Page 80 of Forgiving Her First Love

“Oh sure.” Emma was sprinkling seasonings over a raw, plucked bird that was already in a roasting pan. “Do you want to stay for dinner? I expected Trystan to join us so I took out this chook and look at it. It’s a monster. I’m starting to think it’s a turkey. How do you tell?”

“You read the label when you buy it.”

“The label said it came from a farmer’s market in Port Hardy. Glenda must have brought it.”

“Helpful.” Sophie leaned closer to give the bird a sniff, but only caught a noseful of thyme and rosemary. “We’ll find out when you cook it, won’t we?”

“Soph?” Logan’s hand squeezed her waist as he came up beside her. “You want something to drink? Beer? Wine?”

“Day drinking on a Sunday sounds like a nap before dinner, but sure. White, please.”

“I could have sworn you two already had a nap,” Trystan said under his breath, but not really, as he reached into a cupboard and handed a glass across to Logan.

“You got something to say, sailor?” Sophie challenged.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Em? Wine?”

Emma was swinging her head like she was watching a tennis match.

“Thanks.” She nodded at Trystan.

He passed a second glass to Logan and closed the cupboard. “Where’s Reid?”

“Getting up from his own nap, I imagine,” Logan drawled.

“Getting Storm up from hers,” Emma corrected indignantly. Then in an aside to Sophie confided, “But I have made the bed twice today.” Her gaze flickered curiously between her and Logan.

“I only make it when I put clean sheets on it,” Sophie said. “Otherwise, I’m wasting time I could spend sleeping in it.”

“Ta.” Emma smiled at Logan as he set her filled glass within reach.

“I’ll get the beer then?” Logan said to Trystan. “Since you’re going to stand around sulking because you didn’t get your own nap today?” He turned and went down the stairs.

“Sometimes I feel so sorry for Glenda,” Sophie said to Emma as she rolled the stem of her glass between her fingers and thumb. “Can you imagine eighteen years of these three locking horns?”

“She’s a saint. Is the oven hot, Trys? Can you—Oh, thanks.”

He opened the oven and took the roaster from her, sliding it onto the rack.

“Hopefully we’ll eat by six. Who wants scalloped potatoes?” Emma asked.

“Who doesn’t?” Sophie asked, eyeing Trystan, trying to tell if he was genuinely annoyed at her and Logan hooking up or using it as an excuse to needle his brother.

“I’ll start those in a little bit, then.” Emma washed her hands and was drying them on a tea towel when Reid walked in with a sleepy Storm.

“Oh, hello,” Sophie said warmly.

Storm wasn’t interested in a bunch of people, even the ones she loved. She turned her face away and sucked her fingers, head resting trustingly on Reid’s shoulder.

“She hasn’t had her coffee yet,” Reid joked, rubbing her back. “How are you, Soph?”

“Well enough.” She kept to herself that she cried every morning when she woke and remembered all over again that Gramps was gone.

He nodded and asked Trys, “So what’s up?”

“Let’s sit down.”

Logan returned with cans of beer and handed them out as they all took seats in the living room. Logan sat on the floor in front of Sophie, resting his back against the front of the sofa, something that Reid noted with a glance toward Emma.

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