“I don’t have a matchmaking voice.”
“You absolutely do.”
Russell arrived with wine and a bag of peaches from his yard. He had silver at his temples, gentle hands, and a way of listening that made people finish their thoughts instead of hiding them.
I noticed that first.
I also noticed how closely my father watched us.
]Over Sunday dinners, long walks, and late-night phone calls, I stopped caring what anyone thought. Six months later, Russell proposed in my father’s backyard beneath the oak tree where Max used to bury toy cars.
Dad cried before I even answered.
I said yes.
The morning of the wedding, Juliet fixed my earrings and studied my reflection.
“Are you sure, Mom?” Mother-daughterjewelry
“I’m sure, Jules. I promise.”
Max leaned against the doorway.
read more in next page
