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Oh, these were horrible thoughts. Sophie shoved them aside. She would deal with that future when it came.
“I cried for ages when I found out the baby was okay,” Katrina said quietly.
“Me too,” Sophie admitted. “But Patrick cried more than I did.”
Katrina chuckled gently. “It’s strange that history had to repeat itself the way it did.”
“It felt like a test,” Sophie admitted. “I wasn’t sure I would pass it this time.”
“But it was completely different,” Katrina offered. “Because you have Patrick, now.”
Sophie’s heart thudded. Her mother understood. She saw it now. Katrina recognized the density of Patrick and Sophie’s love.
As they lay in silence, considering the weight of the past, Sophie remembered her wedding day to Jared. It had been several months after she’d lost the baby, and she’d gotten drunk in the morning and taken several pills. She was barely able to stand on her heels, and she wavered in the side room at the church as Katrina zipped her dress and gushed about how beautiful she was. Abstractly, Sophie remembered that she and Katrina had never discussed the incident at the hospital. Katrina had stormed in, blamed Sophie for her own miscarriage, and then carried on pretending that it hadn’t happened. Guilt blossomed between them like a tumor. And they’d spent the next several decades pretending that everything was all right, as Sophie’s addictions had only worsened.
“What should we do with this old place?” Sophie asked now, her voice cracking.
“It needs a paint job,” Katrina said. “That’s for sure.”
“I don’t suppose you’d like to have a hand in the re-design?” Sophie asked. “Maybe we can make it something else. Something better.”
Katrina perked up. Her eyes were bright. “You’ll call Hilary for help, of course.”
“I wouldn’t dream of leaving out our Sotheby’s connection,” Sophie joked.
“Let’s start on the nursery,” Katrina breathed.
Sophie imagined herself in the upstairs nursery, rocking her baby to sleep. She imagined Patrick down the hall, exhausted after taking his shift with the baby, his eyes bleary but his heart full. They would walk the grounds with the little babe tied to their chests, watching the waves lap up on the shore and crash against the rocks. And they would take each day at a time—sober, in love, and building a new life.
It was the most beautiful thing she could imagine.
The doorbell rang, and this time, it was really the pizza delivery guy. Nellie and Frankie sprang into the living room with boxes of pizza and piled them up on the coffee table as Ida hurried him, apologizing for them. But Katrina and Sophie waved her off.
“We have to restartSweet Home Alabama,” Sophie insisted. “For Mom.”
Nobody protested. It was already their thirtieth viewing of the film; why not a thirty-first? As Nellie restarted it, Ida piled a plate high with pizza for Sophie and handed it over, then licked her fingers of grease. Her eyes drifted from Sophie to Katrina and back again. Ida was their Switzerland, the one who stayed out of it but loved them through everything.
“Patrick and I are moving in,” Sophie said, breaking the silence.
Ida yelped and wrapped her arms around Sophie and Katrina. Nellie and Frankie looked bemused, exchangingglances before they finally fell into the Coleman-Whittaker group hug. Outside, a brash March wind tore through the trees that lined the property, but the tiniest shoots of green lined the garden, promising spring. Before long, the weather would shift, and warm temperatures would draw crowds to the beaches, their laughter echoing beneath the enormous cerulean sky.
Sophie promised herself she would soak up every inch of that sun. She was grateful for the new life she’d been given. And she needed to remind herself of it every day.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The rehearsal dinner for Sophie and Patrick’s wedding was held on the first Friday of April at Katrina and Grant’s home. Because there was an event at the church that evening, they couldn’t have an official “rehearsal” and had decided to wing it.
“We just have to walk down the aisle, right?” Sophie had joked. “I think I can manage that without practice.”
Katrina was in too good of a mood to insist. “Whatever will be, will be,” she’d joked.
Many hours before the guests were set to arrive, Katrina stood in a stained T-shirt and a pair of sweats and vacuumed the living room and dining room for the third time that week, scrambling into the kitchen at intervals to check on the feast. For some ungodly reason, she’d promised Sophie she would cook a five-course meal for all of their family members and the few friends she and Patrick had invited. It was more work than Katrina had ever set for herself on purpose. And except for the endless anxiety that shot through her heart every hour on the hour, she was having more fun than she had in ages.
Grant breezed through the kitchen as the shallots sizzled in the skillet. “Smells delicious, darling,” he said, then kissed her on the cheek.
Katrina blushed. “I don’t know how I’ll get everything done! Someone needs to pick up the cake! And the flowers? Goodness.” Her head swam, but still, she couldn’t get the smile off her face. She bubbled with excitement. Sophie was getting married!
“Let me handle it,” Grant ordered.
