“Good to know,” she whispers.
A truck roars past, shaking the ground beneath us, reminding me that real life still exists.
“We should get going.”
“Yeah . . .”
We don’t talk on the drive home. Alan Jackson fills the silence and we pretend the air between us isn’t charged.
But my mouth tingles the whole way.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Madison
55 DAYS UNTIL I FAIL . . .
JOSIE: Hey! Haven’t heard from you in a while. Want to FaceTime and catch up soon?
“You want these in the kitchen?”
I look up from the surprising text to see my brother walk into James’s house, a bag in each hand—both full of pies. Amelia follows with takeout from the Diner.
“Yep, kitchen’s good.” I shut the door behind them and glance at the message again.
Josie? Why would she text me?
We’d shared a few polite lunches, but we weren’t close. Okay, maybe she’d invited me out once or twice, but only after I overheard her making plans with other friends. They were pity invites.
I never went because I was filling my rare free time with Caden—investing in something that turned out to be a one-way street.
But this? This text feels intentional.Why?
Yeah! Let’s do it!I respond, knowing it’ll probably never happen, and then pocket my phone while joining Noah and Amelia in the kitchen.James’s kitchen.
It’s been a week since our delivery day, and I haven’t stopped thinking.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but I’d been completely blocked because I was trying to create the kind of restaurant the New York chefs I used to work for would have approved of. Something sleek. Cool. Pretentious.
Something that wasn’t me.
But then I met Della. And it all clicked into place.
I don’t want to reinvent my roots. I want to honor them.
This restaurant will celebrate Southern food,my specialty.It’ll be simple and heartfelt, and every bite will taste like a memory.
That night, I scribbled ideas like jalapeño skillet cornbread, watermelon beet salad, and three different crust options for fried catfish. Then I sent it all to Tommy.
He called within minutes. He loved it, offered a few ideas of his own, and we brainstormed how to market the whole theme. We talked for two hours. And before we hung up, he asked if I was ready to take him up on that date yet. I saidneverand he replied,maybe next week.
So anyway, this is why I’m gathering my family here tonight. They’re going to help me make a few decisions.
“Where’s James?” asks Noah as he unloads the pies onto the counter and then swiftly turns to free up Amelia’s arms.
“Still on the farm. I told you he’s been working really intense hours lately.”Even though he’s supposed to be prioritizing rest.
Noah glances at the clock, brows furrowed, then goes back to what he was doing. Classic Noah. Full of thoughts and unwilling to share a single one of them.
