooth.”
If Cassie were bolder, she might comment on the fact that her dads couldn’t keep it in their pants for one party—one that’s for them, might she add—but then she remembers she doesn’t actually want to talk to her dads about their sex life, so she refrains.
“Can we talk somewhere else?”
“Is everything okay?” Eddie asks with a frown.
“Yeah, I just want to tell you both something.”
Her dads share a glance, doing that creepy silent communication thing they do.
“Sure,” Eddie says, conspicuously leading her away from the door he and Buck came from. “Let’s go outside.”
This hall must be popular for weddings, because the garden Eddie leads them to is beautiful, well manicured with lights strung up, glowing faintly against rustling leaves and the darkening sky. It’s a spring evening, the setting sun taking any warmth lingering in the air with it. Cassie doesn’t mind the chill—it’s actually kind of refreshing after running around the entire hall trying to find the Panikkar kids.
“What’s up?” Buck asks, and he looks vaguely worried, so Cassie doesn’t waste another second.
“You know Mateo? The singer?”
“Of course,” Buck replies at the same time Eddie asks, “Who?”
“You know who Mateo is.” Buck rolls his eyes. “He’s the one who sings that song you like. Voyage.”
“Oh yeah,” Eddie says. “He’s good. What about him?”
“Remember how I was at Cy’s house working on the portrait for Mrs. Alvarez’s class?”
“Uh huh.”
“Yup.”
“Apparently, Cy’s mom is helping produce Mateo’s second album–”
“He hasn’t come out with new stuff in years,” Buck says, already excited. Cassie loves her dad so much.
“I know. Anyways, I forgot to bring the portrait home and Mateo saw it and he liked it.”
Both her dads erupt into cheers of enthusiasm, and she loves them so, so much, but she hasn’t even told them the exciting part yet.
“No, no, guys, you don’t get it. He liked it so much that he wants me to make the art for his next album cover.”
“And that’s a good thing?” Eddie asks.
“It’s fucking incredible!” Cassie blurts out.
“Language,” her dads intone in unison, but they’re both grinning.
Buck scoops her into a hug. “I am so proud of you.”
“Thanks,” she says, and then she’s falling into Eddie’s waiting arms, letting him rock her side to side as he always has.
He pulls back, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Your art is phenomenal. It’s about time somebody took notice.”
“They have,” she laughs, because she didn’t get into her university program without submitting a portfolio of all of her best work.
“Still,” Eddie says. “That’s so cool. So when the album comes out, what you’ve painted will be on my phone where the album usually is? I’ll be able to look at it whenever I want?”
“I guess,” she says. She hasn’t thought that far ahead yet.
“I’m going to buy the album in every single format,” Buck says. “Vinyl—do they still sell CDs?”
“What are CDs?”
“I guess not,” he muses.
“I’m just—I’m really happy,” Cassie says. “He even wants me to listen to the album beforehand so I can match the music vibes to the art vibes.”
“You get a sneak peek of the new album?” Buck asks, mouth agape.
“Yup,” she tells him smugly.
“You know, I think you might need a chaperone for this listening party. How old is Mateo, anyway? I should definitely be there.”
“Dad,” she groans.
“I’m kidding,” Buck laughs, nudging her playfully.
“I’m not,” Eddie says, staring her down with a no-nonsense glare. It’s the same one he gave Cy the first time he came over. “How old is Mateo?”
“I don’t know,” Cassie says. “Like, twenty? Twenty-one?”
“No,” Eddie says instantly. “No way.”
“Dad,” she groans again. “Don’t make it weird. I don’t want to date him, or anything.”
Eddie narrows his eyes at her. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Buck leans into Eddie’s side and says, not quiet enough for Cassie not to hear, “She’s too hung up on that Cy kid anyway.”
Sputtering, Cassie finally manages, “I am not!”
“Oh, totally,” Eddie says, but he’s nodding and doing the silly frown that means he’s trying to be funny.
“Definitely not,” Buck agrees.
“You guys are so annoying,” she moans.
Against her intentions, Buck’s face lights up, and he turns to Eddie, grinning brightly. “Did you hear that? We’re being annoying.”
“We’re being annoying?” Eddie asks him faux-seriously, like he wants to double check.
“That’s what she said.”
“Well, I guess that means we’re doing our job correctly. That’s a parent’s job, right? Annoying their kids?”
“Ugh,” Cassie says, dragging out the groan. There’s no reasoning with her dads when they get in one of these moods, so she spins on her heel and stalks in the way they came, shaking her head.
She’s hiding a smile as she does it though, because the sound of her dads’ laughter follows her all the way inside.
“Nuh-uh,” Cassie says, wagging a finger at her sister. “Finish your vegetables.”
Then she promptly widens her eyes at nothing—who is she, her dad?
“I don’t wanna,” Nessa whines, pushing around the remaining green beans with her fork.
“How about you eat five more, and then you’re done.”
“Two,” she bargains.
“Four,” Cassie counters.
Nessa narrows her eyes, calculating. God, it’s like déjà vu—it’s times like this that Cassie wonders if her dads made up the whole we found her at the fire station story.
“Two and a half.”
Cassie stays firm. “Four.”
She sighs, stabbing a green bean like she’s been asked to walk the plank. “Fine.”
“But,” Cassie singsongs, “if you eat them all before they come out with dessert, I’ll dance with you later on.”
“Really?” Nessa asks.
“Uh huh.”
“Promise?”
Cassie sets her elbow on the table, offering a sacred, time-honored Diaz tradition (“Actually, it’s technically a Buckley tradition,” she can hear her dad chiming in her head), her pinky outstretched.
Nessa stares at it with wide eyes, then grins, small and conspiratorial. As Nessa’s pinky hooks around hers, Cassie says, “I promise.”
Aunt Maddie kicks off the speeches, starting off strong but dissolving into tears by the end. Across from Cassie, Jee-Yun sinks low in her seat, embarrassed.
Pops goes next—his words are both firm and warm, and he says a lot of things that have Cassie, along with her dads, tearing up. Nessa frowns up at her as she wipes away a few errant tears, but Cassie assures her she’s fine. She doesn’t need to know the full extent of Pops’ story, at least not yet.
Aunt Ava takes the mic after that, a welcome change to the somber atmosphere. She cracks jokes for two minutes straight, then finishes with, “Buck, I wanted to hate you on sight for taking Cassie in when I couldn’t.” She pauses, grinning. “But who could hate that face?” She lets the chuckles subside before continuing, “You and Eddie have done such an incredible job, and I am so grateful that you welcomed me and my family into yours. It has been such a blessing to be a part of, truly.”
Raising her glass of wine, she says, “To Buck and Eddie!” and everyone does the same, echoing to Buck and Eddie! Before she takes her seat, she blows a kiss to Cassie, and Cassie catches it out of the air, pressing it into her cheek.
She and Aunt Ava have had their ups and downs over the years—like she’s sure any mother and daughter do—but Cassie knows that Ava will be there for her whenever she needs it. She always has.
After Aunt Hen gives a sweet speech, Christopher is up. He’s always been the funniest person Cassie knows, so it’s predictable that his speech is essentially a three minute comedy roast. Watching her dads’ expressions at the pointed jabs might be funnier though, if that’s even possible. The only downside is that she’s next, and this is going to be a tough act to follow.
As she makes her way to the mic, set up near the front where her dads are sitting, the only thing running through her mind is don’t trip, don’t trip, don’t trip. Cassie clutches the mic stand once she’s close enough for stability.
When she chances a look up at her dads, they’re watching her with matching curious expressions. They hadn’t asked anyone to prepare speeches, but everyone knew Aunt Maddie was going to say something, and Pops, and then once Christopher mentioned he was preparing a twelve point stand-up routine, Cassie knew she had something to say, too.
Cassie wouldn’t say she loves public speaking, but she was too young at their actual wedding to say what she wants to tell them now. So she adjusts the mic stand a few inches higher and takes out a folded piece of paper. No one else had written anything down, but Cassie doesn’t want to forget what she’s planning to say.
“So, uh, hi,” Cassie says, feeling awkward already. “I know all of you probably know who I am, but for those of you who don’t, I’m Cassie. A couple of months before my fourth birthday, my mom and dad died in a car accident. I don’t remember them at all, but I know that they must have loved me a lot,” her tone turns dry, “because they wanted a kid so badly that they asked Evan Buckley to help them.”
Relief washes over her as the joke lands, laughter rippling through the crowd. Even Eddie is laughing, but it might be because of Buck’s offended expression. Cassie smiles down at the words she agonized over for weeks and thinks to herself, I can do this.
“Now, I’ve heard a lot of stories about Buck 1.0, so I know it was a brave decision of them to ask him. However, I also know it was a brave decision for my dad to agree—I think it was an incredibly selfless thing for him to do, and I’m really glad he did.” She chuckles slightly before adding, “But I’ll get to that later.
“My point here is that I’ve never known Buck and Eddie as Buck and Eddie,” she says, and even saying their names instead of calling them dad is so weird. “I’ve only ever known them as my dads. I remember when they told me they were getting married—I was so confused because I thought they already were.
“Aunt Maddie mentioned in her speech that she’s never seen Buck happier than when he’s with Eddie, but for me, that’s all I’ve ever known—a home full of love and happiness and light.” She tips her head, lips sliding into a smirk. “That’s not to say there haven’t been bad days, because let me tell you—when Eddie gets hangry, he’s hangry.”
Over the quiet chuckles, Cassie hears Eddie’s indignant, “I do not get hangry,” and Buck’s placating, “Of course not, dear.”
“Everyone likes to say that they had a hand in when my dads finally got together.” Going off script, she adds, “Even today, both Aunt Ava and Chris said it was them who nudged Buck and Eddie in the right direction. But I’ve been reliably informed that my dads officially got together pretty soon after my arrival. Let’s review that real quick: I show up, they start dating. I know correlation does not imply causation, but let’s face it, the evidence is pretty damning.”
Pausing for the laughter, she takes a steadying breath and continues.
“I would love to take credit for my dads’ epic love story, but I think a love like theirs transcends universes. I’d be willing to bet that in a parallel timeline where Aunt Ava took me in, or my mom and dad never died, or even if they asked Buck for help years later, Buck and Eddie still would have fallen in love. It might have taken them a bit longer, but they would have gotten there eventually. Or maybe at that point, Chris would’ve taken matters into his own hands and actually been the reason for them getting together.”
“I would have!” Christopher calls out, agreeing readily, much to the amusement of everyone around him.
“I know I’m in my I hate everyone and everything era,” she says, fake-glaring at Christopher, “and I don’t say it as much as I should, but dads–” she meets their gazes in turn, gratified to see their eyes look as misty as hers feel, “–I love you. You have always been so supportive of everything I do. Not a lot of parents actually attend every single art show their kid’s school puts on, or would let their sixteen year old daughter go to art camp in Europe for a week. I don’t think words could ever fully express how grateful I am for everything you do. You’ve given me more than I could ask for.”
Her words taper off as she fights back tears, breath shaky.
“Dad, someone told me once that thirteen and a half years ago, you could’ve refused becoming my guardian. But you didn’t. Instead, you took me in. Like I said, I don’t really remember it all that well, but I know I always felt safe with you. From the very beginning.”
Cassie’s eyes well up; she blinks hard and wipes away the tears quickly so she can see what she’s written.
“You gave me a family: two dads, an older brother, and a little sister. But you didn’t give me just that—you gave me Pops and Athena, Aunt Maddie and Uncle Chimney, Jee-Yun, Aunt Hen and Aunt Karen, Uncle Ravi and Uncle Sebastian, and a bunch of other people I can’t name because then we’ll be here all night. So I guess I want to say thank you. For choosing me.”
She risks a glance up, because if her dads are crying then she’s going to lose it, but they seem to be holding it together for now. Buck has a hand over his heart, and when she meets his gaze he points at her and mouths, “You chose me.” That makes her smile, but she’s not done yet, so she forges on.
“Dad,” she says, looking at Eddie this time. “I don’t think I’ve ever explicitly told you this, but even though I know we’re not related, you’re just as much my dad as Buck is. He chose me, but so did you. Every day, you wake up and choose to be my dad. I know I didn’t really choose to be your daughter, but also,” she huffs a laugh, “I kind of did. I’ve heard the can I have three dads story more times than I can possibly count, so I like to think that we all chose each other. Because that’s what family is, right? The people we love. The people we choose.”
Cassie sniffs, taking a second to collect herself. When she looks out at the crowd, her whole family smiles back. She only has one more paragraph to go—she can do this.
“Ten years ago, my dads got married. This was mostly a formality, because they were basically married already—they had the house and the three kids to prove it. Today, my dads decided to throw a party to celebrate their anniversary. I teased them about this endlessly, because it’s a little bit narcissistic to make people celebrate your love. But if I’m being honest, I’m glad they did, because I get to tell my dads how much I love them and how much they changed my life for the better.
“So thank you,” she says, instantly tearing up again when she sees her dads openly crying. “Thanks for being my dads. I love you more than you’ll ever know.”
Cassie feels like she blinks and then her dads are surrounding her—they don’t bother fighting over who can hug her first, simply scooping her up together.
“I think we have some idea,” Eddie murmurs, pressing a kiss to her temple.
“We love you so much,” Buck says, squeezing her tight. “Being your dad was one of the best decisions I ever made.”
“Ditto,” Eddie says.
It’s so ridiculous but it makes her laugh, and then they’re all laughing and pretending they’re not crying too. For a moment, Cassie wishes she hadn’t worn the heels so they could hold her like they used to, back when she was small enough to be completely enveloped in their arms.
But right now, wrapped so tight in their love it might as well be imprinted on her skin, she can’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else.
True to her word, Cassie drags Nessa onto the makeshift dance floor the second the music starts. By the third song, the floor is packed. Cassie’s known this for quite a while—there have been no shortage of weddings and parties over the years—but no one gets down quite like her family does when they have something to celebrate. It seems like everywhere she looks, someone is busting out a ridiculous move or doing something that has Cassie fearing for their back health.
Although, she is surrounded by firefighters, so she supposes they’ll be fine.
Christopher was in charge of the playlist but her dads must have had some influence, because alongside the new songs are some classics that have everyone over the age of forty whooping loudly. Cassie twirls between Jee-Yun and the Dunst twins during the more upbeat songs, spinning Nessa around during the slow ones.
A song that makes the floor vibrate beneath her has Cassie scanning the room for Noah—this is definitely his kind of song—but when she looks up, she spots–
Is that Cy?
Somebody dimmed the lights in the hall when it became clear that dancing was the only thing left on the schedule for tonight, so Cassie can’t be sure, but it sure looks like him: honey brown skin, head full of tight curls, pants that are too short for him because he grows an inch a week. He looks nice though, outfitted in a smart black jacket with a white collared shirt, the top three buttons undone.
He’s standing awkwardly by the entrance, hands in his pockets and eyes roaming—by the time Cassie pushes her way off the dance floor, he’s already caught sight of her, lifting a hand in an awkward wave.
“Hi,” she says, breathless and a little awed.
“Hey,” he replies. “If it’s weird that I’m here, say the word and I’ll jet.”
“No! It’s not weird at all. But, uh,” she glances around. For now, everyone is singing loudly about apple bottom jeans and getting low, but they won’t stay distracted forever. “Come this way.”
She leads Cy out the side door and into the garden Eddie brought them to earlier. The thumping bass fades into the background as she breathes in the cool air, spinning to face Cy once they’re alone.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
“I came to do this,” he says, then reaches out and pinches her arm.
Cassie flinches away, laughing despite the fleeting pain. “Ow! What the fuck, man?”
“You asked me to,” Cy shrugs, grin wide, and Cassie finds herself thinking for the millionth time that he has really cute teeth. “But mostly I wanted to make sure you believed me about the Mateo thing.”
“I do,” she tells him.
“Oh.”
She tilts her head to the side, watching him slyly. It’s hard to tell when he’s blushing, but the way he scrunches his nose and looks away is a dead giveaway.
“Did you drive all the way here to pinch me?”
“No,” Cy denies, then grimaces. “Yes? I didn’t want you to think I made the whole thing up.”
“I didn’t think that,” she assures him quietly. “I believe you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You pinky swore.”
Cy huffs a laugh, looking at the twinkling lights in the tree above them and the flagstones beneath their feet and the rows of hedges beside them—but not at her. “That’s all it takes, huh?”
“Hey,” she says, and that’s enough to finally get him to look up. “You know what a pinky swear means to me.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, almost a whisper.
“It’s basically legally binding in the Diaz family,” she says with a grin.
“I thought it was a Buckley thing,” Cy says, and Cassie—she can’t believe he remembers that.
“Same diff, really,” she somehow manages.
Her heart feels like it’s glowing—she rubs a hand over her chest to make sure the light isn’t spilling out. Cy must mistake her movement for a chill, because then he’s shrugging his suit jacket off and sliding it onto her shoulders, tugging the lapels closed.
Cassie curls her fingers around the expensive fabric—if her heart was glowing before, surely it’s been reduced to liquid now, melted down completely.
“Thank you,” she says, because that’s probably what she’s supposed to say when a boy she likes gives her his jacket, right?
“No problem. You, uh,” he clears his throat. “You look really nice tonight.”
Cassie grins sarcastically, spinning in a slow circle and striking a pose. “Your jacket really completes the look.”
“I knew it was missing something,” Cy plays along.
“You do too,” she says. “Look nice, I mean. You’re all dressed up.”
“I thought—I don’t know,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “I figured if you let me stay, I might as well look the part.”
“What part?” she dares to ask.
“Like your–” he cuts himself off. “Nah, never mind.”
When the party started, all Cassie wanted was to be at home. She was so bored and annoyed at having to get dolled up just to hang around her family—she does that every other night anyways. But as it always does during outings like this, her icy exterior thawed, and now she can’t imagine the night ever ending. She feels so much love it might as well be coursing through her veins. She feels on top of the world with it. She feels like nothing can bring her down.
That’s probably why she takes a tentative step forward and says, “Like my date?”
Cy’s gaze snaps to hers, eyes wide. She’s pretty sure it’s more of a pleasantly surprised look and less of a what the fuck are you talking about? look though, so that’s good. He says, “I was going to say boyfriend. But yeah.”
And then the garden is silent—two teenagers, a foot apart, smiling at each other like they don’t know how to stop.
“Is that something you want?” she asks.
“Is that something you want?” he shoots back.
“I asked you first.”
Cy watches her for a long, tortuous moment, then seems to come to the conclusion of fuck it, exhaling heavily. “Yeah. I do. But if you want to stay friends, then that’s–”
Cassie’s heard enough. She closes the gap between them in one stride, cradles Cy’s jaw in her palms, and kisses him. It’s not her first kiss, but it feels like the first one that matters, Cy’s words stuttering to a halt as he leans into it, their lips sliding together.
The kiss doesn’t last long, mostly because Cassie is extremely aware that the only thing separating this garden from everyone she calls family is a mere wall.
“I really like you,” Cassie tells him.
“But?” Cy asks.
She shakes her head. “No but. Just that.” Then she kisses him again, short and sweet.
But when she pulls away again, Cy is frowning. “You’re not just saying that because of the whole Mateo thing, right?”
“No,” she hastens to say, wanting to wipe the hurt clean from his eyes. “No, of course not. It’s because you make me laugh. And because you always bring Nessa that fancy bubble gum she’s addicted to whenever you come over. It’s because you actually enjoy sitting through family dinners with us. It’s because you drove all the way here to pinch me just so I wouldn’t think you were lying.”
Cy smiles, cheeks bunching. “That was romantic.”
“Shut up,” she mutters, ears burning.
“No, I liked it,” he assures her.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Cassie can’t stop grinning even if she tried. She asks, “You want to stay?”
“And be your date?” Cy asks.
“I was thinking my boyfriend,” she says, then holds her breath.
The lights are gleaming in Cy’s irises when he tells her, “I’d really like that.”
“Good,” she breathes, then takes his hand, already giddy with it. “Come on.”
The crowd on the dance floor hasn’t dissipated in the slightest by the time they return, her absence hopefully unnoticed. Aunt Ava spots Cy trailing behind her instantly, giving her an exaggerated sleazy wink and an extremely conspicuous thumbs up. Cassie rolls her eyes so hard it hurts, pushing Cy onto the dance floor just as a familiar guitar twang filters through the speakers, followed by Lil Nas X’s deep rasp.
Yeah, I’m gonna take my horse to the old town road…
Cassie immediately turns to find Cy already watching her, eyes bright. “Yo!” he shouts.
She throws her head back, laughing loudly. “I love this song!” It might’ve come out the same year she was born, but it’s still a banger—especially when it’s the remix version, a quick drumbeat beckoning her to the dance floor.
Cy takes her hand and she’s happy to be led into the fray, to spend the rest of the night bumping her shoulder into Aunt Hen’s, pointedly avoiding how closely her dads are dancing, and ignoring all the curious looks being sent their way. She lets Cy spin her around, quietly thrilled every single time he pulls her back into his arms, delighting in the giggle he lets out when she spins him.
Despite her hopes, Cassie knows that tonight will ultimately end. The tables will be folded up, the speakers will fall silent, and the dance floor will eventually empty. Maybe it’s okay that she wasn’t able to sit at the adult table after all. She doesn’t need to be an adult quite yet, not if it gives her more time to enjoy nights like these.
But for now, she joins in with the cheers as another song starts blasting, enjoying this moment for as long as it will last, surrounded by everyone she loves most in the world.
She’s right where she wants to be.