“It’s our fault for not fixing the dang thing.”
“It is indeed.” Mom picks up the casserole dish of eggs and shovels half of it onto Gabriel’s plate. He just sits there and lets her.
“No, Really. With the wedding to get ready for and everything else, I’ll deal with the plumber. I’m sure you both have places you need to be,” Gabriel says. God, he’s so thoughtful. I hadn’t even begun to think about all the things we have to do today, and I’m the freaking maid of honor. Not the best one, obviously. “And I’ll pay for it. I was the one who broke it.”
“It was broken before.” Dad’s so nonchalant. “There might be lots to do, but there’s time.”
“We won’t hear of you paying for our mess up,” Mom insists. “Now, eat. The bacon is delicious.”
“Maybe I should fast instead.”
It takes a minute for Gabriel’s joke to sink in, but then we all laugh. I don’t even realize my left hand is resting on the table beside my barely touched plate until Gabriel’s amazing, strong, slightly calloused, and manly hand slides over to rest on top of it. Normally, I hate hand-holding. I think it’s kind of gross, and I hate that hands get clammy and damp. That fingers are slightly weird, and all of me tend to get crushed in the herculean grip guys naturally have and don’t even know it. Not Gabriel, though. Of course, his hand would be just freaking right. Not damp. Not clammy. Not grasp-y. Not overpowering. It’s. Just. Right.
I want to pull away. But I don’t.
“Once the plumber gets here, we can start our crazy day. Susan should be here in an hour or so, so it will all work out just about perfect.” Mom is ever the optimist. Nothing ever gets her down. I can’t think of a single time I’ve ever seen her well and truly pissed off about anything.
I wish I’d inherited just a little of her temperament. Or my dad’s. Dad really never gets too upset about anything, either.
“I’ll help with whatever needs doing. Stick me where you will,” Gabriel says cheerfully.
His hand leaves mine, and it sucks. I wish he wouldn’t pick up his fork. I wish he wouldn’t eat. I wish, completely irrationally, that I had something to disappoint my parents about. Legit. Or not. No, that’s not what I wish. I wish Gabriel’s hand kind of, sort of, belonged to me, and that I could take it any time I wished, and he’d be okay with that. I wish. Because his hands are kind of nice, and I kind of liked it.
I kind of liked it a lot.
CHAPTER 11
Gabriel
“I’m seriously bushed!” Pearl collapses onto the end of the bed in the guest bedroom so hard that the brass bedframe actually moves a few inches to the right and the headboard bangs against the wall. “Shit!” She glances at the wall guiltily. “How do you have so much energy? You’re like, endless or boundless, or something. I’m seriously impressed. Not only did you help us set up and decorate all day, but you also met both my grandparents and my aunts and uncles and my cousins and family friends, and Dean.”
“Technically, I already knew Dean. Kind of. And I learned that your last name is Dale. That’s helpful. I nearly messed up yesterday when we got here.”
“And yours is?”
“Wickert,” I answer before I can think of a lie. I guess I’m too honest. I just hope Pearl will be too busy this weekend with the wedding tomorrow and then distracted by driving us back to Seattle the next day to do any online sleuthing.
“Wickert. Somehow, that suits you.”
“Thanks.”
“Seriously, though. Are you not exhausted?”
“I was a couple of hours ago,” I admit. “But I thought showing it would look like I wasn’t excited to meet the massive amount of your family that rolled into town. Seriously, how is the one hotel here going to accommodate everyone?”
“Oh, they’re staying a half-hour away in another small town. Remember how I said the closest hospital was there?”
“They’re okay to drive after the reception?”
“If not, they’ll just camp out in my parent’s backyard or something. Or my dad will drive people back even if it takes all night. He’s just like that.”
“Let me know if I can help. We could double up. I could drive one car, and he could drive another and give me a ride back.”
“Really? You’d do that? You seriously don’t have to do that. Oh, I almost forgot! I have your money. It’s in my bag.”
I wave it off. I still haven’t collected the envelope from Pearl’s glovebox in her car, and of course, I have no intention of doing it. “It’s fine. I trust you. You can just give it to me all at once. Don’t worry about it.”