Page 90 of Married to Number 22
“Luna dear, someone is here to see you.”
I still, worry creeping along my spine—thinking thatsomeonecould be my dad, my brother, here to create chaos—but that worry only lasts a moment. Mostly because I don’t hear any yelling and because Kathy didn’t slam the door, leaving them to rot on the porch, so itcan’tbe my dad or brother.
When I turn to the hall, my heart convulses again.
God, it’s really been going through the ringer lately.
“Bri!” I exclaim, moving quickly toward her. Mostly because I’m thrilled she’s here, but also because her expression is edgy and it looks like she’s about to spin on her heel and get the fuck out.
Considering I was mentally there as well only weeks ago, I hurry over to her before she runs.
“I so glad you’re here,” I tell her, slowly looping my arm through hers—giving her time to back away, to avoid the contact—before drawing her into the kitchen. “You’ll save me from Kathy’s instructions on how to properly fold napkins.”
“Rude!” Kathy says, not missing a beat and jumping in as exactly as I knew she would. “Just because your mother-in-law wants to make a hundred tiny paper napkin swans?—”
Bri chokes, jerks in my hold.
Yup. Definitely ready to run.
Kathy smiles, but holds it together, sighing morosely and saying, “I just wanted something elegant for my daughter-in-law’s celebration. No bother.” She shrugs. “How about we fold them into flowers instead?”
Bri chokes again.
And Kathy can’t hold it together any longer.
Which means that she starts giggling.
And thenIstart giggling because?—
“Flowers?” I gasp, loosening my grip on Bri and bending over, holding my middle as I try and stop laughing.
But—
“Your face,” I tell Bri, forcing the words out between my guffaws. “Oh, my God, your face.” I give myself a moment longer to be amused then, knowing I’ve pushed it far enough, I manage to get it together and straighten, making introductions. “Bri meet Kathy, Aiden’s mom. Her chocolate chip cookies are to die for and her flower organizing skills far outweigh mine. Kathy, this is Bri. She and I share a love for all things romantasy novel related along with a strong dislike for folding napkins into flowers or teeny tiny swans.”
Bri was tense when I began talking, but my introduction has her relaxing, her eyes coming to mine for a beat before she looks at Kathy and extends her hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” she whispers.
“You too, my dear.” Kathy wraps her fingers around Bri’s. “Now, do you want me to make you a plate so you can get some of my chocolate chip cookies before the grubby hockey players get into them or do you want to help me make those paper flowers?”
“Plate please,” Bri and I say at the same time.
Our gazes connect and we grin.
Those smiles widen when Kathy gives an aggrieved sigh.
But when I glance over at her, I see that her eyes are dancing.
Because—instinctively as I knew she would—she’s gleaned exactly how much it means that Bri is here.
And—also instinctively—I know that she’s found another little duckling to tuck under her wing and never let go.
Which is perfect.
Because Kathy Black is exactly the woman that Bri needs.
I just didn’t realize until later that both of us also need a gaggle of grubby hockey players too.
Thirty-Five
