Page 56 of Good Guy Gabe

This is the night.

I end up getting dragged back to the master bedroom with Liza and her sister Sally so they can show me theirgrandmother’s quilts. They’re rustic, mostly handstitched, made from traditional prints.

I have a laugh when they show me the traditionally pieced Cathedral Window. “This is what I was making when I first met Gabe. I make it a different way than this, but plenty of quilters will say this is the only right way.” I look up to Liza and notice she and her sister are both holding their breath in anticipation. I’m not sure what for, though. “Have you shown these to Gabe recently? He’ll know some of these patterns now.”

“Tell us the whole story!” Sally coos.

Liza asks, “Was he romantic?”

“What? Oh.” I can’t hold back my giant grin. “He was, actually. The first thing he told me was that he thought I was a marry.”

They seem satisfied with this answer, albeit confused. By the time we head back to the party — Sally stopping in Leah’s room to rouse Abigail, who’s asleep with a very-much awake infant crawling on her — there’s no way I’d be able to convince them I’m anything less than a fiancée.

I scan the den when we return, lamenting that as an average height woman, I’m no match for Gabe’s family’s genetics, but he’s still been easy to spot all night. I frown, concerned he might have joined the men who went out earlier to smoke cigars. That smell is definitely going to turn my stomach after an evening of highly suspicious dishes brought in by the relatives. But no, everyone is accounted for other than Gabe.

Phoebe solves the mystery for me when she points at the monster eight-foot Christmas tree. I peek around everyone until I see that sitting criss-cross applesauce, Gabe is playingmountain for his niece and nephew. Oliver is attempting to scale him while Luna is pushing a toy train up his arm.

Gabe, bless him, looks pleased as anything keeping the little ones contained while the adults mingle around him.

He doesn’t even like kids, but he’s putting the effort in.

Something catches his attention, I’m not sure what, but his eyes are suddenly on me and looking concerned. Liza nudges my arm, discreetly passing me a paper napkin, and I realize I’m crying.I love you, I mouth to Gabe so he doesn’t think these are sad or angry or frustrated orI remembered a commercial with dogs in itorwhy won’t this peanut butter jar opentears.

He makes a roaring sound, getting everyone’s attention and making the kids squeal, but really, he’s just standing dramatically, the mountain coming to life as a dragon with a kid under each arm. It’s as good a way as any to start, I guess, and he yells, “We got an announcement!” as he makes his way through the crowd to me.

Dwayne grumbles, “They actually sign your ass again?” behind me.

I turn to glare because wow, this is not the time, and Gabe’s actually been really stressed about it even though I’ve assured him a million times that what we have saved between us is plenty if he’s not. Hank smacks Dwayne upside the head and winks at me.

Pretty sure Hank’s my new hero.

“I knew it, I knew it.”

“You didn’t know it,” Phoebe scoffs.

Liza swats her daughter with her towel, wielding it with expert precision. “I did, too. I knew it the moment I set eyes on her. She’s got that expectant mama glow.”

Phoebe rolls her eyes and dunks another of the endless stack of plates in the sink. There was a whole fight this morning about whether this was a fine china or paper plate event, Liza championing china while everyone else told her she’d be frustrated when it came to cleanup time.

I mentioned the risk of her nice plates breaking, and she said she had more plates in the set than she’d ever need, so I offered to help wash them if she wanted to use them. Now, though, she isn’t having any of that. Not with the next grandbaby in here. Phoebe isn’t putting up a fuss about taking over my task while Liza dries them, and I’ve been keeping myself helpful packing up stacks of tupperware, so it’s worked out.

“It’s not mama glow, it’s frostbite,” Phoebe argues. “She’s from Alabama. She’s probably never been this cold in her life.”

Alabama has its cold moments and Wilmington has a decent winter — nothing like this, but plenty of snow — but I’m not going to argue. Itiscold.

“It’s mama glow. And then she confirmed it when she didn’t have a drink with us yesterday.”

“It was eleven in the morning, and we were doing shots of whiskey.”

Liza sniffs indignantly. “I wasnotdrinking shots.”

“Pfft. We both saw the splash of soda you used.”

“I knew she was pregnant! Why do you think I told everyone they’re engaged?”

“Because you’re clearly a lunatic who needs to be tossed in an asylum.”

I seal up another container and add it to the stack, quietly smiling as they trade jabs. It was always mom and me growing up. No siblings, no dad in the picture. Supposedly he died before I was born, but the older I got, the more I suspected she was never in a relationship with him. I’ve spent a lot of time with Cora’s family, and Brian and I visited his family on holidays, but every family is different. Watching Liza and Phoebe bicker makes me happier than it should. There’s so much love.

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