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He releases me to hug her. I can’t stop my heart from swelling seeing them together.
She’s stylishly put together in a flattering evergreen sweater and fitted blue jeans that hit above the ankle. Shorter wedge shoes give her a tad of height, but she doesn’t need them. She’s beautiful—blond hair but darker than mine hitting above her shoulders, vibrant blue eyes that hold her joy of seeing him inside. I expected nothing less from Loch’s family.
She angles toward me with a smile. “You must be Tuesday. It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you.”
“Thank you.” I shake her hand, but something about her offers such comfort that I lean in, and we hug. “It’s so nice to meet you as well.”
I’m tempted to apologize for hugging her like she’s my mother, but her kind smile tells me I don’t need to. She angles toward the living room, and says, “This is my daughter Marina, Loch’s younger sister.”
“Hello,” I say. We shake hands as she moves in closer. She’s a pretty girl with the same matching hair as her brother’s, though her lighter strands add a goldenness to it. Her eyes match her mom’s as if a decision was made the boys follow their father’s genes and the daughter her mother’s.
The kitchen door opens behind us, and we step out of the way. “Hello and Happy Thanksgiving,” Lark says, entering with a pie in her hands. Harbor follows her in with several bags on his arms. Loch mentioned her dad joining us, so I assume he’s the last to enter.
After dinner, the guys make their way outside for what Loch’s youngest brother called “a pickup game,” so I settle in on the couch, mindlessly watching the football game on the big screen.
“How are you doing?” Delta comes from the kitchen to sit in a nearby chair. It’s been bustling here, so we haven’t had a chance to chat except for a moment here or there over a few appetizers on the island.
“Starting to feel stuffed from all the food. Everything is so delicious I’ve had a hard time saving room for dinner.”
She laughs. “I’d love to throw the formality of the meal out the window and just graze on appetizers all day.” She leans in as if she’s sharing a secret, and says, “My husband loves turkey. Loch loves the mashed potatoes. Harbor the green bean casserole. Noah the stuffing, and Marina adores cranberry sauce. Lark loves deviled eggs, and her dad, John, always requests my queso no matter the event. So here we are with an island of appetizers to tide them over until dinner is served.”
“I don’t know how you keep up with all that. What’s your favorite?”
“Pumpkin pie.” Her smile holds a hint of mischievousness. “How are you feeling?” The concern in her tone that reaches her eyes is noted and appreciated.
“I’m good.” Now sharing my own secret, I add, “As good as can be, considering I don’t know who I am.”
Reaching over, she takes my hand and covers it with her other. “The circumstances are awful, but I’m so glad you and Loch have each other through this.”
My first thought jumps back to Loch on the drive here and what he went through, checking on him after no one had, including me. “I wouldn’t have made it without him. I’m so grateful, but I don’t know how I’ll ever return his generosity.”
“There’s no favor to return. Even though Port had mentioned how close you two had become, I can see how much he cares about you just by how he looks at you. My son is not a frivolous man, so call me sentimental, but it means everything to me to see him this happy. Thank you.”
There’s no hiding the tears in my eyes. She’s thanking me for what I’ve done for her son when I owe everything to him for what he’s done for me. “I’m so grateful for him . . .” The words clog in my throat when my emotions get the better of me. I refuse to cry, to be this silly with his mother.
“I understand.” She gives my hand a little squeeze, then pulls her top hand back. “That’s a beautiful ring you’re wearing. I love rose gold.”
I smile, happiness overtaking the rest and leaving the tears to fall another time. I didn’t want to mess up my makeup either, so I appreciate the detour in topics.
She studies the ring wrapped around my finger, admiring it. “Thank you. I bought it when I was shopping with Lark.”
“Tiffany’s?” she asks. I nod as she continues, “They have such delicate and feminine designs. The leaves are lovely and how it wraps around your finger, but the branches don’t meet, is such a beautiful detail.”
“I heard you studied art.”
“I did. I didn’t end up using it in a professional capacity, but I still appreciate the exposure it gave me to the world of art.”
