Great. Couldn’t they pick a less complicated topic? Maybe Middle Eastern politics? The chemical composition of Mountain Dew? “What about him?” I asked.
“You married him,” Sylvie reminded me.
The truth never got any prettier, did it? “Yes, I did. But I thought we’d established that, so I’m not sure why you need more confirmation.”
Hattie slipped into therapist mode, gentling her voice. “What we need to know is that you’re okay.”
“Of course I am.”
“We mean for real,” Sylvie added.
“Still okay.”
Frannie licked stray icing off her hand. “For really reals.”
“You guys, I know it’s been a shock.” And nobody was shocked more than I was. “But when it’s right, it’s right.” My marriage happened to have been super wrong, but the statement still held truth…in a universal sort of way. “Lachlan and I have known each other a very long time, and when we reconnected, we found deep feelings there.” Like anger and disgust. Oh, and let’s not forget some nausea and a clammy sweat.
“We just want you to be happy.” Rosie looked more than concerned. “Are you happy?”
I hated lying to my family. They were my everything. Lord knew I would lovingly harass any of them who went to Vegas for a party and came back married to a near-stranger. “I have a job I love and a husband who I just spent my lunch break with.”
“You don’t take a lunch,” Rosie said.
“I did today.”
“Aw, he’s changing our girl already.” Sylvie high-fived Frannie. “Next she’ll be cutting out of work early—like at eight p.m.—to go home and canoodle her handsome hubby.”
I hated that wordhubby. Was it really that much of a time-saver to not say that extra syllable inhusband? Who’d rebrandedthatword?
“Things seemed really stressful on that last day in Vegas,” Hattie said. “You fled town without us.”
I smiled brightly. “Who knew I was marrying a media sensation?”
“I once married a media sensation,” Frannie said. “My third husband was the two a.m. host of the knitting show on our local PBS station.” She shook her dark head. “He once made me and his hairless cat matching sweaters. When we got divorced, his fan club threw a party and doubled their financial pledges. The hussies.”
“Do you need money?” Rosie asked me.
Good heavens. “No.”
She tried again. “Health insurance?”
“No.”
“The cheat codes toMars Wars?” Frannie noticed our stares. “What? It’s a good game. Olivia could’ve been desperate to unlock a new level.”
My grandmother gave a stern eye roll. “If that coding’s anything like the Pentagon database, I can hack that game in three seconds. No need for nuptials.”
It was time to wrap up this intervention. “Thank you for your concern. I do love you all for it. But I know what I’m doing, and I’m going to be okay. It would mean a lot to me if you’d drop any hostility”—I shot my grandmother a look—“and any surveillance devices—and welcome Lachlan into our family. Our brood can be a little intimidating, especially those of you with concealed carry licenses, so any kindness you show him would be appreciated.”
“All right,” Rosie said. “We’ll play nice.”
“Thank you.” I rose from my seat and slung my purse over my shoulder.
Hattie walked with me to the door, the others following behind. “If you’re happy, then that’s all we need to know.”
Rosie nodded her agreement. “She does seem happier since we got back from Vegas.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Though I had caught myself singing in the shower this morning. And I even smiled at Morgan in the hallway. “I mean, I’ve always been a moderately happy person. Maybe not in a showy way, but—”
