Page 56

White hair. Kind eyes. The exact face from another photo I saw on Instagram.

She looks at me. Then at Luke. Then back at me.

Dottie’s whole face warms.

“Well. Who is this beautiful young woman?”

“Dottie, this is Olivia.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” I say.

“And you, sweetheart.”

She turns back to Luke with a look I recognize instantly, because I have watched Harper and Ivy wear it a hundred times.

“So.” She sets a hand on her hip. “How do you know each other?”

Luke glances at me before answering. “We had coffee this week.”

Dottie’s eyebrows shoot up.

“You told me you were getting coffee.” She pauses. “You neglected to mention it was with a beautiful woman.”

“I didn’t think that part was important.”

“Oh, I think it was very important.”

Then she turns to me, eyes twinkling.

“So. Was this coffee just coffee...” She lets it hang, “or was it a date?”

I feel four sets of expectations land on me at once—Dottie’s, Luke’s, Bo’s, and my own, which is somehow the loudest.

“That,” I say carefully, “is a very good question.”

Dottie beams like I’ve said something brilliant. “I like her.”

“You just met her,” Luke says.

“I have excellent instincts.”

Bo looks up at me. “Are you sitting with us?”

And there it is.

The exact thing I’d spent all morning bracing against.

Walking in alone. Finding a seat alone. Sitting through an entire service pretending I didn’t notice the empty space beside me.

Except now there’s a ten-year-old asking if I’ll sit with them.

Like there was never a version of this morning where I ended up by myself.

“I—”

“She’s sitting with us,” Dottie decides, already looping her arm through mine.

“I guess I’m sitting with you,” I tell Bo.