Page 14 of Take Me to the Wedding

Hearing a giant grown man talk baby talk to a little dog made me relax a—but just a little.

“You can shut the door,” he said. “I promise the only thing he might do is lick you to death.”

Dog saliva. Ew. “Does he jump?”

“The only thing he does is try to cuddle up with you. I swear.” He watched me close the door as if I wished I didn’t have to. “Are you okay with him being loose?”

“Um, yeah. No problem.” I wasn’t okay, not really. But I braced myself for impact.

“Okay, then. Here goes.” He stopped petting the dog. Cooper immediately rolled over, stood up, and bolted right over to me, sniffing my legs and looking up at me with big brown doggy eyes.

“You don’t have to pet him,” Caleb said. “But maybe just say hi.”

“Hi, Cooper,” I said. “You’re—you’re a good dog.” Could this be over now?

The dog gave a little whine and then lay down, resting his head on my tennis shoe.

Caleb burst out laughing.

“What? What’s he doing?” I glanced apprehensively from the dog to Caleb. Neither seemed especially concerned.

“I think he’s telling you that everything’s going to be okay.” Then he grabbed my hand. “Come on. Come see Mom. She’s making us lunch.”

As he tugged me away, the dog bolted off my foot and ran ahead of us. We walked through the foyer, past a grand oak staircase, and into a big bright kitchen. Mrs. D’Angelo was chopping something green on the large island. Caleb greeted her with “Hi, Ma!” and swept her up in a huge hug.

I had time to process something—did Caleb just hold my hand? He’d just reached over and pulled me away, his grip strong and warm and decisive. I decided that no, he did not. He was only trying to help me to get away from the dog.

Laughing, Mrs. D. wiped her hands on her apron and gave him—and then me—the biggest hug I’d had in a long time. Well, since Oma. That hug triggered all my feelings about missing her, but I quickly banished them before any tears could sneak in.

I didn’t know why I still felt so emotional. I guess being with this family made me miss the tiny family I did have. And I was seriously hug deprived.

“Oh, Samantha, honey, so wonderful to see you.” Mrs. D. held me at arm’s length. “And you’re so thin. Good thing lunch is ready.”

I grinned. “You’re the only person who ever tells me that.” Actually, Oma used to as well, usually right before she served me a plateful of her sweet, sticky baklava.

“Where’s Dad?” Caleb asked, scanning the kitchen in that predatory way young males do for any freestanding food but only finding lettuce on the cutting board.

“He’s working the south field,” Mrs. D. said. “He’ll be back soon. I made strawberry pie, so you’d better be hungry.” As she finished chopping, she nodded toward the door. “I set up everything on the patio.” The patio was actually a raised deck that overlooked a long, deep blue lake just fifty feet from the house. A little pontoon boat sat docked near shore that seemed to be begging to be taken for a ride packed with family, whom I knew included Caleb and Mia’s oldest brother Liam, his wife Dina, and their little daughter Emma. I wondered if Ani would notice if I skipped the farm weekend and just stayed here.

“Caleb Michael, what is with that beard?” Mrs. D. asked as she gestured to his scruffy cheek. “You look like a woodsman.”

“That’s the look I was going for, Ma.” He grinned and flexed, making a big show for his mom, then rubbed his three-day beard against her face. She laughed and shooed him away.

Caleb was one of those men who could be clean-shaven or scruffy and still look handsome as the devil in a natural, unforced way. But what really got me was the easy, fun way he interacted with his mom.

Lucky. He and Mia were so lucky. Both of them referred to their parents as Beth and Steven when they talked about them to us and often joked about the funny or quirky things they did or said. Maybe it was that they’d lost Grace or that Beth had beat breast cancer last year that had given them a special appreciation for each other that seemed to surpass any petty annoyances. All I knew was that I was fortunate to be in their orbit.

That was the thing though. I’d always be a little on the outside looking in no matter how wonderful they were about including me.

“Isn’t that beard a little hot for June?” Mrs. D. asked, now chopping spinach.

“Keeps the bugs away,” he retorted.

“Okay, whatever. I just love seeing your face, and with all that hair… well, never mind.”

Without warning, she took his hand and then, horrifyingly, mine as well, and led us out together through a sliding door to the deck. “I am so thrilled you two rode together. I always knew you’d find common ground.”

Ugh. Mrs. D. and Oma would’ve gotten along great together. I decided to punt on that comment though. As I met Caleb’s gaze, he looked determined to shut that right down as well.

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