Page 42 of It's a Widow Thing

He tucked both hands behind his head. “Believe me, I watched my brothers go through that particular trial-by-fire. You’re the only one who made me feel like it was worth the inquisition.”

“I thought you said I wouldn’t be under scrutiny.”

“You won’t. I, however, will be questioned at every turn. Lovingly, of course. My mom already adores you. I can tell.”

“You’re just sweet-talking me. She hardly knows me.”

“I’m not. It’s the truth.” Seriousness washed over his face. “She’s picking up on the way I feel about you.”

She placed her hand on his chest—his heart was pounding, which came as no real shock. Hers was doing the same. She wanted to share. She wanted to tell him that despite her best efforts to take things slow, she was a little more head-over-heels for him every day. “I…”

A soft knock came at the door. “Michael? Sabrina? It’s Brian. I was thinking of opening a bottle of wine to have with lunch. You guys should join us.”

Michael asked if Sabrina was on board by cocking an eyebrow. “Sure thing,” he answered to his brother. “We’ll be down in five.”

She considered asking what he’d meant by saying his mom was picking up on his feelings for her. Did she really want to launch into serious emotions right before lunch? No. She needed to pace herself. They departed their room and descended the grand oak staircase leading to the foyer. Voices and laughter echoed through the vestibule as they made their way to the back of the house and the great room—a yawning space that on one end held a white u-shaped sectional and a pair of leather club chairs aimed at an enormous flat screen mounted above the fireplace. At the opposite end was the gourmet kitchen, all in white, with shaker cabinetry, and a large center island topped with gray-veined marble. The great room was built and designed for one thing—family time. Before this moment, Sabrina had spent much of her life wondering if scenes like these were only the stuff of romantic comedies and home decor magazines. Apparently, they were real.

“Aha,” Lydia exclaimed from the kitchen, which was filled with wonderful aromas. “The happy couple. I was wondering if we needed to leave you two alone for a little while.” She stirred a steaming pot at the stove, with a blue and white checkered tea towel flung over her shoulder.

Michael squeezed Sabrina’s hand. “Sorry, Mom. I thought we should wait until later.”

Sabrina gave him the evil eye. “Why would you say that?” she muttered.

“Trust me, there are no secrets in this house.”

“Hey, Sabrina. Nice to see you again.” Brian bounded over and thrust a wine glass into her hand. He smiled at her warmly. “This will make all of the Wright family closeness seem far less overwhelming.”

“Thank you.” Sabrina took a long sip.

“My wife is stealing the few minutes of quiet she can get while our dad is running around with Zoe, but she’ll be down in a few,” Brian said. “She’s really looking forward to meeting you.”

Just then one of the back French doors opened, and Michael’s father walked in, followed by Zoe.

“Uncle Michael! You’re here!” She bounded across the room and practically launched herself into his arms, her braids bouncing with every step.

“Hey, kiddo.” He picked her up and twirled her around before setting her back down on the ground. “Do you want to meet Sabrina?”

“Of course I do,” she answered.

“You must be Michael’s girlfriend.” The older man offered his hand. He was a bigger, burlier version of Michael and his brothers, with a much deeper voice, but the same perfectly-shaped head. “I’m William, Michael’s father. This is my granddaughter, Zoe.”

“Hi, Sabrina,” Zoe said. She also shook Sabrina’s hand, her warm brown eyes, a near match for Michael’s, lighting up. “How much do you like my uncle? A whole lot or a little?”

Sabrina had expected probing questions from Lydia, but not from the youngest member of the family. “I like him a whole lot.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

Everyone laughed, except for Michael, who simply shook his head.

“William, you and Zoe need to get washed up. Lunch is ready.” Lydia clanged the spoon against the cobalt-blue enamel pot.

“Come on.” William crouched down and Zoe hopped on her grandfather’s back. “The general has issued her orders.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Zoe said with a salute as she turned on her heel. “Oh, hi Mommy.”

“Hey, sweetheart.” Alyshia watched her daughter whiz past while getting a ride from her grandfather. “You must be Sabrina.” Alyshia was drop-dead gorgeous, with high cheekbones, glowing tawny skin and freckles.

“And you must be Alyshia,” Sabrina said.