Sophie’s father looked at Michael sharply, his blue eyes boring through the computer screen. “Are you courting my daughter, young man?”
“Yes, sir, that is my intent. With your approval, of course.” Michael seemed quite comfortable, his dashing, formal style well suited for asking a man’s permission to date his daughter. His twenty-nine-year-old daughter who does not require her father’s permission to date anyone! Sophie thought furiously. But this was clearly not a good time to argue. “Sophie means the world to me. My intentions toward her are entirely honorable, sir.”
Don mumbled something about the definition of honorable these days, but seemed to consider Michael’s declaration acceptable. Sophie felt dazed as she explained to her parents what they might see in the media in the days ahead. They promised not to talk to reporters and keep the rest of the family in line.
When they disconnected, she turned to him in shock. “You handled that better than anyone ever should have.”
He laughed and kissed her forehead. “It seemed too early to ask for your hand in marriage. Besides, when the time comes, I will speak to your father in person. That is the appropriate thing to do.” She froze until she saw the teasing glint in his eye. She tried to punch him in the shoulder, but he easily blocked her and kissed her instead.
-
March 2, 2014
On Sunday, just before lunch, Michael and Sophie walked up to the front door of the DeVries estate, loaded down with presents for little Michael. Before they could ring the doorbell, Carter yanked the door open. He looked at Michael and burst into tears. Sophie turned to him in alarm, but she may as well have been a piece of furniture for all the attention he paid her. Michael dropped the gifts and threw his arms around Carter in a crushing embrace.
Sophie stood agog as they hugged each other, pounding one another on the back and spewing obscenities. Eventually they backed off, cursing and punching each other.
“Sophie. Shit, come in.” Carter hugged her tight. She shuffled inside and piled the mountain of presents by the door. Michael and Carter were still whacking at one another, so she peeked around the corner into the den to see Janet holding her son on her lap while she patted him on the back.
“Hi, Sophie,” she said with a tired smile. “Come on in. He’s just finished his lunch.” Sophie slipped into the room and sat down on the couch beside Janet. “This is little Michael. Let me finish burping him so he doesn’t spit up on you. He tends to do that when you least expect it.” She laughed as Sophie’s eyes widened in alarm at the mention of baby vomit.
A few moments later, Janet had coaxed a burp out of the baby. “There we go.” She wrapped him expertly in a blanket. “Now you can meet your Auntie Sophie at last.” She held her son out to Sophie, who sat frozen in terror.
“I’m not good with babies,” she mumbled. “I mean, I delivered one, but that was an extreme situation.”
A set of big hands swooped down from behind her and whisked the swaddled baby away. She watched open-mouthed as Michael wandered across the room with little Michael in his arms, crooning away in Orlisian. When he reached the other side and turned around, he stopped dead, noticing the two women staring at him.
“What?” he said defensively. “I have a large, close family in Orlisia. I have been caring for my younger cousins since I was eight. It is customary in our culture for the older children to look after the younger ones.”
“Sorry.” Sophie slumped down, humiliated. “I didn’t expect you to be so much better at it than I am. I’m a girl, for God’s sake.”