Page 45 of Marry Me

“Can you come this weekend?” her dad asked eagerly. “You can watch the game with me. I’ll even make my famous popcorn with Parmesan.”

“Sadly, no. I’m booked solid, but what about next weekend? That’s when I have time.”

“You just sold me,” he said. “Just like that. I was gonna golf with Don, but I’ve just canceled it. I’ll make a banana bread, too.” She loved her dad’s baking. He was gifted.

“And I’ll eat it,” her mom chimed in. “You’re welcome here any day, anytime. You know that. I’ll tell the dog. He’ll be thrilled enough to get off the couch. Well, we can hope, at least.”

“Don’t bother Lefty,” her dad fussed. “He’s only just started his fourth nap and needs his beauty sleep.”

“That’s true. I won’t be telling Lefty just yet, Megan. It will have to wait until he’s lucid because your father feels so strongly about his sleep quality.”

“Fair enough. I wouldn’t want to overexcite a schnauzer with a couch addiction.” Megan laughed because the image on her screen was now the ceiling. She let it go. “So, I’ll firm up my plans and get back to you. Looking forward to some seaside air.”

“We got plenty,” her dad said. “Love you.”

“Not as much as me,” her mom countered sweetly. “I’m the winner.”

Her father’s left eye appeared on screen. “She always wins.”

“Love you both, too.”

She clicked off the call and slid out of her car, which sat in the driveway of a modest and sweet looking home. Allison’s. Tan bricks, dark brown roof, and a matching door. Homey, but not flashy. Very much like Allison herself. As she made her way up the walk, with flowers in hand, she felt the familiar flutters that hit anytime she saw or thought about the woman who had stormed into her life and tossed everything in the air. They’d talked on the phone throughout the week, but Megan’s work schedule had made get-togethers at a reasonable hour hard, what with Ally’s early bird schedule for school and thetwenty-five-minute drive between their homes. But they’d made a plan for a drink at Allison’s house so Megan could see her place and glimpse a bit more of her life. She’d been looking forward to their meetup all day like a second grader about to go on a field trip to the zoo.

Ally swung the door open before she had a chance to knock. She wore soft-looking jeans, a yellow knit top, and brown booties. The best part was the smile. It lifted Megan and energized her in a manner she couldn’t quite believe. “Welcome to my humble abode,” Ally said with one outstretched hand. “Don’t let the drywall and outdated carpeting impress you too much. The eighteen-year-old cabinetry might make you swoon. That tends to happen.”

“And what a welcome that is. Hi.”

“Hi,” Allison said. “Are those for me? Gifts were certainly not required but always celebrated.”

“On the first day I meet your house? Like I would show up without an offering. Big day.”

“Well, now the pressure is on. Except it’s not. These are gorgeous.” She smelled the bouquet. “My house is just a house, but it’s mine. Get in here and see it. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” Megan said. She heard the wistful quality in her voice, one she didn’t fully recognize. She was such a softie lately, and that had her a little nervous. This was new territory and had her out of her comfort zone.

“That’s why you should get in here. So I can gape at you without giving the neighbors a show.”

Megan laughed, and as Allison opened the door wider, she slipped inside. It smelled like baking apples, her favorite. The lit candle on the entryway table identified itself as the sweet source. As they moved down the hall into the living space, Megan spotted two more. “I’m a big candle lighter,” Allison explained. “They feel like friends.”

Megan nodded. “I’ve never thought of them that way.” But Allison made her see the world differently, and now she’d see candles as infinitely friendlier, too, which sounded nice. “Have they met the fuzzy gloves?”

“Most definitely. They have long chats.”

The living room was small, but cozy. Matching blue sofas formed the shape of an L and a folded white blanket sat on the back of each one.A few pieces of well-chosen art hung on the wall, reminding Megan of Ally’s good eye for artists. “You have a Richter of your own.”

“I don’t at all. I have a Richterprintmass-produced for chain stores that sell bath mats. Some of us aren’t as fancy.”

“Prints count.”

Allison beamed. “Good. No one told me.”

The kitchen was adjacent but in its own separate room, and Megan couldn’t help but imagine the space would feel much bigger if the architect had opened up the floorplan, but the house had to be nearly forty years old and seemed perfect for Allison. The kitchen was just as homey as the rest of the place. All kinds of cooking utensils clung to spindles, and a giant mixer sat on the corner of the counter. “Chocolate cake is my forte,” Ally said. “I’ll make you some if you’re good.”

“Don’t go making promises you don’t intend to keep. You’ve already turned me on to Froman’s, so the bar is set high.”

“Have I let you down before?” Ally asked in challenge.

“God, no.” It was the damn truth. “And I keep waiting for you to.”

---