Page 53 of Windlass (Seal Cove #3)

Morgan called up to Lilian and Ivy as the rest of them laid dinner out on the table.

Angie pretended to be absorbed in the braided loaf of freshly baked bread steaming in the basket before her, which would have been distracting under most other circumstances as would the steaming mushroom risotto, grilled summer squash, and the number of other dishes on the table.

Angie’s chest tightened with an unfamiliar contentment.

The emotion didn’t have much space to work with, given the other emotions crowding her interstitial spaces.

Stevie was hers. She wanted to release the years of longing with a high scream, long and loud enough to shatter the windows.

A terrifying happiness threatened to overwhelm her, threaded through with excitement for Ivy and Lilian.

She glanced at Stevie again. Happiness emanated from her face, more so than a friend’s engagement might inspire.

A full body radiance lit her from inside, shining from her eyes like a lighthouse, bright enough to obliterate even the smallest shadow.

Angie had wrought this change. She wished she could paint it.

She waited for the prick of unease to steal over her own skin as that light bathed her.

It did, but only in passing, the light, quick step of a harmless insect moving about on its business.

She was afraid, yes, now she had something even greater to lose, but it was fear, not panic.

She could handle fear. Mostly she felt alight.

Lana was wrong. Angie would never grow tired of seeing Stevie like this even if she could also never believe she deserved her.

Taking Stevie’s hand beneath the table was the most natural thing in the world.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the return of the prodigal lovers. Ivy came down the stairs first. If Stevie was a lighthouse, Ivy was a detonated bomb. Angie almost had to shield her eyes from the joy in her smile.

“Hey, slowpokes,” said Stevie.

“Hypocrite,” Stormy coughed.

Stevie’s counter was overridden by Ivy’s explanation. “Stars were gorgeous. We got distracted.”

Lilian followed, silent and stunned, her lips twisted in an irrepressible smile. Angie had never seen her look so helplessly happy. Was this the true meaning of commitment? Not only to promise to stand by someone, but to promise to stand by someone despite one’s own failings?

Unbidden, the thought came to her of Stevie asking her why she often drew in ink. Pencil encouraged too much perfectionism for a first draft she’d told her. Better to draw over the mistakes and let them act as a guide.

She’d thought relationships were different, that she would need to be whole and perfect before she could trust herself with another person’s heart. Maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe the mistakes could lie beside her, indelible but also proof of striving toward something greater.

Or maybe she was being sentimental in the face of too much raw emotion. She hooked her foot around Stevie’s beneath the table and reached for the basket of bread.

Halfway through dinner, following a rousing debate over the merits of mashed versus pureed potatoes, Ivy cleared her throat.

Stevie stilled, and Angie saw Morgan clock Stevie’s suddenly erect posture with curiosity, then suspicion.

When Morgan’s gaze drifted to Angie, Angie smiled sweetly, which further narrowed Morgan’s eyes.

“I wanted to thank you all again for coming out to the island with us.” Ivy raised her wine glass.

“It’s been a real trial,” said Stormy.

“Absolute struggle,” Emilia agreed. “The views are terrible.”

“I’m sensing some sarcasm.” Ivy raised her eyebrows, then continued, her tone sobering. “If you can manage to tough it out, there’s something I’d like to say.”

They assured her that they could tough it out.

“When I first moved here, I thought I was running away from my life. Instead, I found all of you, and you welcomed me far beyond what I deserved. I now know that I wasn’t running away.

I was running to the only person who’s ever really felt like home to me, which scared me so much the first time I realized it that I broke both our hearts. ”

Lilian flushed, but didn’t look away from Ivy’s face. The candlelight painted both of them in warm, flickering hues.

“Okay, this is too much. No one told me I needed to bring tissues to the table,” said Stormy. Emilia passed her a napkin.

“Which is why, when I asked Lilian to spend the rest of her life with me, I wanted to do it in a place that mattered to both of us and with the people who cared about us most.”

Morgan’s expression shifted from suspicion to shock to pure delight as her eyes flicked to Lilian.

Stormy and Emilia both clapped hands to their mouths.

Angie saw this out of her peripheral vision, however, for her eyes were glued to Lilian.

The emotions shining from Lilian’s face were almost violent in their intensity.

The reflection of her own feelings shook her.

Did she look like that when she looked at Stevie?

“Lil?” Ivy held her hand out to Lilian, who took it, the ring on her finger unmistakable. “We wanted you to be the first to know that we’re engaged.”

The exclamations of joy were deafening even when she’d expected them. Stevie stood and darted into the kitchen, returning with a large bottle of champagne and a precarious handful of flutes. Angie held them for Stevie to fill, passing them around to their friends for the toast.

“I said yes,” Lilian added, earning a few laughs. “In case that needed to be stated.”

“Of course, you did.” Angie took her turn hugging her friend. “Of course, you did.”

Stevie hefted the “microphone” in her hand and gave Morgan her best look of horror.

Rather than rent a karaoke set, Ivy had opted for YouTube, which was more than happy to oblige with almost any song Stevie’s diabolical friends could think of.

They’d solved the microphone problem with heavy brass candlesticks, which at least ridiculed the whole thing, not just Stevie.

“Can you choose something that has a chance of being in our vocal range?”

“You two have the vocal range of—and I say this with love—a pair of bullfrogs.” Stormy patted Stevie on the shoulder as she spoke, which did not make it better.

“I resent that remark,” said Stevie.

“Or do you resemble it?” said Angie.

At least Angie had the sleek, contented look of a cat full of the knowledge he’d left a hairball outside your bedroom door and a dead mouse head on the doorstep, and he was still going to get wet food for dinner and a chin scratch.

“Remember who you’d call if your car broke down or you needed a tire change,” said Morgan.

“I can change my own tire, thank you very much,” said Stormy.

“Way to pull the butch card,” said Stevie. “Is that really all you think you’re good for? Tire changing? You’re a doctor .”

“Not a physicist,” Angie said under her breath because she was a nerd.

“In her defense—” Lilian began, but Emilia cut her off.

“There is no defense. Morgan, baby. Stand up straight and sing for me?”

Stevie hadn’t realized Emilia could be so devious.

Morgan, who had been slouching in front of the fireplace as if wishing the bricks might swallow her, grudgingly straightened and pulled at the collar of her blue button-down.

Emilia stood and walked over with a slow saunter that Stevie had to admit did make her look like an absolute snack; she unbuttoned the top two buttons of Morgan’s shirt.

Morgan might have breathed easier if Emilia hadn’t whispered something in her ear that blew Morgan’s pupils and whipped energy into the lean lines of her body.

Stevie snorted with suppressed laughter. Emilia flashed her an innocent smile as she walked back to the couch where the rest of them were gathered around Ivy’s computer, looking for what Stevie could only assume was the most embarrassing music they could think of for her and Morgan to sing.

“‘Oops I Did it Again’ would be a good one” Stevie heard Lilian say.

“Classic,” Emilia agreed.

“What if,” Stevie said loudly, “someone who actually enjoys singing went first to warm things up?”

“You lose croquet, you get no say.” Stormy blew her a kiss.

“Ivy?” Stevie gave Ivy her best puppy eyes.

Ivy glanced at Lilian before her lips curved into a contemplative smile. Stevie relaxed a fraction of an inch. Perhaps there was hope.

“I suppose you’ve earned it,” Ivy said, standing to take the candlestick from Stevie’s hand. “Give me ‘Dancing in the Dark’,” she shot over her shoulder at Stormy.

Because of course she would.

Stevie plopped down next to Angie and breathed a sigh of relief not to be the one standing framed before the fireplace.

Ivy, unlike Stevie and Morgan, didn’t look like a human sacrifice as she readied herself.

The lights Stormy and Lilian had maneuvered to create a spotlight brought out the gold of Ivy’s hair, and she lowered her head, letting the smooth waves fall forward to frame her face.

Stevie gave a catcall. It seemed appropriate.

As Stormy hit play, however, and the ’80s beat filled the room, Stevie amended her perception of Ivy. Ivy was really, really into Springsteen. More so than Stevie had realized. She had the whole foot-tapping, finger-snapping, hip-rocking, shoulder-shaking thing down. And it was hot.

Stevie eyed Lilian, who looked a bit like she’d been slapped and handed a signed blank check.

Adorable.

Ivy could also sing. Stevie nodded along with the beat, a thrill of elation piercing her for no reason other than she was with her friends having fun, sitting next to the woman she loved, and watching one of her best friends get utterly eye-fucked by a Springsteen impersonator. It was glorious.

They burst into applause when the music died out. Ivy bowed and kissed Lilian soundly on the lips before holding up the candlestick, cheeks flushed and eyes bright, her smile outshining the spotlight.

“Who’s up next?”