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I tug the mug out of Adam’s hold and hand it off to her. “Here you go, it’s still warm. Sorry for the delay, your son and I are fighting.”
Adam snorts behind me.
Diane’s brows rise and her smile stretches across her face. “Do you guys want me to leave so you can keep going?”
A moment ago, I would have loved nothing more. Now? I think she should stay for dinner.
I hook my elbow through hers and lead her out to where everyone’s sitting in the living room. “Nonsense, we have all day to fight. Right now, I’d like another donut.”CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHTADAMMadeleine is avoiding me; she has been all afternoon. We’re all sitting in my living room, and she’s positioned herself in a chair across from me. She won’t meet my eyes, won’t look my way, won’t address me when I talk to her. I’m about to call her out for it in front of everyone.
“So then I pulled up and saw Madeleine’s car stuck in the mud and I figured she was in there, probably hysterical from being alone overnight…”
Carter is retelling the story of Madeleine’s rescue for the hundredth time. My mother is enthralled. Madeleine is staring out through the French doors, watching Molly and Mouse play.
“Why did Olivia leave Molly here in Texas?” she asks, interrupting Carter’s story. Thank God.
It’s a good question, and one I hadn’t thought to ask yet.
My mom shrugs. “I think she’d been holding her for a kind of ransom, or bait. When it became clear that she wasn’t going to get Adam back, I guess Molly became worthless to her. Which is good, because Adam always loved that dog.”
Madeleine’s face contorts in confusion, probably because she can’t imagine doing something so vicious to another human being.
“You’re going to keep her, right?” Madeleine asks me.
“Of course.”
There’s no question. Molly is my dog, and I’m happy to have her back. The fact that she and Mouse get along so well is an added bonus.
“Good.” She nods. “We’ll have to set up regular playdates for them.”
Everyone in the room goes silent because of what her statement implies: if we’re dating, Mouse will be around Molly all the time; if we aren’t, we’ll have to schedule times for them to play.
Daisy gets to her feet. “Y’know, I think it’s time to head out. Carter, could you walk us to our car?”
He seems confused. “It’s just right down the driveway—”
“Carter, in this uncertain world, we would really feel better with a police escort,” she bites out, nudging her head toward the front door. He finally picks up on her not-so-subtle hints and jumps to his feet. His fellow officer joins him, and then my mom starts to trail out after them.
Madeleine has the audacity to put her shoes on, like she’s leaving as well. I thank everyone for helping with the search and promise to have them over again soon, and then as Madeleine tries to slink through the door, I hold my foot out and block her.
She nearly trips, but I take hold of her arm before she goes tumbling down.
“Excuse me,” she says, calm and resolute.
“Enough. They’re gone and it’s time we talk.”
She crosses her arms, holds her head high, and shrugs. “Fine.”
We head back into the living room and I take a seat on the couch. Madeleine sits across from me, her legs crossed, her gaze right on me. I think I see a smile waiting to be unveiled, but I don’t push it.
“You look cute in my shirt,” I say, smirking.
She nibbles on her bottom lip, trying, trying to restrain that smile. “Obviously.”
“Olivia is gone.”
“So you’ve said.”
“She and I are done.”
“Did she come down here for closure like you assumed?”
“No. She came to Texas with plans to reignite our relationship, but that didn’t happen.”
She looks down at her nails, feigning indifference. “Oh? Well that’s sad about you and Olivia. But that does nothing to explain what’s going on between us.”
“Well I’m so glad you bring that up. Because I want you to know I’m seeing someone.”
A smile breeches her fortress, but I blink and it’s gone.
“Huh. She must be pretty great if you walked away from the effervescent Olivia for her.”
“She’s…”
I glance away, trying to come up with an adjective to describe Madeleine, but nothing stacks up. Funny, amazing, great—they’re weak. I’ve used those words to describe women in the past, and Madeleine isn’t like any of them. She’s in a league of her own.
I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. Madeleine is rounding the coffee table and stalking toward me. She has on a pair of my athletic shorts and a t-shirt, both of which hang off of her.
“Extraordinary,” she says, bending low and setting one of her knees down beside my hip. The other follows and then she’s straddling me on the couch. I lean back against the cushions and stare up at her, tugging the loose strands of her brown hair away from her face. Her freckles are sprinkled across the bridge of her nose, and her eyes shine with mischievous intent.
