My mouth tugs into a grin. I think he might be right.
7
“I’m beginning to wonder if you’ve made Michael up,” I say, watching as Alex takes the casserole dish out of the oven and sets it on the counter with a flourish.
She laughs. “I swear, he’s real. He had meetings yesterday and today, but he’ll be here tonight, I promise.”
I smile, leaning against the fridge. I notice a list of wedding to-dos stuck under a magnet, and pull it off to inspect more closely. Alex still has to organize a seating plan, create place cards, get her ring sized, make wedding favors, and more. It’s a lot to get done in just over two weeks, especially if she has to write, too.
“So as your maid of honor,” I say, holding up the list, “is there anything I can do to help with the wedding?”
“Well, you’ve already got Mum off my back.”
I called Mum after finalizing my flight and told her I was coming over to meet Michael and check up on Alex. I’m pleased that seems to have calmed her down—for now, at least.
“But there are probably some other things you could help with,” Alex adds. “I’ve been feeling a bit overwhelmed with everything that still needs to get done.”
“I’m happy to help. Tell me which tasks to do, and I’ll take care of them.” I stick the list back to the fridge and she smiles, clearly relieved.
“Thanks. We have a dress fitting tomorrow, then I’ll see what you can do after that.” She hands me some plates and I carry them over to the table, setting them out. I’m momentarily transported back to our dinner table as kids, laying the plates out while Mum fussed in the kitchen. Except in that version, Alex wasn’t at the stove. In fact…
“When did you start cooking?”
“What? I’ve always been able to cook.”
I snort. “I don’t think you can call microwaving a frozen pizza ‘cooking’. This is a proper meal. You used a recipe and everything.”
She chuckles. “Yeah, I figured I should step my game up when I moved in here. Michael’s a good cook, but he can’t cook all the time. And if I’m cooking it’s for both him and Henry.” Her smile wobbles and her gaze slides from mine. “And now that I’m marrying Michael, I’ll officially be the stepmother of an eleven year old boy.”
“Are you okay with that?” I don’t know if I could do it; sometimes I still feel like an eleven year old myself. Should be getting my Hogwarts letter any day now.
Alex fixes her smile back in place. “Yes. I love Michael so much. He’s an amazing guy—I actually can’t believe I’ve found someone like him. And Henry is such a sweet kid. He’s been so welcoming and lovely and I can honestly say I love him too.”
This makes me smile, because I know she means every word. She’s always been the mushy kind. But I can also sense that there’s something she’s worried about, so I just keep setting the table quietly, waiting in case she wants to say more.
She gives a weighted sigh. “It’s just, sometimes I worry—”
There’s a sound at the door and she stops, turning to me with a grin. My stomach quivers and I smooth my new dress down. I’m kind of nervous to meet this guy. He will be my brother-in-law, after all. I hope he’s good enough for my sister.
The door closes and a tall man with broad shoulders, dark hair, and a short beard enters the kitchen. He pulls Alex close, kissing her on the lips. It’s such a sweet and intimate gesture that I immediately feel weird and busy myself with the table-setting again, pretending I didn’t notice him come in. Which is absurd, because of course I did. He’s very tall, and I can see why Alex fell for him—he’s gorgeous.
Whatisit with these American men? Why don’t we have them like this at home?
He turns to me, extending a hand to introduce himself, and I feel a flicker of recognition. There’s something about him that’s familiar, somehow.
“You must be Harriet. I’m Michael,” he says in a deep accent, his mouth curving into a smile. “It’s so nice to meet you, finally.”
I smile back, trying to hide my confusion. I know I’ve never met him before, and I’ve only seen a handful of photos, but for some reason it feels like Iknowhim already. I shake my head to clear the odd sensation. “Yes, you too! Thanks for letting me stay with you.”
“Of course.” He reaches a long, muscular arm up to grab a bottle of red wine from a shelf and opens it. “Sorry I haven’t been around the past couple days. I had to prepare a pitch for my new book and I’ve been super busy, especially with the wedding coming up.” He pours a few glasses and hands one to me.
Alex places a dish of green beans on the table and takes a glass from Michael’s outstretched hand. She leans her head against him as he slips an arm around her. There’s a bit of an age-difference between them—I think about eleven years—but I have to admit: they areadorable.
“How was your flight over?” Michael asks, taking a sip of wine.
Alex’s eyes light with glee. “I think it wasverygood, wasn’t it, Harriet?”
Heat rises to my cheeks and I shoot her a look of horror.
