She let out a sigh of relief, surprised and soothed by the man’s warmth. For a moment she forgot she was supposed to be nervous about coming clean to Tony tomorrow.
“Gabrielle, Tony tells me some great things about you. In fact he won’t stop talking about you.” Mr. Ford chuckled as the three of them walked through the mansion, the old hardwood floors creaking beneath them.
“Oh, lovely—you’re here!” Mrs. Ford said as they entered the kitchen. She was wearing a forest green silk top, black pants, and a strand of pearls. Her hair was twisted into an elaborate updo, reminding Gabby of Laura’s hair during the pageant phase she went through sophomore year. “Come here, darling,” she said, walking over to Gabby with open arms.
The two hugged, and Gabby stayed in her arms just a little longer than she probably should have. The motherly embrace was so comforting. Whenever she visited her mom at the prison, their hugs were quick, under the cold stare of a guard.
“Thank you so much for having me,” she said, finally letting go.
“Well, I would have been offended if you didn’t come!” she said, holding Gabby’s cheeks with her hands. “I just can’t believe you two are engaged! We need to toast this properly as a family. That’s why I called Raymond and said, ‘You better get your butt over here and meet this wonderful future daughter-in-law of yours. The governor can pardon that turkey himself!’ So he came home a little early.’?” She took Gabby’s hand and led her to the bar cart in front of the bay window. The setup looked like it was straight from the pages of Southern Living. “Champagne?” Mrs. Ford poured some Veuve Clicquot in a crystal flute and handed it to Gabby.
“This is just Mom’s way of making sure you’re not knocked up,” a voice from behind added. “Y’all got engaged so fast, after all.”
Gabby choked on her champagne and turned to see Carter, Tony’s seventeen-year-old brother, coming down the stairs.
“Oh stop,” Mrs. Ford said, swatting at his shoulder. “It’s not too late to ship you off to boarding school, you know.”
He laughed and walked over to Gabby. “Congrats,” he said, greeting her with a sweet hug. “You’re like the sister I always wanted.”
“Excuse me!” Tony and Carter’s twenty-two-year-old sister, Willow, came down the stairs, popping her brother on his shoulder. She walked over to Gabby and hugged her. “It’s so good to see you again!” She grabbed Gabby’s left hand and studied the diamond. “Beautiful! Did he tell you he picked this out all on his own? Boy’s got some serious taste.”
Gabby laughed. “Yes, he does,” she agreed.
“Good taste in jewelry, good taste in girls . . .” Mrs. Ford squeezed Gabby’s shoulder. “I’m just over the moon that all of us could be here together to celebrate this happy occasion.”
That sick, nervous feeling came back, knotting Gabby’s stomach. How could she pretend to be happy today, when tomorrow her heart might be broken?
Tony whispered in Gabby’s ear: “She’s on her second glass of champagne. She’ll be saying stuff like this for the rest of the night—just a warning.”
“To Tony and Gabrielle,” Mr. Ford said, raising his glass high. “Welcome to the family, sweetheart.”
She raised her flute to him and smiled. If only.
? ? ?
“SO, HAVE YOU guys talked about a date yet?” Mrs. Ford asked, passing the cranberry sauce. The wine had been flowing over the course of dinner, and they’d fallen into one enjoyable conversation after another. It was inevitable that wedding talk would come up at some point, but now—maybe it was the wine, or the comfortable presence of Tony’s parents—it didn’t really bother Gabby. She just let herself soak it in and enjoy the little time she had left.
“Not yet. Just taking it one day at a time.” As in, one day from now, we might not be engaged anymore. She scooped some mashed potatoes onto her plate.
“Do you know what kind of wedding you want?” Willow asked from the other end of the table.
“Um, we haven’t really talked about it yet,” Gabby said, pushing her turkey into her cranberry sauce.
“You must have some idea,” Willow said, taking a sip of wine. “Heck, I’m not even dating anybody, but I’ve got my wedding already planned out.”
Gabby laughed, but she understood. She and Claire had been playing “bride” since they were eight. They’d found a couple of old bridal magazines in the local library’s giveaway box, and each built a dream book. Gabby’s was filled with everything she could possibly want for her wedding day: a lace sheath dress, a cake with multiple levels, and of course a handsome groom in a tux.
“Yeah, we haven’t discussed this yet,” Tony said, wiping his face with his napkin. “What’s your fantasy wedding?”
She thought back to those magazine tear-outs, to the day she’d planned down to the littlest details. “Well . . .” she said softly, feeling a twinge of excitement. “I’ve always pictured a classic southern wedding. Magnolias everywhere . . . maybe an outdoor ceremony at an antebellum mansion covered in oak trees?”
“Gorgeous!” Mrs. Ford said enthusiastically.
“Have you set up your Pinterest board yet?” Willow chimed in. “There are so many great ideas for DIY projects. I’ll help you with anything you need. If you want to go shopping for a dress or need help planning or making chalkboard signs, I’m your girl.”
“Ooh! Me, too,” Mrs. Ford said, her third flute of champagne in her hand. She and Raymond exchanged a knowing glance, then smiled at Tony and Gabby. The loving look they were both giving the couple was so . . . parental. For the first time in her life, Gabby could imagine what it would have been like growing up in a normal family. “Also, we want you both to know that we’re planning to foot the bill for this whole event, so there’s no need to stress about money, okay? I know Tony’s got a lot of student loans to pay off and your parents . . .” She cocked her head to the side and smiled softly, her eyes tearing up a little. “Well, this is just something we want to do for y’all.”
Gabby gasped, about to protest, but Tony spoke before she could.
“Thanks, Mom,” he said, putting his arm around Gabby’s chair. “We really appreciate it.”
Gabby’s eyes began to water just like Mrs. Ford’s, though for another reason. She looked around the table at all the love surrounding her. Tony, his family . . . they were all so wonderful. They really made her feel like she was one of them, and she could want nothing more. An irrational thought crossed her mind and she latched onto it. Maybe she didn’t have to tell Tony the truth after all. It’d been six months and he hadn’t found out yet. Maybe—just maybe—she could get away with it. The idea took root in her heart. She could do this.
She had to.
18
claire