be fine. Go ahead and put him down,” Sam said.
Maggie gently lowered the cat to the floor. She could have sworn the M on his forehead lowered in alarm but she couldn’t be sure since he bolted for Sam’s sleeping bag and climbed right inside of it. He peered out from under the edge, looking spooked. It was all the proof Maggie needed and she was ready to call it a night, but Sam shook his head at her and she knew he had read her mind.
“The house is not haunted,” Sam said. They had put several pillar candles in the fireplace to give the roomsome ambiance, but the shadows the candles threw up on the walls made Maggie skittish.
“Come here,” Sam said.
He held out his arm and Maggie scooted under it. He kissed her temple and together they leaned back against their pillows and stared at the candles flickering in the brick fireplace. Cuddled up like this Maggie could almost believe that the house was fine, that it had just been the wind, but then she remembered the flickering lights.
No, there was something more going on here, and Sam just needed to see it for himself.
“Let’s talk about something happy,” Sam said. “That’ll take your mind off of your worries.”
“All right,” Maggie said. She settled her back against Sam’s front and despite her misgivings, she felt safe and secure as if nothing could harm her while she had Sam nearby.
“Where are we going to have the wedding reception?” Sam asked.
Maggie groaned. “I thought you said we were going to talk about something happy.”
“Our wedding reception isn’t happy?” he asked.
“Your mother wants it in the church hall,” Maggie said.
“She said that?” Sam asked.
“She sent me a text letting me know it was available,” Maggie said. “At the same time my mother sent me a text recommending the gazebo in the town green.”
“What if it rains?” Sam asked.
“That was your mother’s point,” Maggie said.
“But it might not,” Sam said.
“Which was my mother’s point,” Maggie said.
“Maybe we could hire the two of them,” Sam said.
Maggie frowned. “My mother wants our cake to be strawberries and cream while your mother is lobbying for white chocolate raspberry.”
“How about we have chocolate?” Sam asked.
“Now you’re talking my language,” Maggie said. “But then we have to choose what goes on top of the cake.”
“You mean other than frosting?” Sam asked. He sounded confused, and it made Maggie smile.
“Yes, we have to decide if we’re going to have the little bride and groom statue or just flowers or live doves or whatever,” Maggie said.
“Live doves might poop on the cake,” Sam said. “I vote for flowers.”
“What kind?”
“I hear calla lilies are pretty,” he said.
“You almost brought me a bouquet of those once,” Maggie said. “But they never arrived.”
“No, I chickened out, because I was afraid to get my heart trampled again,” he said. “Let’s go with the calla lilies. I chose them that day because the florist told me they stand for rebirth.”
“As in a second chance?” Maggie asked.
“I’d like to think we’re making the most of our second time around,” he said.
“Agreed,” she said. “Calla lilies it is.”
“What else do the moms have an opinion on?” he asked.
“My hair, whether I should wear it up or down,” she said.
“Down,” Sam said. “Next.”
Maggie turned to look at him. “You’re kind of being bossy. Why does my hair need to be down?”
“Because when we were in school and I sat behind you in Mr. Meehan’s seventh grade biology class, I used to stare at your hair for hours,” he said. “It isn’t just one color, you know.”
“Red isn’t one color?” she asked.
“Not on you,” he said. “I always thought your hair was magical because I could see blond strands, copper strands and streaks of color that defied description but were as amazing to look at as honey shot with amber.”
Maggie frowned at the hair
Maggie gently lowered the cat to the floor. She could have sworn the M on his forehead lowered in alarm but she couldn’t be sure since he bolted for Sam’s sleeping bag and climbed right inside of it. He peered out from under the edge, looking spooked. It was all the proof Maggie needed and she was ready to call it a night, but Sam shook his head at her and she knew he had read her mind.
“The house is not haunted,” Sam said. They had put several pillar candles in the fireplace to give the roomsome ambiance, but the shadows the candles threw up on the walls made Maggie skittish.
“Come here,” Sam said.
He held out his arm and Maggie scooted under it. He kissed her temple and together they leaned back against their pillows and stared at the candles flickering in the brick fireplace. Cuddled up like this Maggie could almost believe that the house was fine, that it had just been the wind, but then she remembered the flickering lights.
No, there was something more going on here, and Sam just needed to see it for himself.
“Let’s talk about something happy,” Sam said. “That’ll take your mind off of your worries.”
“All right,” Maggie said. She settled her back against Sam’s front and despite her misgivings, she felt safe and secure as if nothing could harm her while she had Sam nearby.
“Where are we going to have the wedding reception?” Sam asked.
Maggie groaned. “I thought you said we were going to talk about something happy.”
“Our wedding reception isn’t happy?” he asked.
“Your mother wants it in the church hall,” Maggie said.
“She said that?” Sam asked.
“She sent me a text letting me know it was available,” Maggie said. “At the same time my mother sent me a text recommending the gazebo in the town green.”
“What if it rains?” Sam asked.
“That was your mother’s point,” Maggie said.
“But it might not,” Sam said.
“Which was my mother’s point,” Maggie said.
“Maybe we could hire the two of them,” Sam said.
Maggie frowned. “My mother wants our cake to be strawberries and cream while your mother is lobbying for white chocolate raspberry.”
“How about we have chocolate?” Sam asked.
“Now you’re talking my language,” Maggie said. “But then we have to choose what goes on top of the cake.”
“You mean other than frosting?” Sam asked. He sounded confused, and it made Maggie smile.
“Yes, we have to decide if we’re going to have the little bride and groom statue or just flowers or live doves or whatever,” Maggie said.
“Live doves might poop on the cake,” Sam said. “I vote for flowers.”
“What kind?”
“I hear calla lilies are pretty,” he said.
“You almost brought me a bouquet of those once,” Maggie said. “But they never arrived.”
“No, I chickened out, because I was afraid to get my heart trampled again,” he said. “Let’s go with the calla lilies. I chose them that day because the florist told me they stand for rebirth.”
“As in a second chance?” Maggie asked.
“I’d like to think we’re making the most of our second time around,” he said.
“Agreed,” she said. “Calla lilies it is.”
“What else do the moms have an opinion on?” he asked.
“My hair, whether I should wear it up or down,” she said.
“Down,” Sam said. “Next.”
Maggie turned to look at him. “You’re kind of being bossy. Why does my hair need to be down?”
“Because when we were in school and I sat behind you in Mr. Meehan’s seventh grade biology class, I used to stare at your hair for hours,” he said. “It isn’t just one color, you know.”
“Red isn’t one color?” she asked.
“Not on you,” he said. “I always thought your hair was magical because I could see blond strands, copper strands and streaks of color that defied description but were as amazing to look at as honey shot with amber.”
Maggie frowned at the hair
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