She’d seen Aidan, and Tango, and Carter, and of course Mercy since returning home. But she hadn’t been to any sort of sanctioned club event. She’d never met Aidan or Tango’s wives. She wasn’t Ava’s sole friend anymore. Would things feel different? Would their dynamic shift in the presence of a sister-in-law, and another girl who might as well be?
She felt acutely single, suddenly, and that wasn’t anything she’d ever felt before. She’d never felt like she might be lacking, just because she was alone, and not part of a pair.
An ugly feeling, honestly, and she berated herself for it as she unbuckled her belt and climbed out of the car.
Ava had said to come to the back door, and she could hear the low murmur of many overlapping voices as she reached it. She was shifting the bowl to one arm so she could knock when the door opened on its own, letting out warm air, and savory cooking smells, and revealed a tall, pretty blonde with glasses who Leah had never met before.
“Hi.” She had a warm, shy smile, instantly disarming. “Leah? I’m Sam.” Aidan’s wife.
“Yeah, hi, it’s so nice to finally meet you.”
“Likewise. I know Ava’s so glad you’re back in town to stay.”Oh. She pushed the door wide and stepped back. “Come on in, we just opened the wine.”
Nerves greatly settled, Leah followed her through the mudroom into the kitchen, where covered dishes were heaped on the table, and several pots steamed and hissed on the stovetop. It was a small room, and overwarm with all the cooking and the volume of bodies, but there was something so overwhelmingly homey about it: from Cal’s crayon drawings on the fridge, to the cuts hooked on the backs of the chairs.
Ava and a slight brunette stood at the stove, peering down into the pots and pans.
“What do you think, another minute?” Ava asked, stirring what looked like carrots in an iron skillet.
“Probably,” the other girl said. That must be Whitney Estes, Leah figured.
Ava glanced up, and smiled; set her spoon down and came to give Leah a hug, bowl of salad and all.
Leah was laughing by the time they pulled apart, and her stomach wasn’t fluttering anymore. “Look at you: barefoot in the kitchen at last.”
“Oh my God, I’m a cliché!” Ava groaned with mock despair, and took the bowl from her. “This smells like corn salad.”
“It is.”
“Excellent.”
“Leah, this is Whitney,” Sam said, touching the brunette on the shoulder.
Whitney was young – younger than Leah had anticipated, with big doe eyes, and a sweet smile. She offered a firm handshake, though. “It’s so nice to meet you!”
“Dude, when are we eating?” Aidan asked, entering the kitchen to root around in the cooler set up at the end of the peninsula.
Sam rolled her eyes. “When we feel like feeding you.”
“So probably never,” Ava said, firing a wine cork off the counter at him.
He caught it, pocketed it, and reached to lift the lid off one the dishes on the table.
“No!” Sam shooed him away. “We gave you guys chips and salsa.”
“Mercy ate it all.” Aidan dodged his wife, skirted around the table, and opened another dish, plucking out a green bean between two fingers and cramming it in his mouth before she could get to him.
Sam propped her hands on her hips and fired him a look across the table.
He grinned, and winked at her.
Sam’s face colored.
“Aw, they’re cute,” Leah said.
Beside her, Ava said, “Kinda nauseating, to be honest.”
“Oh, definitely.”
