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“It is.” I’d leave off for another day we’d left in disgrace, the bank practically tossing our things into the street when my father lost the townhouse.

“You do plan to stay in New York, right?” Gloria suddenly looked suspicious.

“Yes, of course.”

“Felicia wants a brownstone on the Upper West Side. For starting a family,” Michael said, sitting down next to me, his hand resting on my knee.

That mythical brownstone. Why did it feel like it was going to turn around and bite me in the ass? “That’s not set in stone,” I said, feeling the need to retreat from the potentially four-million-dollar decision.

“I’d love it if you were uptown. God, I hate going downtown. The traffic is a nightmare.”

“Because it’s all about you, Gloria,” Bud said, looking amused.

“Oh, zip it, Bud. You know what I mean. I’m thrilled at the prospect of getting to know Felicia and planning a wedding.”

A wedding. I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. “We’re hoping to have an engagement party before Christmas.”

“How exciting! You’ll have to get on top of that though. That’s weeks, not months. Do you want the name of my event planner?”

“I’d love that,” I said, truthfully. The thought of planning an engagement party with so little time made me break out in a cold sweat. Especially because I was also supposed to be moving into Michael’s flat. “And I’d love it if you were able to help me.”

The enormity of what we were attempting hit me then and I felt my cheeks grow hot. I glanced at Michael, mildly panicked.

He read my expression correctly. He gave me a smile and reached out and took my hand, squeezing reassuringly.

“I would absolutely love that. Do you have a wedding date set?”

“No,” Michael said. “We just got engaged on Thursday.”

“Are you expecting?” Gloria asked me, her gaze dipping to my flat stomach.

I certainly hoped not. The very idea of it gave me heart palpitations. “No.”

“Not yet,” Michael said.

I squeezed his hand. Hard.

Sean reappeared with several glasses and a bottle. “This is all I can find. You don’t want to open this, do you?” He held it up.

It was a very expensive vintage but it looked dusty, like he’d pulled it out of the back of the wine rack.

“No, not that.” Gloria stood. “Good grief, Sean. That isn’t even chilled. There has to be some wine in the fridge.”

This was harder than I had expected. I felt like a total fraud. Like the floor might open up and drag me to hell. Gloria was genuinely happy. It had nothing whatsoever to do with me. She just clearly wanted her son married off, but still, I felt like rubbish.

“I’d rather have a bourbon,” Bud said. “Anyone else want one?”

I shook my head. “No, thank you.”

Gloria came back in, Sean trailing behind her with four glasses.

“I found the bottle of wine we bought in Italy on our honeymoon. Let’s open this.”

“I thought you were saving that for your fiftieth anniversary,” Michael said.

Fabulous. His mother wanted to pop the cork on a bottle she’d been saving for half a century to celebrate the success of her own actual, legitimate marriage? Nope. Not feeling guilty at all.

“Why wait?” Gloria beamed at us. “Is that okay with you, Bud?”

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