Chapter Twelve
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Luc
Everyone has someone who’s their favoritewhat-if.
Magnolia May Carter is mine.
What if I’d made my move earlier? What if I’d told Cash to go take a flying leap the day he sat down at our booth in the diner? What if I revealed to Maggie, here and now, how I’ve always felt?
I’m dreaming about this last scenario when the buzz of my cell phone jolts me awake.
I immediately feel the effects of a night spent vertical on one of Cash’s folding chairs. My neck has a crick from sleeping with my chin on my chest. My knees ache from having my feet propped on the other chair. And damned if my right butt cheek isn’t asleep.
Groggily, I sit up as the dream vanishes like bayou fog hit by the sun. Casting a quick glance toward the mattress, I experience a slice of panic when I see Cash isn’t there. Then another buzz from my phone distracts me.
Pulling the device from my jacket, I glance at the screen. A text is waiting.
Maggie: The beer guy is late. Figured I’d see how y’all are doing. Everything OK?
It’s zero eight twenty. Damn. I’m usually up with the sun. Last night must’ve worn me slap out.
“Cash!” I yell. “Where the hell are you, man?”
“Right here.” He appears in the door leading to the hallway. He’s freshly showered, wearing clean clothes, and looking a far sight better than I feel. Which is aggravating enough to make a preacher cuss.
When he uncaps his flask and takes a quick drink, my irritation increases tenfold. “Really, Barney Gumble?”
“Starting off the day on the right foot.” He salutes me with his flask before shoving it into his back pocket.
I text Maggie.
Me: Cash is fine. Already up and at ’em. Regret spending the night in his folding chair.
Maggie: So glad you did. Helped me sleep knowing you were there. BTW, was thinking we shouldn’t tell him we want to go with him to VA. Better to spring it on him right B4 his next appointment.
Me: Way ahead of you.
Maggie: Figured. Oh, and hey! Y’all want to meet me @ Mr. B’s for bbq shrimp @ 7?
I look up from my phone. Cash is still standing in the doorway watching me. “Who’re you texting?” he asks.
“Maggie.”
One of his eyebrows quirks. “She pissed at me for fucking up the second line?”
“She should be, but she’s not. She wants to know if we wanna meet her for dinner tonight.”
“No can do.” He shakes his head. “Got an electrician coming to check the wiring in the bathroom. Hoping he can tell me why that light keeps flickering.”
“That’s late for an electrician, doncha think?”
“Was either that or wait till next week, and I don’t want a short to cause the whole house to burn down before then. Don’t let me stop you, though. Go have dinner with her.”
“Ishould,” I tell him crankily. “But I promised I’d help with this place, and that includes waiting on electricians.”
“Yuck.” He wipes at his shirt like it’s covered in crumbs. “All that loyalty and niceness… Sometimes it’s impossible not to get some of it on me.”
