“So, what now?” Meg asked. “Are you going to stay in Bunyan?”
I’d never loved my sisters, or valued them, more than at this moment, when we were all together. When we had almost lost Beth. My heart brimmed. I wanted this, I realized. Wanted them around me, part of my life. “I might. I mean, I have this great location all lined up.”
Beth smiled. “And this great guy.”
A blush burned my cheeks. “That’s up to him.”
“I call bullshit,” Jo said.
“You’re a March,” Meg reminded me. “You want something, you go get it.”
“We believe in you,” Jo said.
“We want you to be happy,” Beth said.
Not simply successful.Happy.
I tried to picture what that would look like. My sisters around the table, just like this, and a little shop in the town where I grew up, down the street from my father’s old church and my brother-in-law’s new restaurant. All of it the same and not the same, at once fresh and familiar—Sunday dinners at the farm and birthday parties with my niece and nephews and my mother coming in from the barn. And me, here, part of it all.
And Trey.
My heart swelled. My eyes were wet with tears. I laughed. “Fine.What the hell.” I was going to do it, I thought in wonder. I was going to go for it. I raised my wineglass. “To Bunyan!”
“To Baggage,” Meg said.
Jo smiled. “To sisters.”
Beth met my eyes. “To a fresh start,” she said softly.
I didn’t want to wait another minute.
Two hours later, after dropping off Beth at the farmhouse, I stood on the front porch of the Laurence house, my heart knocking against my ribs.
Trey opened the door, his unbuttoned shirt over a pair of jeans, as if he’d thrown it on to answer the door. His chest... That was some chest. All that beautiful golden skin, that dusting of dark hair...
“Hi. Everything all right?”
I jerked my gaze to his face. Right. It was almost ten o’clock. The way our families’ luck was running, he must be expecting another trip to the emergency room.
I nodded vigorously. “Everything’s fine. Good. Great, in fact.”
His mouth pulled up at one corner. “I guess you had a good time with your sisters.”
“I’m not drunk,” I blurted. Not even tipsy. But I was buoyant with my decision, eager to share my love, my life, my family with him. “Is your grandfather...?”
“In bed. Come in.” He drew me across the threshold, and then we were kissing, hard, sweet, wonderful kisses, my hands inside his shirt, his fingers in my hair.
“Trey.” I drew back, giddy with lust and excitement. “I have to tell you...”
He tugged me toward the library. “In here.”
“Miss Dee...?”
“WatchingThe Great British Baking Showin her room.”
So we were alone. More or less. The rush of heat swept me to my toes. I wrapped my arms around his neck. “I have something to tell you,” I said between kisses.
His mouth, his hot, beautiful mouth, trailed down my throat. “You’re not wearing underwear?”
