Like You Love Me (Honey Creek 1)

Before I answer, I glance over at Sophie. Despite her antics, there’s a very real anxiety in her eyes. I hate it. A lot.

I hold my hand in the air between us with my palm up. Her gaze falls on my extended fingers for a long couple of seconds before she reaches up and very carefully lays her hand in mine.

A zing winds through me like hot coffee on a cold day. I give her hand a little squeeze before resting them on the console between us.

“I have some news,” I begin. “Some . . . bigger news than you’re probably expecting.”

“I’m waiting.”

“I got married today, Pap.”

My declaration is met with silence. Total, absolute silence—both from my grandfather and my wife.

Sophie holds her breath, her eyes glued to Pap’s name on the radio display, while she waits for his reaction.

I shift in my seat, unable to take it anymore. “Did you hear me?”

“You got married today? Is that what you said?”

“It is.”

“To whom? Are you still in Honey Creek? What’s going on, Holden?”

I cough to clear my throat. “Believe it or not, but I married Sophie Bates today.”

“You married who?” His laugh is loud and throaty, filling the car. “Did you say you married Sophie?”

“I did.” I shake my head. “What’s so funny about that?”

My eyes stay trained on the road. I don’t look at the woman next to me because I’m not sure how to reassure her. I’m not even sure if that’s what’s needed, because I don’t really know how to read Pap’s reaction.

“I love you, Holden,” he says, getting himself together. “I do. You take after me—smart, good-looking, charming.”

“Um, thanks. I think. I want to say thanks, but something tells me there’s a but coming.”

Sophie tries to slip her hand from mine, but I clamp down on it, refusing to let go.

“But with that being said, there’s no way in hell that Sophie Bates married you.”

My brows pull together. “Well, she did.”

“She did not. What’s really going on?” he asks.

“I got married,” I repeat. This time, the exasperation in my voice is evident. “To Sophie.”

“That little firecracker would chew you up and spit you out. She’s a handful, that one. Comes into the clinic and gives me hell at least once a week.”

I look at her over my shoulder. She shrugs sheepishly.

“Did you know she cleans my shop once a month?” he asks.

“She does?”

“Ever since she came back from college, she has. My girl quit, and Sophie heard me talking about it one day and volunteered to help me out and refused to take a paycheck. If I try to pay her, she just hides the money somewhere in the shop, and I find it eventually. I told her to stop cleaning if she wouldn’t take payment, but she finagled a key from Dottie. So I gave up. Sophie does what Sophie wants.”

My core warms as I imagine Sophie helping out Pap. When I look at her, she’s picking at the hem of her shirt. I want to reach out and bring her attention to me, but I don’t.

I have so many questions for her. Why does she do that? Who else does she help? But before I can get too far with them, Pap distracts me.

“What are you really doing, kiddo?” he asks.

“I’m not joking. I really did marry Sophie today.” I look over at Sophie and shrug.

“Hey, Fred,” Sophie says, leaning on the console.

“Well, I’ll be,” Pap says. “Is my grandson telling me the truth, Sophie Girl?”

She smiles. “He is. We’re family now, Fred. What do you think of that?”

“If that ain’t somethin’. I had no idea you two knew each other like that.”

“We just reconnected,” Sophie says, repeating the words I told Haley. “And we decided not to beat around the bush about it. When you know, you know.”

Pap hums through the line. I’ve heard this a few times in my life—like when I told him I was graduating with honors. When I got accepted into veterinary school. When I agreed to come down to Honey Creek a couple of weeks ago.

I can imagine him sitting back in his chair, his feet up on a desk or an ottoman. He probably has a cigar burning in an ashtray, because he never actually smokes them, and is wearing a button-down shirt with small pictures of an animal repeated on the fabric.

And smiling. He’s definitely smiling.

That makes me smile.

“Does this mean you’ll let me pay you for cleaning now?” Pap asks.

“This means I’m really not letting you pay me now.” Sophie giggles. “You know what I will let you do, though?”

“What’s that?”

“I’ll let you tell Dottie to give me all of Birdie’s apple pies. Since we’re family now and all.”

Pap bursts into a fit of laughter. “Oh no. I’m not about to get in between you and Dottie and those pies. I might be old, but I’m not senile.”