This, he remembered, was the “forty-eight-hour event prep day” Tessa and Lacey were coordinating. He hoped it would be nearly finished by the time he got back from picking up Kate at the airport.
Tessa was clearly in charge, giving orders, whispering to Lacey, and orchestrating the madness like a symphony conductor.
The salon owner he’d met earlier, Akari, draped gowns over the back of the sofa while someone he assumed was her assistant unzipped each bag lovingly.
A few unfamiliar models walked around in bridal gowns, their skirts fanning out as they moved. Nolie flitted through the chaos, her excitement tangible, clasping her hands and exclaiming over lace details and embroidery.
Even Aunt Pittypat was in the midst of it, yipping from her perch on the couch, her tiny paws twitching in anticipation of being scooped up and adored.
Vivien and Crista were elbows deep, too, helping lay out the men’s clothes Eli, Jonah, and Peter had been fitted for.
He glanced at his watch, impatient for his phone alarm to let him know it was time to leave for the airport.
“Do you want to try on your shoes?” Vivien asked him, holding black dress shoes that looked like medieval torture devices.
“Not particularly. I’m an eleven. I’ll wear anything.”
“These run tight.”
“I’m sure they do. I’ll make it work, Viv. Can I borrow your SUV to get Kate and the crew? I don’t want to stuff them into my truck.”
“Of course.” She held up the shoes. “Put one on.”
“Lacey, I need all the veils!” Tessa called out.
“And we have tiaras,” Akari added.
“Ooh, tiaras!” Nolie scampered closer. “Is that like a crown? I love crowns.”
Eli took a step backwards, the impact of all this femininity too much for him. “I’m, uh, going up to talk to Jonah,” he said, pointing to the garage.
“Chicken,” Vivien muttered.
He laughed and threaded his way through mountains of silk to the kitchen to escape, grabbing Vivien’s keys from the entry table on his way out.
In the garage, he took the steps up to the sanctuary of the apartment, and almost immediately felt the change. The space smelled of wood shavings and fresh paint, the remnants of their latest project—finishing the baseboards.
The kitchenette wasn’t done yet, but they could finish that in May. He’d hoped to have furniture in before Kate, Jo Ellen, and the kids came, but it didn’t quite happen. They’d figured out the sleeping arrangements, though. Kate would bunk with Tessa, Jo Ellen would go upstairs in what used to be Kate’s room, and the kids were on air mattresses downstairs.
It would be like camping. It would be like old times on the property. For Eli, with Kate in his arms again, it would be like heaven.
He meandered through the living and kitchen area, toward one of the bedrooms, surprised not to hear a sound. Jonah usually played music while he painted, but it was silent.
Was he even up here?
Eli stuck his head in one of the bedrooms, blinking at the sight of his son huddled over in a corner.
He sat with his head between his legs. His shoulders were hunched over as he stared at the floor, a half-empty bottle of Gatorade dangling from his fingers. His long hair, usually tousled in an effortless way, was a mess like he’d been running his hands through it for hours.
When he looked up, sunlight cut across his features, highlighting the tension in his jaw, and red-rimmed eyes.
“What’s going on?” Eli asked.
“Nothing.” The word was gruff, whispered, and definitely not true. Something was most certainly going on.
Eli crouched in front of him, but Jonah’s gaze didn’t connect.
Didn’t matter. Eli knew that pained expression, with agony in his eyes and tears ready any minute. He’d seen it for years after Melissa died, every day—hollow, aching, lost.
