I love you. Harry mouths to me, his words silent but drowning out the conversation happening around us.
I love you too.
“Lisa, darling,” Mum says, dabbing a napkin around her mouth. “That was absolutely beautiful.”
“Yeah, Lis,” Rhiannon says, leaning back in her chair and holding onto her slightly more rounded belly. “That was amazing.”
I smile proudly. I could try for humble but screw it, I worked hard, and I make a mean lasagne.
“To my wonderful wife!” Harry raises his glass, and the table joins him, toasting to my successful first dinner of the holidays.
A part of me that I absolutely hate wonders why Harry chose wonderful and not beautiful as he has done so many times before. Something must show on my face as Harry’s brows drop slightly and he tilts his head as though to ask me what’s wrong, so I do the only thing I can and plaster on a bright smile.
“Right,” Jake declares, slapping his thighs decisively. “Men unite! Let’s do the washing up.” He starts to stand and the men at the table follow suit, but I hold my hands out.
“No, no, no. It’s all good, the ladies are helping me clear up tonight.”
“What? No!” Jake says it like I suggested running out into the snowy garden naked. “You cooked; we are more than capable of tidying.”
“No,” I say sternly, and he turns his lips down as though scared, making both my boys giggle. “Tonight is the easiest night to clean up so the ladies are washing up and then for the rest of the holiday, you boys are keeping my kitchen neat and tidy.” I tap the table and look at the women, jerking my head toward the kitchen and they all start clearing plates away.
“I’m on drinks duty,” Harry announces. “Everyone give me your orders. Nels-Bells, can I borrow you for a moment?”
Nel glances at me quickly before turning to her brother. “Of course.”
The two of them head to the garage and I turn to see Jake watching me with a disappointed face and hands on his hips. “You shouldn’t be tidying up after you cooked for us, Lis.”
I smile warmly at the true gentleman my husband’s best friend is. “It’s just an excuse for us ladies to have a natter while you boys are out the room.”
He sighs. “I must be able to do something?”
On cue, the baby monitor lights up and Mary’s cries sound from the device and up the stairs. “Could you?”
He’s already halfway up the stairs, any excuse to snuggle with the baby. “I’m on it!”
I laugh as I put the lasagne dish in the sink to soak. There really isn’t anything more to do than load the dishwasher and even though I’m catering this whole thing, I would feel bad if I didn’t tidy up at least one night.
Mum comes over with a pile of plates and sets them down with a sigh. “I really put my foot in it, didn’t I?”
Looking over at her, I see the worry in her eyes and her teeth working over her bottom lip. I sigh and put my arm around her narrow shoulders. “Don’t worry about it, Mum. Nel loves you, I’m sure she knows you weren’t trying to be insensitive, and she won’t hold it against you.”
“Poor girl,” Mum says sadly. “I never thought about how hard it would be to plan a wedding without your mum.”
I nod, feeling a burn behind my eyes as I think of the siblings in the garage and how they’ve gone through something I can’t comprehend yet. I squeeze Mum again and we silently load the dishwasher together.
The kitchen is clean and tidy in no time. Harry and Nel are still in the garage, and I need to catch her alone to ask about the special project we’ve worked on, the one for Harry.
Harry telling the story of when we first met has made me very excited to give him his Christmas present and restored something in me that’s been missing for the better part of a year. He may have given our family the PG version of events, but my mind has filled in the gaps.
I lead the way up the stairs, Abby’s hot roommate following closely behind. The house is packed so I have to duck and dodge people as I go but I’m too late to avoid two big guys who come charging down the stairs, nearly knocking me over the banister.
“Hey,” Harry growls, shoving the second one back before he hits me too. “Watch where you’re going.”
“Sorry man,” the first guy says drunkenly.
“Not me you need to apologise to.” He jerks his head at me, and the guy has the decency to look embarrassed.
“Sorry, love,” he says with a wince.
