Michael stands next to Bailey, dressed in a similarly casual outfit—hoodie, grey joggers, and sneakers. He's a little shorter than me, I would guess, just north of six feet, but he's more toned than I am, his physique probably well-earned in the gym.
I've met Michael once before, last year at the Harvest Festival in town. He's two years younger than Bailey, at twenty-four, a lawyer, and I know he comes from money, though he doesn't act like it. He had struck me as a very normal, down-to-earth guy, and completely head-over-heels in love with Bailey. They make a good-looking couple. Michael isPrince Charming handsome, as Bailey always says, with olive-toned skin, dark, shiny hair, and bright green eyes that watch Bailey with pure adoration.
"Hi!" Bailey bounces on her feet, cuddled under Michael's arm. I motion them to come inside, and they follow us into the living room. "Sophie, this is my fiancé, Michael!"
"Hi, it's nice to meet you," Sophie says, shaking his hand, and he smiles at her. Not gawking at the headwrap, or lack of eyebrows and eyelashes on Sophie. This makes me feel better. I know Sophie has felt a little uncomfortable and worried that strangers will just stare at her when she doesn't have her wig, lashes, or eyebrows on.
Thankfully, we haven't encountered any of that so far. Starling Cove just seems to treat her as if nothing is different, but she's worried about people outside of town. I think it's one of the reasons she did the article as well, to get herself out there while controlling her own narrative.
"Nice to meet you, too, Sophie," Michael says, shaking her hand gently. "I've heard so many good things about you. Good to see you again, Callum."
"You too," I say, shaking his hand, as Sophie motions them to her couches. She offers them the larger couch, and we sit on the smaller loveseat. I can't help but grin when we sit, and Sophie is pressed up to my side. I wrap my arm around her to pull her even closer, and she flashes me a grin before turning back to our guests.
Our guests.
Images flash across my eyes. Sharing a space with Sophie—our home—and having friends and family over. For holidays and family dinners. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling too hard.
"So," Sophie starts, glancing back and forth between Bailey and Michael, "What's up?"
Bailey beams at Michael before asking us, "What are you guys doing next Friday?"
"Nothing... ?" Sophie says, turning to me with a confused expression on her face. I shake my head at the silent question, not having anything scheduled. "We don't have any pla—"
"You do now!" Bailey cuts her off, not unkindly. She'spractically vibrating in excitement. "We got you both an invite to thePink Gala!"
"The... what gala?" Sophie asks, looking at me for context, and I shrug.
"ThePink Gala!" Bailey explains, eyes wide and bright. "It's a charity gala for Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Michael pulled some strings and spoke with the organizers, and I sent them the article. They were so touched by your story—they want to invite you as one of their guests!"
"Oh," Sophie looks a little shocked, and I squeeze her shoulders in support. "Wow, Bailey, that's... I don't think I have anything appropriate to wear."
"That's why I'm taking you shopping!" Bailey claps her hands. "We're going to find you a dress to be thebelle of the ball."
"Uh," Sophie frowns, thinking for a moment before something passes over her expression, a bolt of confidence, a decision. She straightens a bit in her seat and smiles at Bailey, "You know what—yeah, okay. We'll go."
Bailey squeals, this one a little more muted. "We're going to have such a good time. I'll text you all the details. I just couldn't wait to let you know," Bailey's expression sobers up, and her voice drops. "Sophie, they really loved the article. Truly. They think it's going to be a hit and people are really going to connect with your story."
Sophie smiles, her eyes growing a little misty at that, and I gently kiss her temple.
"And when I eventually win thePulitzer, you'll be the first person I thank," Bailey says, hands folding in her lap and looking uncharacteristically smug.
Sophie and I laugh as Michael just shakes his head, looking at his fiancée fondly and lifting her hand to kiss. Her giant rock flitters off the low warm light in Sophie's apartment, and thelove bouncing between them is crystal clear. Bailey deserves this, deserves a man to treat her like the jewel she is.
And I just hope the woman next to me understands and can see how I adore her the way Michael adores Bailey.
Wholly. Completely. Totally.
Head over ass,as Tonya says.
We all stand to walk them to the door, and Bailey is already going on about the next steps.
"I'll set up the fitting appointment so we can find you a dress," she says, already typing something into her phone. "We can find you shoes too, and some pretty jewelry, and I'll find us a makeup artist, and—oh! I'll see if Sasha's available to do our hair—"
"Breathe, angel," Michael teases Bailey, gently nudging her, and she takes a deep breath like she really needed it. He turns to us, smiling. "We'll organize everything. All you have to do is pack a bag and show up."
Bailey hugs Sophie and then me, while Michael shakes Sophie's hand and then mine. They step toward the door when Sophie says, "Oh, wait. Where did you say the gala was going to be?"
Michael turns back, a grin spreading slowly across his face, full of pride.
