Page 68 of Wedding or Not

What must he have thought about me?

I’m climbing back into bed when he stirs and mumbles something.

“Sorry,” I say softly.

“S’okay.” He makes a few mouth noises and opens his eyes. “Oh. Hi.”

“Hi.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m so sorry I fell asleep. I really did want to…”

“I know. It was probably for the best. We can return to the conversation tomorrow if we want. For now, just go back to sleep.”

Washed with a flood of relief that I didn’t accidentally hurt, disappoint, or annoy him, I’m smiling as I pull the covers over me. “Okay. Thank you for being so great.”

“I’m always great.”

He’s teasing, but he’s also right. “I know you are. You’re a pretty good husband to have.”

We sleep in the next morning and then call down for breakfast in bed.

They give us the full romantic treatment, so I snap a few photos to make Natalie happy before we dig in.

Wes doesn’t appear in any sort of huff about last night. In fact, he’s in a really good mood, laughing and telling funny stories and asking me about random details from my past as if he’s genuinely interested in them.

We play pickleball again in the late morning and then walk along the bay and eat a late lunch at a nearby bistro. We browse some adorable shops, and we buy some small gifts for Jake, Grace, and each of my sisters.

As we’re standing to check out, I’m having a private gush over our choices and how much they’ll be loved, and I catch Wes watching me.

“What?”

He shakes his head and glances away. “Nothing. I just like to see how close you are to your sisters.”

“That’s normal, isn’t it?”

“Is it? I haven’t seen that to be the case in all families.”

“I guess that’s true.” I pause, thinking about Wes and how he notices things. “Do you ever wish you had siblings?”

“Sure. I bet every only child wishes that occasionally.” He reaches over to play idly with my hair in that particular way he has. “But I’ve got a great family. It doesn’t matter that it was small.”

“No. It doesn’t matter.”

“The only thing I wish was different is that I didn’t lose Mom so soon.”

I rub his back in the only way I have to comfort him.

“But you know all about that,” he says in a different tone.

“I do.”

“And it’s always felt, in a way, that your sisters are mine. So it’s not like I’ve missed out on everything family gives us.”

“No. You haven’t.” I check his face and then check it again, but I can find no clue about whether his wording was intentional.

My sisters are his sisters, he said.