*Lauren*
The sand crunched beneath our sandals as Shelby and I talked about how we’d convince my dad to help us build a library.
"Remember," Shelby said, her voice a low hum next to me, "Michael's easily convinced. As long as we make it sound like we have it all figured out, he’ll give in to us."
I nodded and laughed. "You’re so spoiled."
Her own laughter mingled with mine, and she said, “It’s all Michael’s fault. Happy wife, happy life. He usually does what I ask because they’re good ideas. Just like making the resort a wedding destination.”
We reached the front porch, where Dad sat in his weathered rocking chair, absorbing the last rays of daylight. His face creased into a smile when he saw us, but his eyes were questioning, cautious.
"Evening, ladies," he greeted, standing up. "I just got the twins down for the night."
