“Sure you are, honey,” Mabel said. “And I’m the queen of England.”
That earned a laugh from June—and even from me, reluctantly.
“I’ll have the fried catfish,” June said. “And an iced tea, extra lemon.”
Mabel turned to me, pencil hovering. “Let me guess. Same thing you always get—smothered pork chop and cornbread with no butter, because God forbid a Ward brother take pleasure in anything.”
“Make it two butters,” I muttered.
“Oh,” she said, eyes twinkling. “You’re in love.”
“Mabel—”
“I’m goin’, I’m goin’,” she said, already backing away. “Just sayin’, this is startin’ to feel an awful lot like when Rhett brought Willow in here the first time. And we all know how that turned out.”
Then she disappeared into the kitchen, humming something low and off-key.
June looked at me. “Is she always like that?”
“Only when she’s eavesdroppin’.”
“Which is…always?”
“Correct.”
She bit her lip, clearly fighting another laugh, then glanced down at the table. Her fingers were close to mine—closer than they needed to be. My hand twitched, maybe on its own or maybe of my own will…and our knuckles tapped together.
June cleared her throat. “I have to ask again,” she said. “What are we doing?”
This time, I didn’t hedge—didn’t smirk, didn’t flirt.
I just looked her in the eye and lowered my voice.
“I’m sittin’ beside a woman I should’ve paid better attention to at my brother’s wedding,” I said, “and I’m wonderin’ what would’ve happened if I had.”
June’s eyes stayed on mine for a long moment. We’d talked for a long time at that wedding…we’d danced, she’d even gotten a few smiles out of me.
But we hadn’t gotten tothis place.Not to acknowledging the tension that crackled between us.
Not to seeing each other as potential…as lovers.
Then, quietly, she said, “I wasn’t ready then.”
I swallowed hard. “I wasn’t either.”
Another silence passed between us, charged and bright.June reached for her tea and went to pick it up—but paused when I moved my hand to twine my fingers with hers.
“You ready now?” she asked.
I opened my mouth, shut it again. I didn’t know what to say, worried I might say too much—that I might confess to every night I’d sat with a drink in my hand and wondered if she ever thought about me too. That I might admit I’d thought more than once about asking Delilah about her.
That I might say I dreamed of her more than I’d dreamt of Amelia in the past year…and didn’t that just twist me up inside?
So instead, I tightened my fingers around hers.
June didn’t pull away.
The food came a moment later, and we disentangled our hands before Mabel could comment. She definitely noticed anyway, eyes darting pointedly down at the table as she put our plates down.
