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I was okay.
We were all okay.
I’d never leave Bree behind.
A few more cleansing breaths, and I was back on the road.
The gravel parking lot at Ari’s was full.
Correction, it was overfilled. There were even cars parallel parked along the main road. I pulled into the gravel lot and then all the way to the patio, parking in a patch of Bermuda grass that was not meant for parking, drawing the attention of the crowd of customers who’d already amassed on the patio.
Unusual. The weekday crowd didn’t typically linger like that.
I reached back and dug around my stacks of boxes until I found an old baseball cap and put it on, masking the state of my post panic-attack hair. I slipped out of the car, and even though it was a safe area, I made sure to lock up before I walked up the ramp of the patio. I offered nods to several customers I recognized along the way until one stepped up in front of me.
“Boy, where did you find her?” Earl, a retiree and one of our regulars, asked.
I glanced around. “Who?”
He smirked. “Don’t you play coy with me, son. She has been cracking us up. And when Billy asked your brother what her name was….” He lowered his voice and looked around conspiratorially. “You know how Billy is, gets flustered around the ladies. Took him weeks to ask your mom’s name, and we all refused to tell him so he could work up the nerve on his own.”
He laughed, and I just stared, having no idea where Earl was going with this.
“Anyway, Billy asked, and you know what Liem said? ‘Vinh’s girl!’” He slapped his knee. “So that’s what we’ve been calling her!”
I moved past Earl and left him to his chortling, entering the dining room to find utter mayhem. I waved at Dad stationed at the counter and turned my cap backward as I scanned the room for Bree. I weaved around customers to head toward the counter and had nearly resigned myself to checking the kitchen next when she appeared.
She was backing out of the saloon doors and into the dining room, both of her arms expertly balancing serving trays. My body buzzed with anticipation—my neck prickling and heart racing—the physiological experience of seeing Bree eerily similar to the feeling of my earlier panic attack. She swung toward the room, and my breath left my lungs entirely as time seemed to stand still. Her hair in two braids, she wore dark jeans and a green V-neck shirt with my apron tied around her waist.
She was here, and she was whole.
I could breathe, but I also couldn’t.
“Vinh’s girl! I hope those are for me!”
She turned toward the customer and breezed over to deliver the food, smiling widely. “They are, indeed, Wilbur. One special crab cake biscuit for your lovely wife and one red link biscuit for you. Let me go deliver these other prizes and I’ll be back to see if you need anything.” They thanked her, and she was off to the next table, her back to me again.
“Hell of a woman, son.”
I tore my gaze from Bree and glanced back to find Dad watching her too, a fond smile on his face before he went back to taking orders.
And I was back to watching my girl.
My gardener.
My woman.
The one who had just spotted me, freezing midstride. “You’re back!”
Her smile was wide as she closed the distance between us. I quickly took the trays from her, which unfortunately kept me from doing more than pulling her into a one-armed hug. But it didn’t matter because she was back in my arms and my nerves were instantly soothed, the vanilla-citrus scent of her hair grounding me better than any mantra ever could. I pulled back, and we looked into each other’s eyes until a double pat on my shoulder broke the moment, and I looked over to see Billy walking out the front door.
I guided Bree to the counter with my hand on her lower back. “What’s going on?” I asked both Dad and Bree. “I’ve never seen it like this.”
They shared a look, and I suddenly felt like I’d missed out on something.
It was Dad who answered. “The best I can tell, son, is that two things happened here this morning. One was that girlfriend here and I are brilliant and crafted the most delicious biscuits on either side of the Mississippi River. So good, in fact, that several regulars posted about them on their Facebook pages yesterday.” He leaned forward, his eyes tired but pleased. “In other words, our biscuits went old-people viral. Ain’t that somethin’?”
I nodded as if it made sense. “And the second?”
