Page 54 of Already Callin’ You Mine

“That can be arranged.”

More pink tinges her cheeks and she looks away, turning to face the And Cheese truck. While she busies herself studying the menu, I study her, trying desperately to figure out what to say.

“Any recommendations?”

“Depends on what you like,” I offer up. “I’m sure Margeaux has waxed poetic about the pimento grilled cheese, and she’s not wrong; it’s good. But I always go for the Cajun mac ’n cheese. It’s got andouille sausage and is spicy, but gooey and just all-around delicious. Margeaux actually makes the best Cajun food I’ve ever had, but she’s a purist and refuses to make a version of this, and I’ve tried, so that’s what I always go with.”

“I love spicy food. It was a toss-up between that and the jalapeño popper grilled cheese.”

“Tell you what,”—I smile, hoping that I’m not misreading the situation—“I’ll get the mac ’n cheese, you get the grilled cheese, and we can do a little swap so you can try both.”

Eyes going wide, Presley rocks back. Yeah, I caught her off guard with that one.

“Ummm, sure. That sounds nice.”

I nod, stepping up to the window and placing our order. Before she can object, I throw in an order of fries, grab us each a water, and pay. Behind me she gasps quietly, as if she’s about to argue with me, but I turn and wink, cutting off any idea of doing so.

“Jace?” she asks, as we step to the side to wait. “What gives?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…do I need to be worried about what’s going to happen next? Like, is this some next-level prank? Is my food going to be poisoned, or is your sister-in-law only being nice to me to get information to be used against me? Because we’re adults now and⁠—”

“Presley, no.” My voice is hard, firm, but not harsh. At least I don’t think it is. I don’t want it to be. “This isn’t Carrie. There’s no pig’s blood.”

She eyes me up and down, trying to get a read on my honesty. I have no idea how I’m going to measure up, because if I were her, I wouldn’t trust me. In her world, I’m the king of the jackasses, a title I have earned over and over again.

“Okay.”

Okay? Okay.

Relief seeps into me, my heart starting to race.

“Sorry, these last few years have left me with some trust issues. And our history doesn’t exactly lend itself to healing those.”

Yup, because I’ve insisted on being petty and childish.

“Did I hear you say something about your ex? Is that Otis’s dad?” I ask, trying to inch the door open. “If I can ask.”

“Sperm donor is more like it,” she comments curtly. “But yes, Cody and I were together for eight years. He was a cop back in Raleigh.”

My name is called and I step away long enough to grab the tray with our food. Nodding back toward the big table where the rest of my family is, we head that way, grabbing the two seats at the end.

“Didn’t end well I take it? Nasty divorce?” I turn the tray so our chosen meals are closer to us, then hand her a fork so she can try mine.

“We weren’t married. Cody was big on the whole I don’t need a piece of paper to prove how I feel thing. Which was fine, since we were committed to each other and had a great life. Then I got pregnant. It wasn’t planned. We’d talked about kids someday, but then someday arrived.”

I nod along, letting her tell the story, not wanting to interrupt. Silently, I gesture for her to take a bite of mac ’n cheese, which she does, her eyes lighting up as she tastes it. Figured she’d like that.

“And you were…excited? Scared?”

“Both.” Presley laughs again and I’m pretty sure I could listen to her do that for the rest of time. “Mostly excited. I’m one of those women who couldn’t wait to be a mom. I mean, you’ve seen the dolls.”

I have. As adorable as I think it is that she still has them, I can’t help but imagine her as a little girl, taking painstaking care of them, playing house with each one.

“But then…” she trails off, taking a big bite of her sandwich.

“Then…”