My daughter had been home for less than an hour when my husband looked at her fiancé’s arm and went completely pale.
Until that moment, I thought the engagement was going to be the biggest surprise of the evening.
I was wrong.
Alice had spent almost three months in London. When she texted that she was finally coming home for dinner and bringing “someone important,” I assumed she meant a boyfriend
I cleaned the house.
Changed the tablecloth.
Made Alice’s favorite roast potatoes.
I even bought the expensive wine Patrick always complained was unnecessary.
What I wasn’t prepared for was the man standing beside my daughter when I opened the front door.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a dark beard, heavy boots, tattoos disappearing beneath his sleeves, and a black biker jacket.
