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Mom took us in and patted her chest. “You two are just adorable. Where will you be honeymooning?” She was obviously cuckoo as a Cocoa Puff. At least she had taken off her furry coat and wide-brimmed influencer hat. Her white-blond hair, cut in an angular bob, was on full display. I would always be jealous that she, and probably Charlotte, would never go gray. Unlike Dad and me.
“Mom, we aren’t actually—” I went to remind her.
“Prince Edward Island,” Patrick surprisingly answered.
“Oh,” Mom cried. “Izzy loves everything aboutAnne of Green Gables.”
It was true. When I read those books, it was the first time I ever fell in love with a fictional character. Gilbert Blythe was so real to me. I fantasized I was Anne. Anne and I were headstrong kindred spirits, sometimes misjudged.
“I know,” Patrick replied.
I tilted my head and glanced up at him, hardly believing he remembered how I had gone on and on about those books and how I’d always wanted to go to Prince Edward Island. I’d wanted to go there on my first honeymoon, but Jared wanted to go somewhere warm and sunny because, you know, it wasn’t like we lived in Florida where it was always warm and sunny. We ended up going to Mexico, which was great, but not my dream.
I somehow forgot we weren’t getting married when I said, “You remembered.”
“I remember everything.” Those were such beautiful words.
“But we aren’t ...” My brain kicked in.
Patrick silenced me with a kiss. The chaste kiss spoke so much. Mostly it said that Patrick had every intention of taking me to Prince Edward Island on our honeymoon. By the time his lips left mine, all I could do was blink, trying to think of a reason we shouldn’t book our trip.
“Yo, Dad and Stepmommy dearest, enough of the PDA. There are children present.”
Everyone laughed.
Rory was a good reminder that Patrick and I had more to think about than ourselves. We shouldn’t be rushing headlong into serious subjects, such as holy matrimony or honeymoons. I turned and settled back against Patrick, my mind and heart racing because sprinting to the aisle didn’t seem as crazy as it should. As I looked around, no one else seemed to be bothered by the idea either. Bridgette even flashed me a crooked grin as she cut out a candy cane.
As I leaned against Patrick, I dreamed of us taking a carriage ride and sipping raspberry cordials. Of course, we would have to take walks down Lover’s Lane and through the Haunted Wood, reliving my adolescence through the eyes of Anne of Green Gables. Summer would be the ideal time to go, when it wasn’t cold and snowy. I’d read July or August were the best times. Patrick and I could do a summer wedding. Listen to me planning a wedding and honeymoon when we’d never even said we love each other. At least not verbally. Wasn’t that exactly what Patrick had been trying to say in all of this? He had told his children he loved me. Was I just being silly getting hung up on things, like how many days and hours we had known each other?
While I contemplated, which I seemed to be doing a lot lately, there was a knock on the door. I stood to get it, but Dad waved me down. “You stay there.” He winked. “I’ll get it.”
He didn’t have to convince me. I stayed snuggled against Patrick, feeling right at home, right where I belonged.
It wasn’t long before George was shuffling in. The meddling old man. I supposed I couldn’t be too angry with him, seeing as it all seemed to be working out. Except for the whole Ron Swanson thing, and something unkosher with Dave. I worried everything we were doing still wasn’t going to be enough to give Charlotte the quiet wedding she wished for.
George wore a long plaid wool coat with a matching hat. He looked like a throwback from the 1970s. I loved it as much as I love him.
Mom was ever the hostess. She jumped up to take his coat. “George, it’s so lovely to see you again.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Elizabeth.” He painfully shrugged out of his coat.
I hated watching him age. I couldn’t imagine life without him in it. I tried not to think about it.
Charlotte walked out with a tray full of steaming mugs filled with hot chocolate. “You’re just in time, George.”
“I had a feeling.” He grinned his mischievous grin.
That man and his feelings. I smiled to myself.
“Please sit down.” Mom directed him to the couch where the three kiddos were sitting.
“Sit by me.” Jameson scooted over.
Slowly, George made his way to the couch, Mom hovering just in case he needed her. She was a good lady. Crazy, but good.
Charlotte passed out hot chocolate mugs to everyone. Well, except for Patrick, who decided it was best if we shared, as it left his hands free to hold me. I was totally on board with his reasoning, even if it meant sharing Charlotte’s homemade hot chocolate, otherwise known as the stuff dreams are made of.
Once George settled next to Jameson and close to Patrick and me, his knowing brown eyes lasered in on us. “You look happy, dear one.”
