“Oh, I think about the future all the time,” I said, forcing a laugh that came out more like a squeak. “Just not…wedding registries and color palettes.”
Nana appeared dreamy. “You’d look lovely in cream.”
Nonna nodded, pretending to ponder. “Or something classic. Lace suits you.”
My brain scrambled. “We haven’t even talked about that. We’re happy.”
“Of course you are,” Nonna said smoothly. “But happiness is even better with commitment.”
Nana smiled, eyes gleaming. “I could call Father Liam. He owes me a favor.”
“Please don’t.” I stepped back, clutching the muffin like it might protect me. “You two planned this.”
Nana widened her eyes innocently. “Planned what?”
“You know what,” I coughed out. “This. The tag-team ambush.”
Nonna stirred her coffee. “We only worry because we love you.”
That made it worse.
“I’m going to…check on Tessa.” I retreated before either of them could mention children or china patterns.
At the counter, Tessa waited. “That bad?”
“They ran me off with wedding questions,” I muttered, tearing into my muffin. “They asked about dates, dresses, and priests.”
She winced. “Oof. You got the big guns.”
I glanced back at the booth. Both grandmothers were watching me, still smiling—sweet, calm, and absolutely victorious. Fond too, which somehow made it worse.
“Yeah,” I said softly. “They knew exactly what they were doing.”
The air around our grandmothers had shifted, becoming heavier now, holding the kind of weight that made me uneasy.
Nonna Albertini reached into her purse and pulled out a thick cream-colored envelope. The stationery looked expensive and was stiff and embossed. She set it down between them without a sound.
Nana O’Shea watched her for a long moment, then reached into her own elegant green handbag. Out came another envelope, gold-trimmed, thick paper. She placed it in front of Nonna.
They traded envelopes.
Neither smiled. They unfolded the notes at the same time, and I felt something inside me tighten. Their faces changed almost immediately. Nana’s mouth flattened, her brows drawing together as though she’d swallowed something sour. Nonna’s chin lifted slightly, eyes flashing before she forced her expression back to neutral.
Tessa whispered, “That’s not good.”
“Definitely not good,” I murmured, my pulse picking up. “We need to know what’s on those cards.”
“I vote no,” Tessa said under her breath.
The smell of coffee hung thick in the air while rain tapped softly against the windows. The sound filled the quiet like a heartbeat. The grandmothers refolded the cards and handed them back to each other to slip into their purses. So they just wanted to read each other’s notes?
My curiosity burned hot enough to drown out common sense. “Come on.” I slid off the stool.
Tessa groaned. “Do we have to?”
“Yes. We absolutely do.”
We made our way across the restaurant and around tables to reach the booth. Both grandmothers looked up as we approached, composed again. Their coffee sat untouched.
