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I take a seat next to Bailey on the couch, leaving almost a cushion between us without thinking. But a fiancé wouldn’t leave a cushion of space. Heck, I wouldn’t leave a small throw pillow between me and a real fiancée. And I absolutely don’t want space between Bailey and me. I scoot over until I’m practically in her lap, then take her hand, lacing our fingers together.That’swhat a fiancé would do.
Actually, I’d do more. But maybe not with Mom and Zella in the room. This is astart.
“I can’t believe I’m meeting you,” Bailey says. “I mean, I’m a huge fan. I watched your whole season, and you totally should have won.”
“Won what?” I ask, and Zella laughs when Mom tosses a pillow at me. I catch it in my free hand—no way am I letting go of Bailey—and set it next to me.
“Oh, my sweet son,” Mom says. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you don’t watchSew Strange.”
“Is this related to Dr. Strange?” I ask, knowing full well it probably isn’t.
Zella laughs, Mom groans, and Bailey leans close, saying, “Sew Strangeis a design competition. Zella was the runner-up two seasons ago.”
“Sorry, Zella,” I say. “I don’t follow fashion.”
“I don’t follow hockey. We’ll call it even.” She winks.
“You and Bailey both,” I grumble. “Though I’m working on Bailey.” I give her fingers a squeeze. Because I CAN.
“Hey!” Bailey protests, nudging me with her elbow. “Now that I know you play hockey, I’m happy to support you.”
And she has. The last two nights, she was there in the stands beside Mom. Wearing my jersey. Red-faced from shouting every time I glanced up, which was often.
Me? I’ve never played better.
“You didn’t know he played hockey when you met?” Zella leans forward, sliding steaming mugs our way. I’m not a tea kind of guy, but it doesn’t smell half-bad. Like cinnamon and some other spices I can’t name.
Bailey shakes her head. “No idea. I’m probably the only one in town who didn’t know and didn’t follow him on TikTok.”
“Didn’t?” I ask, grinning. “As in, you do now?”
Bailey bites her lip, but it doesn’t hide her smile. “Maybe.”
The idea of Bailey watching my TikToks makes me ridiculously happy. It also makes me want to do a whole new series. Shirtless, maybe.
“You two are adorable,” Zella says, lifting the mug of tea to her lips with a smile. “Now, Bailey—how can I help? What I hear is that you need a wedding dress—and fast.” Before Bailey can protest, and it’s clear she’s about to, Zella holds up a hand. “And before we get started, please know that we’re friendshere. Friends don’t talk about money, and they don’t apologize. Understand?”
It’s more of a challenge than a question, but Bailey shifts next to me, and I can feel the tension radiating from her, through her hand. I squeeze her fingers and offer her a reassuring smile.
“I—yes. But—” she starts.
“Also no buts,” Zella says. “That’s rule three. Here’s how this will work. You’re going to tell me what you want, and I’m going to make you a dress. As for payment, Maggie and I have an arrangement, so it will not even be discussed. Is this clear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bailey says.
Zella levels her with a teasing glare. “But if you call me ma’am again, I’ll rescind this offer and the payment will be walking all my monsters once a day for a month.”
“Yes … Zella.”
“How’s Annie, by the way?” Zella asks, taking a sip of tea.
Mom beams. “You know Annie. Bouncing around, living a loud, philosophically nomadic life.”
“Philosophically nomadic?” Bailey asks.
“It means my sister changes jobs, apartments, and boyfriends every few months. She never lands anywhere long,” I explain.
“But she does always land on her feet,” Mom adds. “She’s coming for the wedding. But, of course, I don’t know when.”
