Page 75 of The Marriage Mistake

I hardly knew Sadie at all. I couldn’t ask her to drop everything and tailor a dress for me. That was way too much to ask. Near-strangers didn’t do things like that for me. Hell, even my friends didn’t—or the people in my life who most closely resembled friends.

Sadie obviously didn’t hear my internal monologue. She just said, “Don’t be ridiculous. If you don’t buy that dress, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. Besides, I want to touch it! If you end up hating it, I’ll buy it off you. It’s gorgeous.”

My heart thumped so hard I had to press a hand to my chest. That easily, a woman I barely knew was offering to help me out. People didn’t just help me out. It felt uncomfortable, like I would owe her something.

Jack’s hand coasted down my back, and he smiled softly. “We’ll get the dress. Darby’s got her eye on a couple of paintings too.”

“Love it!” Sadie said. “See you tomorrow!”

We hung up, and I touched the embroidered fabric. I glanced at Darby, then Jack. “You really think Sadie won’t mind?”

“She made Lola’s homecoming dress. She’s really good,” Jack said.

“I’ll pay her,” I said with a decisive nod. That made me feel a little better. A little less like I was a burden to everyone around.

We made our way back downstairs, only to find that the painting of the eye was already sold. People were weird. Darby darted to the purple pig and took it off the wall. Jack grinned. “Excellent choice,” he said, and we headed to the cashier.

“One dress and this painting,” Darby announced.

The old lady at the makeshift counter squinted at the little sticker price tag on the painting’s frame, then at the bundle of fabric in my arms. “Does the dress have a price tag?”

I shook my head. “Don’t think so.”

“Should we say twenty bucks?”

My eyes widened. Twenty dollars for a vintage designer dress? That was a steal. It literally felt like I was stealing. Before I could answer, Jack pulled out his wallet. “Deal,” he said, and paid the lady for our goods. Darby held in her excitement until we got outside. As soon as we stepped over the threshold, she let out a whoop and jumped a foot in the air, still clutching her artwork.

I laughed, glancing down at the embroidery in my arms, and shook my head. “I feel like I just did something wrong,” I admitted.

“No way.” Darby shook her head. “That’s the point of these things.” She set the painting down on her shoes and caught the attention of a middle-aged woman heading for the front door. “Excuse me, would you mind taking a picture of us? It’s our first estate sale together.”

“Of course,” the other woman said with a warm smile. Darby fished her Polaroid camera out of her bag and handed it over, to the delight of the other woman. “I had one of these things when I was younger. It’s so fun.”

Darby shuffled closer to us, and Jack put his arm around my waist. His other hand rested on Darby’s shoulder, and we posed as the woman counted us down. She pressed the button on the camera, the flash went off, and then there was a click and a buzz. The camera vomited out an undeveloped print. Darby bounced over to grab the photo and the camera, thanking the woman.

“You three make a beautiful family,” she told us, then smiled and went inside on her own treasure hunt. I opened my mouth, wanting to protest that we weren’t a family, but she was gone too quickly.

Besides, wasn’t that exactly how it felt to be with Jack and Darby? Like I was part of their family?

We stopped for coffee, tea, and hot chocolate on the way home, then went home to admire our purchases. Darby made a beeline for the corkboard in the kitchen, pinning our photo up beside all the others. Front and center, where anyone who walked in would see it first. Then she said, “Dad, let’s go hang up the painting. Then Ember can try on the dress.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jack said, grinning. Jack made a detour to the garage to grab a couple of tools, and then the two of them went up to hang Darby’s new artwork.

I found myself staring at the picture on the corkboard, my throat growing tight. It had a faded, sepia quality to it, but our smiles were unmistakable. Jack held the two of us like we were the most precious things in his life as we displayed our estate sale finds. A snapshot of one of the happiest mornings of my life.

I blinked at that thought, reeling. Was it bad that one of the best days of my life involved a slow breakfast, an estate sale, and a hot drink? It was so simple—but I couldn’t deny the way I felt.

This morning had made me feel like I was part of a family. My life had purpose beyond my career. I had at least two people in my life who cared about me and wanted to spend time with me, who encouraged me to make rash purchases and didn’t hesitate when the lady at the counter gave away a designer dress for a song.

I wanted every weekend to be like this. I wanted Darby’s light and laughter. I wanted Jack’s soft touches. I wanted people to smile at us and call us a family. I wanted to belong somewhere—to belong to other people in a way that made me feel at home.

“Hey,” Jack said, padding into the kitchen. “You okay?” He set his tool bag on the kitchen table and wrapped his arms around me.

I nodded, the bridge of my nose prickling. “Yes. Just a little emotional.”

“How come?”

I shrugged, feeling silly. “I’ve never had a family. Not really. My dad resented me, and I learned to pull away from anything that felt too close to intimacy. I wasn’t close with my cousins or aunts and uncles. But with you and Darby…”