Page 15 of A Midsummer Night's Ghost

Romantic was one way to interpret that. Terrifying was another.

“Are you sure the surprise isn’t you at the bottom of the lake?” I asked skeptically. “I mean, you don’t actually know this guy all that well.”

“He’s a sheriff. He’s not going to kill me.”

I wasn’t touching that one with a ten foot pole.

“Share your location with me. Does Jake know your new husband? I should ask him before you go anywhere alone with this guy. What’s his full name? I confess, I can’t remember it.”

The way she dramatically announced, “Lawson Hill” I half-expected doves to fly out of a box at her words. “I’m sure Jake will tell you he’s amazing because he is.”

Right. Lawson Hill, the older guy with salt and pepper hair, who Alyssa had insisted gave her the “look.” Apparently, she had been right.

“I’ll ask Jake about him before you go out with him tonight.”

“It’s not a big deal. I’ve already spent the night with him after our wedding.” She hung the blouse in the closet and waved her hand. “It was fine. He’s sweet. I wouldn’t have married him otherwise. He was a perfect gentleman. Well.” She picked up a pair of tailored pants and grinned. “In that he didn’t say or do anything rude or violent he was. I wouldn’t say he was atotalgentleman, if you know what I mean.”

I obviously knew what she meant. But considering I’d known Jake for years before I started dating him, our dealings with men were not on the same playing field. Alyssa was the soccer star, kicking goals and taking headers, and I was observing game play from up in the stadium nosebleeds.

Alyssa did look happy. She was wearing a skintight off-the-shoulder sweater and wide leg jeans with full makeup and loose curls. She had on stiletto boots, making me feel less than glamorous in my leggings and giant sweatshirt. I had been phoning it in with my outfits lately, I had to admit.

“Please don’t ever let Jake’s mother get wind of the fact that you’re now married. She’ll lose her mind if she finds that out when Jake and I aren’t even engaged.”

Alyssa slipped the pants onto a hanger. “I feel like she would be judgmental about me getting married after only meeting someone twice for a total of four hours.”

“No, she’ll judge you if you get divorced, not on how or why you got married.” I was only half-joking.

“Ididwait until marriage to sleep with him. I should get points for that.”

We looked at each other and both burst out laughing.

“That feels like a loophole,” I told her. “What did your parents say about all this?”

“They’re on a heavy metal rock cruise right now so they’re in the middle of the ocean with spotty cell reception. I’ll tell them when they get home but you know they won’t care. They’re high half the time and super happy. Even more happy now that THC is legal.”

Alyssa’s parents were Gen X through and through, still dressing like they had in the eighties and going to concerts all the time. Her dad wore Converse and an AC/DC T-shirt almost every day. Her mom looked like she was ready to jump on a motorcycle at any given moment. They were in their cannabis era, as Alyssa liked to say, both semi-retired and determined to live like they were still twenty-two.

They were also a lot of fun to be around.

“You have no idea how jealous I am of that.”

“Yeah, well, they’re definitely nonjudgmental, which I love. But someday when I have kids I’m going to miss having a mother who wants to babysit every weekend and a father who wears a sweater vest.”

“My mother is never going to babysit. Not even for ten minutes.”

“I thought she always pressured you to have kids.”

“She does. Doesn’t mean she plans to help me raise them. Which is her right, don’t get me wrong. Jake’s mother is going to be the one who helps all the time but will also rearrange my furniture when she’s babysitting. The babysitting won’t come without a price. Not that Jake and I are having kids,” I addedhastily, because I didn’t want to jinx my own future in discussing something Jake and I hadn’t even really discussed.

“Of course you’re getting married and having kids with Jake eventually. You just bought a house together. I wonder what my mother-in-law is like,” Alyssa said, holding a dress up against herself in the mirror. “God, you’re tiny. This dress looks like it was made for a bitty baby.”

That’s a new backhanded compliment I haven’t heard before. Usually my small frame earns me, “Are you okay?”

“I’m short and there’s nothing I can do about that. I never really gained the weight back that I lost when Ryan died either. I’m fun size, what can I say?”

“I love that for you.” Alyssa put the dress in my closet. “Have you seen Ryan recently?”

Alyssa is a skeptic. She thinks Ryan is a figment of my imagination. Some sort of grief conjured delusion. But she’s a supportive friend so she does ask about him and the whole spiritual medium unintentional side gig.

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