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Before I had the chance to respond, the woman came back in, and my eyes found her. Every time I convinced myself I could do this—just help her with the house and walk away—I’d find myself staring into those brown eyes, and I’d waver.
No. Not waver. I’d fucking stumble.
“You ready to go?” she asked, her fingers touching my shoulder.
If we only had a few minutes left of this charade, I wasn’t going to waste it. I reached up, clasping my hand over hers, savoring the feel of it.
“Yeah. You?”
She nodded.
I rose from my seat but kept her hand in mine. She shifted her fingers, intertwining them with mine, like she had that first day on the patio at Billy’s.
“Oh, hey, Macon. I have a few extra vases if you need one,” Molly teased, walking up next to her husband.
I rolled my eyes. “You, too? Seriously?”
“Who do you think told me?” Jake said.
Molly shrugged. “Best gossip I’ve heard all year. Did she really try to slap you?”
“What? No,” Marin exclaimed, an amused expression on her face. “Although I’m sure she wanted to.”
“Who knew Macon was such a romantic?” Jake said, slipping an arm around his wife.
Molly looked up at him, her hand sliding around his waist. “You know, I wouldn’t mind some flowers.”
“Can we break a vase?” he asked, a wicked gleam in his eye.
“And that’s our cue to go,” Dean groaned, tugging on Cora’s hand. “Bye!”
Marin laughed, and we said our farewells also, thanking Molly for the food. Jake and I gave each other a nod, and the women hugged, promising to get together soon.
“Was it as bad as you’d thought it was going to be?” she asked as we walked down the walkway toward my truck. She still hadn’t let go of my hand, and I wasn’t going to relinquish it.
“No,” I admitted, thinking back to my conversation with Jake and Dean. “I think some bridges were mended.”
“Really?” She looked up at me with hope.
“I still think he’s a prick, but I don’t hate him,” I said before adding, “Much.”
She smiled as I begrudgingly let go of her hand, so she could get into the truck. I wondered if it would be the last time I held it.
When I slid in next to her and started the engine, I turned. “Did you have fun?”
She nodded, a bright energy about her. “Yes. Molly and Cora are really nice. It makes me sad that I didn’t get the time to know them—before.”
“How did you end up here?” I asked, knowing she and Daniel had barely just arrived when he died. “I mean, what was the plan?”
“It was my dream,” she explained. “Daniel was just nice enough to support it. But it came at a price.”
“What do you mean?” I put the car in gear and pulled out of the driveway.
“I quit my job?—”
“Seems to be a habit of yours.” I smiled.
She gave me a wry grin. “That time, I had a plan. I was a graphic artist,” she explained. “Still am, or was, until a few weeks ago. But I hate it.”
