The Bff Bride. Allison Leigh
“Murphy knows there’s a baby, though?”
Isabella nodded. “We told him yesterday.”
“He figures it’s his right to make the announcement today,” Erik said wryly. “Being the big brother and all.”
“Sounds like he’s got the Clay tendencies down, born into them or not.” He leaned over and kissed Isabella’s cheek. “You’re going to be a great mom, all over again.” The circumstances leading to her becoming Murphy’s mom had been tragic. But they’d ultimately prompted their move to Weaver, where they’d found Erik and become a family.
She blinked, looking teary through her smile. “Thanks.” She sniffed quickly. “We’ll all learn together, anyway.”
“So...pretty much status quo,” Erik said wryly.
Isabella chuckled and swiped her cheek. “Pretty much.” They all looked back at the sound of footsteps as Tabby entered the kitchen.
The easy smile on Tabby’s face faded a bit as she hesitated. She didn’t look at Justin. “Um... I just came to help get the pies—”
Isabella quickly moved out of Erik’s arms. “Squire’s probably getting testy,” she said with a knowing laugh. She picked up two of the pies sitting on one counter and handed them to Erik before she grabbed two more. “Bring the plates,” she said as she and Erik left the kitchen.
Tabby quickly snatched up a stack of pie plates and started to follow, but Justin grabbed her arm. “Wait a sec.”
“They can’t eat pie without plates.”
“My family? You’re kidding, right? They could eat without hands. You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder since I got here. Don’t you think it’s time we got past that?”
Her brown eyes—usually warm and shiny as melted chocolate—were unreadable. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your lying’s on par with your French. You remember French, right? I had to help you pass it in high school.”
Her lips tightened. She pulled free and opened a drawer to extract a cake server. “If you want a slice of Gloria’s chocolate cream, you’d better get out there quick.”
He was tired of the chasm that had developed between them, even though he knew he was the cause of it in the first place. “Come on, Tabbers. We were friends long before—”
She lifted her eyebrows and gave him a look that stopped any further discussion. “Pie’s a big deal in this house at Thanksgiving. Or have you forgotten that, living the fancy life in Boston?”
She turned on her heel, and her glossy hair flipped around her shoulders as she left the kitchen.
He exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose.
There were a few things he’d always counted on. The love and support of his big, crazy family. His own ability to figure out a convoluted puzzle. And the easygoing friendship of one Tabitha Taggart.
Yeah, he knew he’d messed up with her pretty good, but that had been four years ago. Stacked up against the rest of their lifelong friendship, couldn’t one monumentally stupid move on his part be forgotten?
Or at least forgiven?
He blew out another breath and grabbed the last two pies that were sitting on the counter and carried them out to the dining room.
“Oh, good. Set them there, honey.” His mom pointed with the long knife she was using to cut the pies, and he set them on the table. She’d already divvied out two pumpkin pies onto plates. “There’s a gallon of homemade vanilla ice cream in the freezer. Would you mind getting that, too? Oh, and the glass bowl in the fridge with the whipped cream.”
He turned around and retrieved the items. When he got back to the dining room, she’d finished plating the chocolate cream. He grabbed a slice while the grabbing was good and went back into the living room. It was a huge space. Always had been, with three couches long enough that even his dad—nearly six and a half feet tall—could stretch out, and an eclectic collection of side chairs and recliners. With all the family around—or close to it, anyway—there still weren’t enough seats. So folding chairs had been dragged in. And cushions to lean against on the floor.
He took the same corner he’d been in before dinner. Since he’d forgotten a fork, he picked up the wedge of pie in his fingers and took a bite.
“Neanderthal.” His cousin JD dropped a plastic fork onto his plate as she carried two plates to the couch closest to him. She handed one to her husband, Jake, then sat down on the floor in front of him, her legs stretched out. Justin knew she’d have sat on Jake’s knee if it hadn’t already been occupied by their sleeping little boy, Tucker.
Justin jerked his chin toward her. “When does Tuck start kindergarten?”
“Next fall.” She looked over her shoulder at the little boy and gently swiped his messy brown hair off his forehead. “He was upset that he didn’t get to go this year.”
“Gonna have any more?”
She and Jake shared a look.
“Yes,” she said.
“No,” he said.
Justin hid his smile around a bite of his grandma’s delicious pie. Tucker had been born very prematurely. Though it looked like JD had gotten over it and was ready to go again, her husband had not.
“When’re you gonna get yourself a wife?” Squire’s voice carried across the room, and there was no question he’d directed his words to Justin. The old man was looking straight at him.
For some reason, Justin found himself glancing toward Tabby across the room.
“Justin’s never gonna get married,” Axel—yet another cousin—drawled before he could answer. “He told us all that when he graduated from high school. He was gonna go off and cure disease and save the world. Remember?”
Justin grimaced.
“He’d just had his heart broken by—what was her name?” His dad’s eyes narrowed as he thought back. “Pretty girl. Short blond hair.”
“Colleen,” his mother called out from the dining room.
“Collette,” Tabby corrected. “Summers. Her dad worked for the electric company.”
“Collette Summers,” Caleb repeated. “She was so hot.”
“What do you know about hot? You were dating Kelly Rasmussen,” Justin reminded.
“Whatever happened to Kelly,” someone asked.
“Can I tell ’em now?”
Everyone looked toward Murphy, who’d loudly interrupted the conversation.
Erik grinned. “Go for it, Murph.”
The boy uncoiled from his seat on the floor, standing up to his full height. “We’re getting a baby,” he announced, his cheeks red, his eyes beaming.
Isabella laughed and reached out to squeeze his hand. “I don’t know about getting,” she said humorously. “But we’re definitely having one. Should be making his or her arrival sometime next April.”
Justin’s mother had finally finished cutting pies. She stared at them slack jawed for a moment before virtually vaulting over people and furniture to grab Izzy in a hug. “Another grandbaby.” She looped her other arm around Murphy and kissed his forehead. “A grandson has been wonderful, and this baby is going to be fabulous!”
Hope had about a half second before the rest of the crew started climbing around them to give their own hugs.
When Justin got the third elbow in the head during the process, he gave up his corner spot and found