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“Bye, Rhett.”
I hang up the phone and smile. This time last year if you would’ve told me I’d be having dinner with Rhett and his family, I would’ve called you crazy. And if you would’ve told me that I would be back in Rhett’s bed, my eyes would’ve bugged out of my head. But, here I am, happier than I’ve been in a long time.
My gaze drifts across the room toward Ruby. She’s still curled up on her bed and it isn’t lost on me that she’s watched me go full circle. She watched me fall in love and subsequently break my own heart, and now she’s here to witness me get it put back together.
If dogs could talk, Ruby would have a million things to say.
Rhett
“She’s here.” Mom flings the dishrag over her shoulder and makes a beeline for the door. My hand on her arm stops her.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“To get that wonderful girl.”
My mom has been so excited since I told her Mo and Phil were coming for dinner. She’s spent the last few days stewing over what to make and finally settled on chicken and dumplings—Mo’s favorite.
“Slow down,” I laugh. “You’re going to scare her away.”
Mom palms the side of my cheek, her eyes going all misty. “I’m so happy. You haven’t stopped smiling since you got here, and you know how much I love Monroe.”
“Yes, I know,” I say, gently pulling her hand from my face.
“Can I go now?” she asks, a sparkle of hope in her eye.
“Fine.” I sigh. “Go.”
“I haven’t seen your mom move that fast since she walked down the aisle,” Dad says, stepping up beside me as we watch Mom barrel through the front door to greet Mo and Phil.
I look at Dad. “She walked fast down the aisle? Don’t most women go slow?”
He shrugs. “Your mom isn’t most women. And according to her, I was a flight risk.”
No way. My dad is the most stable, loyal person I know. “You were a flight risk?”
He nods and pats my back. “Yup, and so are you. Your mom says it’s in our blood. We chase the bull, and in your case, the buckle. Lucky for you, you’ve got a good head on your shoulders, and you know a good thing when you find it—you get that from me.” He smiles proudly.
“I’m not a flight risk.”
“I know you’re not, but she doesn’t know that,” he says, nodding toward Mo. “It’s never about what we think; it’s always about them—what they’re thinking, what they want. It’ll do you good to remember that. Your mom was worried about everything under the sun: how we would make it work, what would happen when I went on tour—the women, the temptation, everything. And all I could think about was her barefoot and pregnant in a home I built just for her.”
I step to the side and watch Mo help her dad out of the car. Mom holds the wheelchair in place, and when Phil is seated, she wraps Mo in a hug.
“I’m not following.”
Dad laughs. “It’ll make sense one of these days when you know you’ve found the one. She’ll be coming up with a million reasons why you can’t work, or she’ll worry about losing you to some buckle bunny, and all you’ll worry about is finding a way to make her yours before she realizes she can do so much better.”
I shoot Dad a look.
“Hypothetically speaking, of course, because no one is better than my son.”
“Damn right,” I say, turning my gaze back to Mo.
Dad’s words filter through my head as I watch from the porch. Mo’s dark hair hangs over her shoulders in loose waves. She’s wearing a pair of jeans, a pink blouse, and cowboy boots. When she looks up, her eyes catch mine, and for this one moment in time, everything seems right in the world. My heart slams inside my chest as though it’s trying to throw itself at her, and I have no choice but to follow its lead.
“You might be closer than you think,” Dad mumbles as I step off the porch.
Mo watches me walk across the yard. The closer I get, the bigger her smile grows, and when I’m close enough, I reach for her hand. I tug gently, pulling her against me to kiss her cheek.
