Chapter 2

Sabrina Olson descended the stairs, lifting the long skirt of her bridesmaid’s gown with one hand and carefully gripping the handrail with the other. The last thing she wanted was to slip on the rain-slicked steps. She wasn’t used to walking in high heels.

It was raining like there’d be no tomorrow. Molly had told Sabrina that her brother, Michael, and her niece would be waiting for her at the entrance.

“In some cultures, rain on your wedding day is considered good luck—symbolizing fertility and cleansing,” a female voice said.

Sabrina glanced toward the doorway and saw a teenage girl smiling at her tentatively.

“I love fun facts,” Sabrina replied with a grin.

“Hello! You must be Sabrina. I’m Emma, Molly’s niece.”

“That’s me. Nice to meet you, Emma. Molly told me about you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Sabrina.”

“How did you recognize me?”

“My aunt told me to look for the most beautiful bridesmaid.”

“Well, thank you, Emma! You certainly know how to boost someone’s self-esteem.”

Emma smiled.

“My uncle went to fetch the car. He’ll be here any minute.”

“Okay, no rush. He’s very generous to offer a ride to a total stranger.”

Emma laughed. “Uncle Michael’s just grumpy because Aunt Molly made him. He’s okay when he’s not sulking.”

“Molly mentioned you’ve been staying with him?”

“Yeah. I was with Aunt Molly, but she didn’t need me underfoot during all the wedding prep—and they definitely don’t want me tagging along on their honeymoon. My parents died in an accident a year ago.”

A flicker of sadness passed across her face.

“I know, sweetie. Molly told me a little about what happened. I’m truly sorry,” Sabrina said, gently squeezing her arm.

Emma shrugged, trying to seem indifferent. “Thanks. They’re kind of passing me around like a torch in an Olympic relay. I don’t really fit anywhere. I don’t have a home of my own anymore.”

“Molly loves you with all her heart, Emma. And I’m sure your uncle does too.”

“Uncle Michael and Dad were really close. His death crushed him. And then his girlfriend dumped him around the same time. He built up all these walls to keep from getting hurt again.”

Emma spoke with a maturity that struck Sabrina as both impressive and heartbreaking. It was a silent cry for help—one Sabrina recognized all too well. Molly had mentioned a lot about her brother over the past two days.

Emma broke the silence. “You should let me take the front seat.”

“Sure. I used to call shotgun when I was your age,” Sabrina said with a smile.

“No, silly. If you sit in the front, Uncle Michael might think you’re into him.”

“What?” Sabrina exclaimed.

Emma laughed at her shocked expression. “Why do you think Aunt Molly asked Uncle Michael to drive you home? She’s playing matchmaker.”

Sabrina shook her head. She was going to have words with Molly after the honeymoon.

“Listen, Emma, I don’t mind sitting in the back. But I assure you, I have zero intention of dating your uncle—or anyone—for now.”

Emma nodded as if expecting that answer.

“Then sit right behind him—not behind the passenger seat,” she added casually.

“Why?”

“That way, every time he looks in the rearview mirror, he’ll see you.”

Sabrina blinked. This kid was good. Smart—and clearly on a mission.

“There he is,” Emma said, waving to a blue SUV pulling up.

Michael waved back from the driver’s seat. He parked in front of them and opened the doors.

Chuckling, Sabrina slipped an arm around Emma’s shoulders and gently steered her toward the car.

“You can sit in the front if you like,” she offered with amusement, then headed for the back door.

“You’re sure you don’t mind?” Emma asked sweetly, pausing by the passenger seat.

“Not at all,” Sabrina said dryly—and had to bite her lip when Emma grinned mischievously out of Michael’s view.

Sabrina climbed into the back seat behind him.

“Thanks, Sabrina. That’s really sweet of you,” Emma said as she got into the front. “Isn’t she sweet, Uncle?”

Michael answered with a dramatic sigh as he closed his door. He met Sabrina’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Uncle Michael, meet Sabrina.”

Michael’s eyebrows lifted at the name. It was one he’d heard plenty from Molly since the rehearsal.

“Sabrina, he’s my Uncle Michael. He’s okay—even when he acts like Grouchy Smurf.”

“Nice to meet you, Michael,” Sabrina said politely.

“Same,” he grunted from behind the wheel. “You’ll have to give me directions. I’ve got no idea where Middletown is.”

“Take I-80 West, and I’ll guide you from there,” she replied.

He responded with another noncommittal grunt.

They drove in silence for a few blocks.

“This is going to be a very long trip,” Sabrina thought.

She struck up some small talk with Emma, mostly about the wedding.

“Do you speak at all, Michael?” Sabrina eventually asked.

He arched an eyebrow in her direction. “Why bother? You and my niece are doing just fine without me.”

“So—rude, not mute,” she thought. Probably sulking because Molly spilled the beans about her plan.

“Obviously, all those things Molly said about her charming brother were a bit exaggerated.”

“She told you about me?” Michael asked, clearly alarmed.

“He speaks!” Sabrina teased.

“Of course I speak. I just only do it when absolutely necessary.”