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“How you go from sad to snoopy, to fucking happy, then back to sad but still snoopy is fucking trippy,” King chuckled.
“Then throwing Marley under the bus for her cooking,” I agree. “That’s an art form right there.”
Meg rolled her eyes. “I did not throw her under the bus. The woman cannot cook, end of the story.” She bumped the fridge closed with her hip and set the milk on the counter. “And you are not going to distract me away from Lennox.”
“I think you were the one who distracted us from Lennox,” King muttered.
I had known Meg all my life. She was my Mama Meg, and I knew she was not going to let it go without me telling her the deal with Lennox. Or she would for now, but she wouldn’t leave it alone for long.
“I can’t help it that you can’t seem to keep up with me,” Meg muttered. She grabbed two bowls from the cabinet and turned back to the fridge. “Now, who is Lennox?”
“She’s my cellie’s sister.”
“You just sounded like my shows I watch,” she laughed. “Cellie is his cellmate,” she told King.
“I know, babe,” he drawled. “I’m not an idiot.”
“So, did your cellie’s sister come to visit him, and you saw her?” Meg asked. “I love saying cellie, by the way.”
“Why don’t you just let him tell the story instead of guessing what happened?” King suggested.
Meg rolled her eyes and grabbed two dozen eggs. “Because what is the fun in that?” she asked. “My mind is racing with all the ways Jonas could have met Lennox.”
“Uh, it’s really not that interesting,” I laughed. “Lennox was writing to her brother all the time, and he’s not much into writing letters.”
“So she started writing to you,” Meg guessed.
King threw his hand up in the air. “Would you just let the kid tell his own story?”
“Shush,” Meg ordered. “He is telling the story. I just know what he is going to say.”
“Uh, yeah. She started writing to me, and that’s how it’s been for almost three years.”
“Three years?” Meg gasped. “Holy cow! That is a long time to write letters back and forth. I don’t know if I could be that committed to writing letters for that long. I mean, what would I say?”
“I don’t think you have ever had the problem of trying to figure out what to say,” King laughed. “I think sometimes you should try to say a little less.”
Meg flipped off King. “You knew what you were marrying all those years ago, Logan. Now you have to live with it.”
“Thankfully, you got a nice ass,” King whispered.
“Sass and ass,” she smiled. “I’ve got both for days.” Meg started cracking eggs in the bowl. “So when are we going to meet her?”
“Uh, probably after I do,” I laughed.
Meg gasped. “You’ve never met her? She didn’t come for visits?”
I shook my head. “It never really worked out. She’s always working and couldn’t get away.”
“But you talked on the phone all the time,” Meg guessed.
I shook my head. “Uh, not really. Maybe three times, and that was before she started writing to me. She always said she liked writing letters, and I was good with it. It was nice to have her words in front of me instead of trying to remember what we would have said on the phone.”
“If she couldn’t get off of work long enough to come to visit you, then how is she going to come here now?”
“I’m going to her. I’m not on parole or anything. I am a free man to go wherever I want.” I sipped my coffee and smiled. “And where I am going is Iowa.”
Meg laughed and shook her head. “It would have been better if she lived in Hawaii or somewhere I can take a vacation. I would have gone with you if she did. Iowa has cows and corn. We have that here.”
