“You haven’t stopped smiling for days,” Melody says. “You’ve even been humming. You never hum. And Lark is so blissed out she’s practically floating through the kitchen. It’s disgusting.” Melody flops back down on her stool and grumpily resumes folding homemade ravioli for the baked pasta dish the bride selected as her vegetarian option.
So much smarter than feeding the poor vegetarians a salad and thinking that will be enough to keep them going through the rest of the reception.
Vegetarians need protein, too.
“You’re only twenty-two, you’ll meet someone special soon,” Lark says, laughing as she slides a pan of chicken breasts into the oven. “Cheer up. Green isn’t your color, Mels.”
“I’m not jealous,” Melody protests. “Both of you are so in love it’s just a little…sickening to be around for more than ten or fifteen minutes at a stretch, that’s all.”
I set my icing tube down by the cake and circle around the table to give Melody’s shoulders a squeeze. “Hey, I know how you feel. I was right where you are just a few weeks ago. I know it can be hard to be around lovesick people when you’re feeling lonely. I promise I’ll try to be less sickening.”
Melody sighs. “No. Don’t. Be grossly happy. You deserve it.” She squeezes my hand. “I guess the meeting with your lawyer went well? Sorry I forgot to ask first thing.”
“No worries,” I say. “And yeah, it did go well. She’s got a lot of experience and thinks our case is solid. We may still end up going to court if Liam won’t settle after the hearing, but Nash and I are cautiously optimistic. What about you?” I ask, not wanting to dwell on things I can’t control. Like my ex and his unpredictable behavior. “Why so glum? I thought you had a hot date last night.”
Melody heaves another tragic sigh. “Yeah, right. Hot as day old oatmeal. And about as much fun to spend time with.”
“I told you to stop letting Nana set you up with boys from church.” I drag a stool next to Melody’s and pitch in with the ravioli, folding the pasta around the cheese filling before crimping the edges. “Boys from church are evil.”
“Boys from church are not evil,” Lark protests as she drifts from one end of the kitchen to the next, blissfully attending to the items on her list.
Melody’s right, Lark is floating these days. I’m so happy to see her so happy. After years of dating her fair share of day-old oatmeal guys, she deserves every second of her happily-ever-after.
“No, they are evil,” Melody says. “At least this one was. He made me split the check down the middle, even though I only had an entrée, and he had an entrée, an appetizer, a salad, and three glasses of wine. Then he tried to sneak a hand up my dress before we’d even kissed.” She shudders. “So gross and the opposite of romantic.”
“You should let me set you up with the new nurse at Mason’s practice,” Lark says. “He’s only a year older than you and totally adorable.”
“But what if it doesn’t work out?” Melody nibbles her lip. “Wouldn’t that be weird for him at work?”
Lark pauses with a dollop of sour cream halfway to the bowl in front of her, cocking her head thoughtfully to one side. “Well…maybe. And he has red hair, and you have that thing about redheads.”
“What?!” I twist to shoot an outraged look Melody’s way. “And what exactly do you have against redheads, may I ask?”
Melody’s hands lift into the air in surrender. “Not you! Boy redheads.”
“What’s wrong with boy redheads?”
“I just don’t think they’re attractive in that way,” she says with a shrug.
“What if my next child is a boy with red hair?” I demand, not about to let her off the hook that easily. “Are you saying he deserves to be shunned by women because of a little ginger in his bloodline?”
Melody’s jaw drops, while Lark stops stirring pea salad and turns wide eyes my way.
“What?” I ask, not understanding the strained silence. “I was just teasing. Mostly…”
“No, you weren’t,” Melody says, a smile spreading slowly across her face. “You’re already thinking about more babies! With Nash! Oh my gosh, you’ll have the cutest babies!”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop grinning and a warm, gooey, blissed-out feeling practically oozes from my pores.
The past seven days have been the best week of my entire life, bar none, including the time I spent in Paris. Nash and I are falling so hard and fast it would be terrifying if it didn’t feel so wonderfully, perfectly right. He’s the lover of my sexiest dreams, a friend I can be myself with, and the kind of father I’ve always wanted for Felicity.
He’s so great with her it makes me tear up sometimes. Normally, I’d hate being caught off guard by rogue emotions, but it doesn’t bother me now. It feels okay to tear up with Nash, especially when they’re tears of gratitude.