Henry parks next to the silver pickup truck he bought me this past summer. It’s gleaming from a fresh wash. No doubt it was covered in dust only hours ago, but according to Daddy, Jed’s been caring for it like it’s his own. It may as well be. Henry bought it for me when I was living on the farm, to replace the old banged-up one with duct tape holding the bumper on.

I step out of the SUV and inhale the fresh, crisp air. The sun is already setting, providing a picturesque backdrop for the double-story farmhouse that’s over a hundred years old, built by my great-great-grandfather. I’ve called it home for my entire life. It’s the place that’s fostered all my childhood memories, including countless ones with Jed.

And for the first time since February, with Henry by my side, it feels good to be back.

Mama always goes the extra mile in fall, filling bushel baskets with vibrant mums and lining the porch steps with pumpkins from our patch. Stacks of small hay bales throughout the front yard create spots for more flowers and pumpkins. She’s added a few new pieces to the porch this year—a colorful doormat and hurricane lanterns as well as bulky blankets on the swing that are begging for someone to curl up under them.

The windows glow with light, and I can make out Aunt May’s silhouette in one.

“Can you spare a hand?” Henry calls out, rummaging through the trunk of the sleek black Lincoln that was waiting for us when we landed at the private airfield in Pittsburgh.

He hands me a fall floral arrangement, bursting with dahlias in rich hues of orange, burgundy, and gold. “Where did this come from?”

“A florist.”

I give him a flat look as he collects several gift bags.

“I gave Miles a list and he arranged for it.” With his arms loaded, Henry hits the key fob and the trunk closes. “Flowers for your mother, cognac for your father”—he holds up a cylindrical box wrapped in black satin paper and sealed with twine—“and wine for everyone.”

My heart warms. That he even thought to ask Miles is something, especially when he’s neck-deep in running an empire. “That was nice of you.” But I already knew Henry was capable of being thoughtful. I cringe, wishing I didn’t have to warn him. “They don’t drink.”

He smirks. “Something tells me they will tonight.”

“I have never seen a bottle of wine at our dining table in my entire life.”

“Fine. More for us, then.” His polished shoes send loose stones scattering as he follows me toward the front porch, slowing to take in the house with a curious stare.

“What’s wrong?” I know our little country hovel is nothing like he’s used to. Is he wondering how he ended up here, marrying into country folk?

“Nothing. It reminds me of dinners at my grandparents. My grandmother used to decorate their house like this. Of course, I never paid attention to it at the time. I was a dumbass kid. But I just realized how nice it was.” A wistful look skitters across his face. “How much I miss it.”

I smile, relieved. “Well, you can look forward to seeing this every year at this time because fall is Mama’s favorite season.” I add more quietly, “Let’s hope her love for it helps her mood after I tell her to butt out of our wedding.”

His eyes flicker to the window, where Aunt May is still spying on us. “I guess it’s time to do this.” He releases a shaky breath.

Wait a minute. It dawns on me. “Are you nervous?” Incredulity fills my voice.

“I don’t get nervous.” But his jaw tenses.

“You are!” If my hands weren’t full, my palm would be slapped over my mouth. “I don’t believe this. The unflappable Henry Wolf is flapped!” By my family, nonetheless.

“I’ll show you flapped.” He adjusts the bags in his arms long enough to free a hand that he slips under my dress. I know what he’s aiming for.

“Stop it!” I skitter away from his touch with a squeal of laughter.

With a secretive smile, he juts his chin toward the house, silently directing me to go, and then trails behind me.

The second porch step creaks noisily under my weight, as it always does, and a wave of nostalgia hits me. I may not live here anymore, but it’ll always be home.

The scent of oregano and roasted tomatoes hits me the moment we push through the front door. I inhale deeply. “Lasagna?” I haven’t had my aunt’s famed dish in too long.

Aunt May rounds the corner wearing an apron. “You and that nose of yours! I can never surprise you. Come here!”

I set the floral arrangement down on the front table just in time to catch her as she pulls me into her in a tight hug. “Congratulations, sweetheart. I’m so happy for you!”

I sink into her slender yet curvy body, wishing for the thousandth time that Mama was more like her younger sister. “Thank you.”

She turns to Henry. “And you. I know you love my niece, but are you sure you want to join this family?”

“Don’t scare him off,” I scoff.

“If he hasn’t been yet, I think you’re safe,” she throws back in a mock whisper.

Henry offers a charming smile in return. “It’s good to see you again, May.”

“Here, let me help you with some of that.” She sweeps the larger gift bag out of his arms, her eyes flittering over his ensemble, which he let me choose—a casual but delicious sable crewneck and tailored jeans—ever so quickly before winking at me. It reminds me that Aunt May is only four years older than Henry and no more immune to his looks than anyone else.

She’s also the only true ally I have in this house when it comes to Mama. “Listen, before we go in there, I need to talk to you about—”

“There she is, my baby girl!” Mama appears, her hands rubbing at a tea towel. “It’s been too long.”

“A few weeks, at least.” I step into her outstretched arms and she envelops me in a warm, tight embrace. Her hugs are what I remember most growing up. No one can say she doesn’t like to give them. “Is that a new dress?” I know without asking that it is. She’s worn the same outfits for years.

“Got it yesterday.” She smooths the material over her hips. “Nothing fits me anymore.”

After that stunt with the caffeine pills to keep Henry and me apart, Mama and Daddy had a long, serious talk about her health—from the countless cups of coffee she was drinking every day to her poor diet and sedentary habits, to the fact that her mother died of a heart attack at a young age. I don’t know what else he said to her, but since then, she’s put in a real effort, cutting out caffeine, taking daily walks, and cooking healthier. “You look good.”

“I feel good. I can walk all the way to the Enderbeys’ place without needing a break.” She swings her focus to Henry.

I hold my breath.

“How is my favorite future son-in-law?” She charges forward to throw her arms around him.

Henry’s eyebrows twitch as he stoops to return her hug, the only sign that he’s shocked by her pleasant greeting. “Hello, Bernadette.”

“Oh, call me Mama if you want. Would ya look at that.” She scowls at the scab on his forehead, like a mother tending to her little boy’s injury.

“It’s nothing. Just a scratch.” His gaze flickers to me.

My mouth is gaping. Who is this woman?

“Thank the good lord you made it out of there with only that. Roger! They’re here!” Mama hollers.

“I’m aware of that.” I hear Daddy a moment before I see him, hobbling out of the kitchen, his leg still trapped by a walking cast. “I’m a little slower than everyone else, in case you forgot.” His eyes fall on me, and his face splits into a smile that Jed insists is reserved for his daughter and his daughter only.

I dive into his chest, squeezing him tight, inhaling his familiar scent: a mixture of hay and Old Spice, with a hint of tobacco from the occasional cigar.

“What is this?” Mama lifts the floral arrangement to inspect its copper vase.

“Henry picked those out for you.” No need to bring Miles into this conversation. It’s the thought that counts.

She tsks. “Well, we already knew he had impeccable taste, given his choice of future wife. This’ll make a fine centerpiece for our celebratory dinner. Thank you, Henry.” She whisks the flowers away.

I shoot a bewildered look at Henry before whispering to my father, “What have you done with Mama?”

Daddy snickers. “I guess she realized this was a battle she wasn’t gonna win and decided to make the best of things. She’s been like this all week long. Why? Would you prefer the other version?”

“No.” I shake my head in emphasis.

“Didn’t think so.” He limps the few steps to close the distance to Henry and holds out his hand. “Good to see you again.”

“Likewise.” Henry accepts the gesture.

My father’s not a giant, but he’s by no means small—a born-and-bred farmer, several generations in, and strong, with a square jaw and broad shoulders. But the tractor accident took its toll on his physique, softening his muscles and hunching his shoulders. Henry’s only ever seen him when he was in a wheelchair. Now the two men stand face-to-face, shaking hands for a few beats too long, as if taking measure of each other on more even footing.

This must be weird for Henry. He’s only nine years younger than his future father-in-law, who was barely out of high school before he married my mother and they had me.

But I guess it could be equally weird for my father, for the same reason.

The only thing they need to care about, though, is that Henry makes me deliriously happy.

After an awkward pause, they break free.

“A gift for you.” Henry holds up the sleekly wrapped box. “A little something for after dinner. A favorite of mine.”

“That’s mighty kind. You didn’t need to do that, but I look forward to it. Thank you.” He nods, more to himself. “Now, let’s get settled in and say hello to the Enderbeys. They’re excited to see you too.”

“Okay, but before we do that …” Aunt May has been my ally when it comes to Henry, but my father has been getting through to Mama more than anyone lately. I drop my voice to a whisper. “This wedding Mama’s busy planning for us? It’s not what we want, and it has to stop.”

His lips purse. “I warned her she was gettin’ ahead of herself, but she wouldn’t listen.”

“We’re getting married in Wolf Cove, Daddy. Where I worked this summer.”

“That’s … not Pennsylvania.”

“I know, but I need you on my side for this.”

He makes a strangled sound. “Can ya at least wait until after we’ve had a nice meal to break the news to her?”

“I’ll try,” I promise. “You know how she can get though.”

He holds up the black box Henry gave him. “Sounds like I’m gonna need this sooner rather than later.”

* * *

Jed peers at the label. “Sang-ee-o-vees?”

“Sangiovese.” The grape name rolls off Henry’s tongue and, while I’ve never heard it before, I am one hundred percent sure he’s pronouncing it correctly. “From Montepulciano, a medieval town in Tuscany.”

“Can you get it at Walmart?”

Henry falters on his answer, likely biting back the one he wants to give. He’s on his best behavior tonight, even with my ex-fiancé. Still, his smile is smug when he explains with forced patience, “No, it’s a reserve from one of my favorite wineries in Italy. My sommelier at our Pittsburgh Wolf location imports it for me.” I can hear the unspoken “You idiot” in his tone.

“Seems like a whole lot of effort for foreign red wine when we have plenty here in America.” Jed snorts.

“And yet you’re enjoying it,” Henry fires back.

Jed certainly is. Thank goodness Henry brought several bottles.

With a small grunt, Jed refills his glass for a second time to near brimming before setting the bottle down.

The softest sigh escapes Henry—too soft for anyone but me to hear—and then he lifts the bottle. “More wine for you, Laura?”

Jed’s pretty blond girlfriend’s cheeks ignite with a furious blush. I’ve caught her staring unabashedly at Henry at least a dozen times since we sat down, and each time she notices me watching her, she ducks her head and reaches for Jed’s hand. “Yes, please. Thank you.”

Henry refills her glass, then tops up mine without asking. “Celeste?”

“Thank you, but I will pass,” Celeste declines softly. She accepted a “splash” for a toast. It’s more than I’ve ever seen her drink.

Henry goes around the table. “Bernadette?”

“Oh, maybe just a smidge.” Mama holds up her glass, her cheeks rosy. “Don’t judge me too harshly, Reverend. This is a special occasion, after all.”

“I would have to be a pot calling a kettle black, now, wouldn’t I.” Reverend Enderbey takes a sip of his wine.

Aliens must have landed in Greenbank, Pennsylvania, recently and possessed bodies because Henry was right—everyone accepted wine with dinner.

Henry stands to refresh Mama’s glass before setting the bottle down and retaking his seat.

Jed glowers, processing the lesson in gentlemanly manners Henry just gave him without saying a word.

Beneath the table, I smooth a hand over my man’s muscular thigh. “By the way, if anyone gets a call from a reporter about me or the wedding or Henry, please tell them ‘No comment.’” I shoot a warning look Jed’s way. He’s already promised that he hasn’t said anything and he won’t.

“Have they been bothering you?” Daddy asks.

“A little. Nothing I can’t handle.” I force a smile. Henry had his people check, and no one by the name of Luca works as a reporter at the Tribune, which is both a good and bad thing. He can’t be with a reputable news source if he misidentified himself.

Autumn set alerts on her phone for anything to do with Henry—which is both endearing and creepy—and nothing has appeared online yet.

“Before I forget, Abigail!” Mama helps herself to another heap of Caesar salad. “I convinced Chester Fry to lend us his carriage.”

“You mean that dilapidated wagon heuses to get around?” Chester Fry is Amish. That’s his only mode of transportation. What on earth does Mama need with Chester Fry’s wagon?

“It ain’t dilapidated. It catches everyone’s notice when he’s out and about.”

“That’s because they’re afraid the wheels will fall off.”

“It’s gonna happen any day now,” Jed agrees.

Mama chortles. “It only sounds like that, but it’s good and sturdy, promise. Big enough to fit you and the girls in it.”

Me and the girls. It dawns on me. She means for the wedding. I should have known that was what this was about.

“Oh! And you need to give Angela a call so she knows what she can get started on planning for you. She’s who you want for your maid of honor. Good head on her shoulders. Joy and Diana are sweet and they sure are pretty, but they couldn’t organize a lemonade stand if they were given step-by-step instructions.”

My fist clenches around my fork. Now she’s telling me who my maid of honor will be?

“May, what kind of cheese is in the lasagna?” Henry asks, rubbing my forearm.

“Oh, do you like it? I make the ricotta myself. I find it much creamier than anything I can find from a supplier. Every time I serve this dish at the restaurant, it sells out, so I must be on to something.” She grins. “I know this isn’t the same caliber as those meals your Michelin Star chefs make you, but folks around here seem to like it.”

“No, you’re right, it’s not.” Henry winks. “It’s better.”

The key to Aunt May’s heart is complimenting her cooking, and Henry seems to have figured that out. She beams. “You’ll have to come into the Pearl to try my cheesecake, then. I use the same ricotta.”

“You would not have to twist my arm. That is a favorite of mine.”

“It is?” I rack my brain thinking back on meals we’ve had together. Has Henry ever ordered dessert? “How did I not know that?” Is he telling the truth or is it part of a game to win May over?

“Because you’ve only been together for two minutes,” Jed mutters under his breath.

I frown. Jed and I have been on much better terms over the last few months. I’ve even started considering him a friend. But he seems gloomy tonight. If I didn’t know better, I’d say news of my engagement might be too big a pill for him to swallow.

I dismiss his sulking and focus on Henry. “So if our wedding cake is made of cheese, you’ll eat it?”

“Oh, I’ll definitely eat it,” he teases, with a wicked glint in his eye that tells me he’s not talking about wedding cake.

I give his ankle a playful kick as my face flushes. “Good, I’ll tell Jill.” I spent two hours on the phone with Wolf Hotel’s event planner yesterday. It was overwhelming, to say the least, and I think she sensed it because she gave me an easy and fun homework assignment—set up a Pinterest board with wedding ideas.

“Who’s Jill?” Mama asks.

Here we go. “Our wedding planner.”

“You don’t need one of those pretentious fussy bodies,” she scoffs, waving me off. “They cost a fortune and all she’ll do is take over your wedding.”

“Imagine that,” I force out through clenched teeth.

Daddy clears his throat, and Henry presses his lips together to smother his smile.

“No need, anyway. I’ve already got Peggy Sue’s niece lined up to make the cake—”

“Let’s leave all that wedding business for after dinner,” my father cuts in, his uneasy gaze on me as I silently fume.

But, as usual, Mama’s not listening to anyone but herself. “She’s making you a fruitcake. A good, traditional choice.”

“I hate fruitcake!” I snap, tossing my fork down. It lands with a clatter. “Peggy Sue’s niece is not making our wedding cake.” I can’t take another minute of this. It has to end now. “Angela, Joy, and Diana are not my bridesmaids. And I am not riding to my wedding in a wagon driven by the Amish man who lives down the road!” I may as well lay it all out on the table. “We’re not getting married in Greenbank, Mama.”

Silence hangs like a heavy curtain around the dining table as anxious glances flitter toward Bernadette, waiting for her reaction.

Her face is a mask of shock, as if my words have slapped her across the cheek without warning. As if she couldn’t foresee this. “What do you mean, you’re not getting married in Greenbank? Of course you are. You’re a Mitchell. This is your home. Your family is here, your congregation is here!”

Her congregation, that I’ve been indoctrinated into from birth, not by choice. I haven’t been to church once since I left Greenbank. “We’re getting married in Alaska,” I say calmly. I don’t care if we’re married in a church or a reception hall or in a damn field, but I leave that part out for now.

“No way,” Jed blurts, his expression filling with excitement. “We’re invited, right?”

“Unfortunately,” Henry says before gulping back a mouthful of wine.

“Roger!” Mama glares at my father. “Talk some sense into the girl!”

Daddy sighs with resignation and pours himself more wine. “Abbi’s got plenty of sense.”

A wildness flickers in her eyes as they dart around the table, searching for allies, realizing she has none. At least, not ones who will step in to involve themselves so blatantly.

“I’ll start the coffee pot.” Celeste is on her feet quickly to collect empty plates.

“I’ll help.” Laura scurries behind her.

I take deep breaths to try to calm myself. The last thing I wanted was for tonight to turn into another major blowup. We already had one of those this summer and we barely survived it. “Mama, I am thrilled that you seem to have accepted Henry as my future husband.” Seem to being the operative words. “Truly, I am. But this is my wedding. Our wedding.” I collect Henry’s hand in mine. “And it’s going to be what we want.”

“What you want? Or what he wants?” She spits out with that familiar venom from the past. I knew her bitterness still had to be lingering beneath this facade. There was no way it could have evaporated. How long before he’s demoted to “that man” again?

I dare glance at Henry.

His expression is peaceful, unruffled. “If it were up to me, Abbi and I would have married at city hall the day we landed back in New York.”

Mama gasps, her fearful eyes flittering to Reverend Enderbey as if merely suggesting such an idea has earned our family a one-way ticket to the fiery pits of hell. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, believe me, I would.” A grin stretches across Henry’s face. The bastard finds this amusing. He isn’t the least bit fazed by Mama’s antics. “But that’s not what Abbi wants, and I will give her whatever she wants as long as in the end, she’s my wife.”

Mama worries her bottom lip. She’s beginning to see she won’t win this. “Fine.” She throws her napkin onto the table and eases her sturdy body out of her chair. “Seeing as you don’t care if your family is a part of your wedding day—”

“I never said that,” I cry.

“—then you’ll be happy getting married without your father and me there, Abigail.”

My stomach drops in despair at the thought of their absence. “Mama …”

But she’s already storming out of the dining room. Moments later, the kitchen door swings open and shuts with a clatter.

My shoulders drop as tears of anger and frustration prick my eyes.

Henry rubs the back of my neck but remains quiet.

“Give her time.” Daddy carves another chunk of his lasagna.

“You think that’ll make a difference?” She didn’t even try to hide her anger from Reverend Enderbey, which means I miscalculated her need to be on her best behavior for an audience. Clearly, I’ve caught her off guard. Is she stubborn enough to follow through with this threat, though?

“Yes,” Aunt May jumps in. “Bern has a big heart, but she’s also used to getting her way. She used to do this sort of thing to me, too, until she learned better. I think this is good for her, to see you all grown up and making your own decisions, even if she doesn’t approve of them. It’ll make things easier for you down the road.”

“Bernadette can be a tad set in her ways.” Reverend Enderbey frowns. “Sometimes she needs to ease herself into new ideas, and there have been a lot of new ideas in her life lately.” He glances at Henry, making his point clear. “Like Roger said, just give her time to digest.”

And give the reverend time to talk her off this hill she sounds determined to die on, he doesn’t say.

I sink into my chair, dejected. “I never thought you guys wouldn’t come.”

“I will be there no matter what, don’t you worry about that,” Daddy promises.

Aunt May reaches over to pat my forearm. “So will I.”

That brings me some comfort, at least.

“Reverend, I know Bernadette asked you to officiate.” Henry smiles at the kindly man. “Would you still be willing to do that in Alaska?”

Reverend Enderbey opens his mouth but falters, his gaze flittering to me, then to his son. Is it weird for him to marry Henry and me after Jed and I were assumed destined for a life together? Because, honestly, this may be a bit fucked up.

“I’m sure Bernadette would appreciate your role in this,” Henry adds. “It would go a long way in helping everyone move forward.” That last part must be directed at Jed.

Smooth one, Henry. It’s an olive branch for Mama, having the reverend there, a way to get something she wants. Maybe it’ll help sway her.

“Celeste and I have always wanted to see that part of the country,” Reverend Enderbey admits.

“Then here’s your chance. Your transportation and accommodations will be covered, of course.”

“How do you say no to that, James?” my father murmurs. It’s so rare that I hear anyone use Reverend Enderbey’s first name. It’s a reminder that, beyond the church and my relationship with Jed, our families have been good friends and neighbors for decades.

“I don’t think he can, so that settles it. We’d be pleased to have you officiate.” Henry reaches for my hand, squeezing it.

The reverend nods, more to himself. “I would be honored to be a part of your day, so thank you.”

“Can I get in on that plane too?” Jed, who’s been unusually quiet this whole time, asks around a mouthful of lasagna.