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“Sorry,” I said, snapping out of it. “What were we saying?”
“You were insulting me, duh.”
I groaned. “I wasnotinsulting you.”
“You were saying Grandma had a point, and that’s pretty much the same thing.”
“No, it isn’t. Because we both love you and want to see you happy, and that might mean not holding every guy up against the ones that exist in some author’s imagination.”
She pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t do that.”
“You do too.”
“Well, whatever. I don’t think the books are the problem. I think the men of today just aren’t swoony enough for me. And if you tell me to lower my standards, I’m going to fight back with how messed up that concept is.”
I leaned forward, barely containing my giggles. “I’m not going to tell you to lower your standards, Lyn. But maybe just give the next guy a chance to show you more of himself before you decide he’s not good enough.”
She waved a hand, but I knew her well enough to know that her expression meant that she’d heard me and understood what I’d said.
“Okay, let’s go back in there. It looks like they’re getting ready to start serving dinner, and Mom needs help.”
I rose from the love seat and looked inside, my heart swelling up all over again as I saw Zac taking out the casserole that I’d placed in the oven before he’d arrived. So much for watching football.
“I’m really happy for you, Lay,” Lyndi said, coming up next to me as we stared through the window.
I wrapped an arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “Thank you. I can’t wait until it’s your turn.”
