Chapter 7: Maid of Honor

I buttoned Quinn's shirt to my throat and opened the door.

Roz stood on the landing in a cream coat with the bakery bag in one hand.

The phone in her other hand had a red dot on the screen.

"Turn that off," I said.

"It's just for the wedding page." She laughed and lowered it. "A little brunch with my favorite cousin. Surprise!"

She looked past my shoulder.

She looked at the green blanket on the couch, and then at the man's work boots by the door.

"Oh," she said, and her whole face lit up. "Oh, Immy. Whose boots are those?"

"A friend's."

"A friend." She grinned. "Is he in there?"

"Roz."

"I won't say a word to anyone. Promise."

She was already walking in.

She set the bag on my counter and found the mugs and the kettle without asking, the way she always did.

I closed the door and stood against it.

Behind me, the bedroom door clicked shut, softly, and I knew Quinn had heard her voice and stopped.

"Sit," Roz said. "I'm so sorry about Sunday. I've been sick about it."

I didn't sit.

"Uncle Con can be so much," she said, "and Aunt Maureen means well."

"We all handled it badly."

"I should have told you about the tent. I was ashamed to ask."

"Ashamed."

"Of asking you for more. You've already done so much."

She came around the counter and took both my hands.

Her fingers were warm and soft, and her eyes had filled.

If I hadn't read what I'd read, I'd have hugged her.