They had a late brunch with her mother and her aunts and uncles after they’d all returned from church one Sunday. Mick was immediately taken into the family as if it hadn’t been thirteen years since he’d last been in her mother’s house, eaten her coq au vin, the wonderful French peasant stew recipe that had been passed down from Allie’s long-gone grand-mère, her father’s mother. They sat around the table and drank wine and talked and argued for hours, a ritual that had always been part of her family, from both her mother’s Italian side and her father’s French side—something Allie realized she missed, too, and she vowed to spend more time with them.

In June Mick invited her to his parents’ house for their annual Father’s Day barbeque. They’d been back together for almost six weeks, and she still hadn’t seen any of Mick’s family aside from Neal. She was trying to decide what to wear when her cell phone rang.

“Marie Dawn—just the person I needed to talk to.”

“What’s up, chérie? Everything okay with you and Mick?”

“Everything’s great.”

“Is he there? Or are you at his place?”

“No, I’m at my house, alone. Why?”

“Just making sure that wasn’t girlcode because he was standing right next to you.”

“Things really are great. Better than great. It’s been amazing with us.”

“Then what did you need to talk to me about?” Marie Dawn asked.

“I need my best friend for more than relationship advice, you know.”

“Like what?”

“Like fashion advice.”

“You’re the one who traveled the world and came home with that sense of simple European sophistication, mon amie.”

“I did not,” Allie protested, digging through her dresser drawer while holding her cell phone between her ear and shoulder. “I came back with oven burns and an overwhelming urge to kiss everyone’s cheeks.”

Marie Dawn sighed. “All you do is add one of those tissue-thin scarves to a wifebeater and jeans, and you look like a million dollars. It’s so damn . . . French.”

Allie laughed. “Okay, the scarf trick is French. But what I really need to know is what to wear to this barbeque.”

“It’s a barbeque. Wear your jeans and that scarf.”

“But it’s Father’s Day and I haven’t seen his family for years, other than you guys. Shouldn’t I wear a dress or something?”

“Sure, a sundress, if you want. This is New Orleans, in case you’ve forgotten. It’s going to be almost ninety and humid out there. My only advice would be to put your hair up.”

Allie bit her lip, holding up a dusky pink cotton tank trimmed in lace. “Hmm . . . okay, I’ll do that.”

“So . . .” Marie Dawn started. “How are things with you two . . . you know . . . at the club?”

“We haven’t been going. We’ve just kind of wanted to spend time reconnecting. We both feel the same way about it—like the club would almost be a distraction right now. We just want it to be about the two of us.”

“That sounds really good. I’m happy for you, chérie.”

Allie straightened up, smiling. “So am I.”

“So you’ve put the kinky stuff on hold, then?”

She laughed. “You are so nosy! But no, we haven’t put the kink on hold. We’re just doing our thing at home. Technically. There was that one time in his truck . . . and maybe one time on a bench at Washington Square Park.”

“Allie! You had sex at a park? Where there are kids?”

“It was right after sunset, and the park had emptied out because it started to rain. And we didn’t have sex. He was just sort of . . . holding my hands behind my back and kissing me really hard and pulling my hair and . . . you really don’t want to know any more than that.”

“Oh, but I do. Brother-in-law or not.” She paused for a moment. “You know, I’ve been thinking lately that Neal and I could spice things up a bit. I may need to come to you with some questions.”

“Anytime. Except for at this Father’s Day thing.”

“Oh my God—can you imagine their mother overhearing a conversation like that?”

“Please. She’d die of shock.”

Marie Dawn giggled.

“Promise me you’ll behave,” Allie demanded. “You’ve been part of the Reid family longer than I have.”

“Longer than . . . ? Allie, are you guys planning on getting engaged or something?” Allie heard her take in a breath. “Did you get engaged and not tell me? Are you two going to announce it today?”

“What? No. Of course not.”

“Why ‘of course not’? You just said—”

“It was a slip of the tongue. We’re not there yet, Marie Dawn. We haven’t even been back together for two months yet. We haven’t talked about anything that far in the future. If we had, you know you’d be the first person I called.”

But they sort of had—they’d both used the word forever. Still, now that Marie Dawn had asked, Allie couldn’t help but wonder if either of them truly had a grasp on what forever meant.

Part of her wanted it. That commitment. That promise of enduring love.

No. This is enough.

She and Marie Dawn hung up, agreeing to talk more later, and it came to Allie all at once that she’d been trying to allow it to be enough. But some part of her was left unsatisfied.

She hated to be such a girl. But when had she ever imagined walking down the aisle with anyone but Mick Reid?

She shook her head, slammed the dresser drawer shut. She was being ridiculous. She was happy with things as they were. They were happy. And did she really have any better grasp on forever than Mick did? Wasn’t the idea of that what scared her?

Or maybe it was the idea of something as wonderful as the love they had for each other being taken away. It felt . . . inevitable.

Don’t think about it.

She’d been pushing that thought to the back of her mind ever since they’d talked about love. But she couldn’t help that it came creeping back in sometimes. Like after they’d made love staring into each other’s eyes and it felt like a gift, and she’d have to swallow down her tears.

She’d gotten good at pretending, hadn’t she? Pretending the fear wasn’t always there, hovering. Waiting.

No.

She had to shake it off or the fear was going to ruin everything. It was the one thing she couldn’t talk to Mick about. The one thing she had to keep locked away in a dark corner.

She opened the dresser drawer again and stuffed the tank top back in, going to the closet to distract herself more than anything, maybe. She finally decided on a long cotton-knit sundress in a modern print in shades of orange and brown. She grabbed her favorite flat brown leather sandals she’d bought in Barcelona years earlier, and added a pair of silver hoop earrings after putting her hair up, as Marie Dawn had suggested.

Looking at her reflection in the mirror she told herself not to be silly—his family had always liked her and there wouldn’t be a problem. But the real problem was the nagging voice in the back of her mind that worried about this being one more step in a serious direction.

“What are you even thinking?” she asked her reflection aloud. “You’re with the man you love, who loves you back.”

She was too afraid to assure herself it wouldn’t all disappear at some point, just dissolve like soap bubbles on the wind. Because she loved him. She didn’t dare believe in it too much. It made her so sad—it hurt to the core—if she let herself dwell on that thought.

She squared her shoulders. “So I just won’t.”

But the mirror didn’t lie. She could see for herself the haunted look in her eyes. She’d have to do better before she saw Mick.

*   *   *

MICK HELPED HER out of the truck in front of his parents’ home, a perfectly kept two-story wood-sided colonial built in the 1930s.

“Ready to see everyone?” he asked, holding on to her elbow as they made their way up the front steps.

She turned to smile at him. “I can’t wait.”