Oh, for the love of living. I know his mission is to finagle his way back into her life, but there’s something to be said for subtlety. Alas, he’s never developed the skill of beating around the bush. Quite the opposite. He likes to yank the bushes out of the ground, shake them like a maniac, and see what falls out.
Like I knew they would, Maggie’s hackles go up. She sticks her tongue in her cheek. “I’m pretty sure that’s none of your business, Cash Armstrong.” Looking down at her watch, she adds, “Oh, son of a biscuit! Speaking of business, I’m late!”
She stands, and Yard lifts his head to look at her reverently. “I hate to be rude and shoo y’all out before offering refreshments. And I’d like nothing better than to spend the next…” She makes a face. “How long do you think it’ll take us to catch up? Three hours? Threeyears?” She shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter. Right now, I have to get to the bar.”
“Mom told me you bought that old place on the corner of Chartres and Conti.” I stand as well. Sheldon does figure eights around my legs. “I can’t believe you actually did it, Maggie May. You made our dream come true.”
For a moment, silence reigns inside her apartment.
“We always said we would,” she manages as a lone tear slips from the corner of her eye and rolls down her cheek. My heart drops with it to the rug. But then she’s racing around the coffee table and gathering me and Cash close. Squeezing us, she says wetly, “I’m so mad at y’all for leaving me and never calling or emailing or Skyping or even writing a danged letter. But in the same breath, I’m so happy to see you again. Welcome home, boys.”
Closing my eyes, I bend my head and breathe in the smell of her hair. It reminds me of a dance under the silver moon with accordion music hanging in the air and a zydeco band singing songs about the bayou.
