And I can see her face again in my mind’s eye. Someone at a friend’s wedding last winter.
And she was single.
Immediately, my brain starts clicking in that way my husband hates. I can’t help it.
I cock my head, picturing her here now, sitting next to Dax.
Millie.
Millie and Dax. Dax and Millie.
They’d make a good couple.
Yep. I’m so doing this.
“Have you been to Tybee?” Dax asks me.
“Nope,” I answer. “Never. But I know the best place to get a good pie on the island.”
“Pie?”
“Yeah. The Breeze-In Diner,” I say off-handedly and immediately sense Mason’s eyes on me. I see the recognition in them. He knows what I’m doing. And there’s no mistaking his disapproval.
I lift my chin, resolute as my gaze meets my husband’s.
Don’t do it, his eyes seem to warn me.
But why wouldn’t I?
And how couldn’t I? It’s the right thing to do.
“I love pie,” Dax says as my husband sends me a withering look. “I’ll definitely check it out.”
“Good,” I tell him innocently, enjoying the idea of it.
I know it strikes people as odd, the way I love to set singles up.
But I’m in love with love, as my husband likes to say.
And it will be summer when Dax is settling in at his new post. Such a wonderful time of year to make new friends. To experience new places.
To fall in love.
My smile spreads.
“Be sure to ask for Millie when you get there,” I add, my tone shooting for off-the-cuff even as I sense my husband suppressing an eye roll in my direction.
“Millie?” Dax asks.
“Yeah. It’s her pie crust recipe. The flakiest, most buttery crust you’ll ever eat.” Okay, maybe I’m laying it on a little thick, seeing as I’ve never even tried her pie.
Millie and I talked about baking for a while at her brother’s wedding, and she seemed to appreciate the old school recipes as much as I do.
Our grandparents—their entire generation—they rocked the kitchen.
“And she’ll hook you up with extra whipped cream if you say that we sent you,” I add, pulling out all stops.
“Freya,” Mason’s tone is warning. “He hasn’t even moved yet. Don’t give him more things to do.”