“What did he say,” Sheridan asked Michael, as he stared, thunderstruck, at the phone he'd just hung up.
She bounded into the formal living room, the only room in the house far enough from the backyard to muffle the childish commotion.
“He's coming, of course,” Michael replied. Then he gulped.
“I'm glad,” Sheridan replied, sinking onto the sofa beside her fiancé and leaning her head on his shoulder. “I'm not surprised; why would one of our best friends refuse to come to our wedding? Why do you look so startled?”
“Um…” Michael bit at the end of his thumbnail, caught himself and tucked the hand behind Sheridan's back. “Um, he met someone, wanted to know if he could bring her.”
“I hope you told him yes,” Sheridan replied, not seeming to grasp the gravity of it.
“Naturally,” Michael said,
