“I think I do.” She nods.
“No baby talk!” Valerie yells from the couch where she’s doing research on something. “Firstcomes marriage. That means after the wedding you can start talking babies.”
Holden chuckles and looks over Valerie’s shoulder. They start talking about something relating to PTSD and I glance at Sophie as if trying to tell her that may not be the best conversation. But instead, she’s pulling Gunner up behind her so she’s sandwiched between us.
“I like this position.” She keeps her voice low in that tempting little whisper that tends to get her whatever she could possibly want. “We should put it to use soon.”
“Naughty girl.” Gunner teases. “Who said I want your cooties?”
She gasps. “I don’t have cooties!”
“Who knows? You spent all day playing dress-up. Sounds like the kind of thing that is infectious.”
“Says the guy who only has to try on suits and ties.”
“Impossible to handle. What if they are different shades of black!” Gunner gasps.
“Then the world will implode because everyone will notice. Even the flowers will judge.” She giggles. “Can you imagine?”
Gunner rolls his eyes. “Keep this up and I’m not painting your toenails tonight.”
She pouts. “But you promised!”
He shrugs. “Sarcasm isn’t nice.”
“For adults it is.” She looks to me for help. “Tell him.”
“If she wasn’t half this sassy, you wouldn’t love her as much.” I remind him.
Gunner sighs and squeezes her cheeks together so she looks like a chipmunk. “It’s true. I love how much you challenge me and that we can sass each other without feelings getting hurt.”
“I love you.” She says.
“What? That didn’t sound like sarcasm. I’m not fluent in normal English.” Gunner says.
Sophie shoves him and laughs.
I feel a smile curl up my cheeks. We walked in expecting her to be exhausted, annoyed, at her wit's end, and barely holding on. Instead, we get to see the Sophie we fell in love with. Not the one so thoroughly rattled by stress that she can barely function without losing her temper.
When I finish cooking, someone knocks and Sophie lets Massimo in. He picks her up in a crushing hug and then pats her head.
“Look at you, about to steal my cousin away.” He smiles at her.
She answers him in Italian, determined to practice. “We’ll be happy forever.”
Massimo beams and spins her around. “Such good Italian on you! Grandma will be pleased.”
“If she doesn’t get upset about the whole multiple husband thing.” There’s that frustrated edge again.
The fight I’m most worried about: how others are going to potentially be a problem at the wedding. Luckily, I’m heading to Italy before we get married to make sure it’s clear that Sophie is marrying all four of us.
If Grandma doesn’t like it, she doesn’t have to be there. It will break my heart, but it’s not just my heart in question. Sophia is just as important and she deserves to be happy, not worried about people judging.
Now if I can make myself believe that and remind myself daily that compromise will give us a happy day to start the rest of our life on, we won’t have a problem.
SOPHIE
Dinner is amazing. As it always is when Roman cooks. Valerie moans. “Okay, I get why you’re marrying the big quiet one.”