“Of courseI have, you butthead!”
I might’ve pumped a victorious fist if not for that wholebuttheadthing. Not to mention, her words were snarled between her clenched teeth.
“Which is whyI’mmad atyounow,” she adds, turning onto her street. I can see the giant ferns on her balcony, dripping their long, lacy fronds over the edge. “You’re making this so much harder than it has to be.”
“No one ever said life and love are easy, Maggie May. They only ever say they’re worth it.”
“Oh, spare me your existential bullcrap.” She stomps up to the wrought-iron gate leading to her courtyard and is through it before I can think of a comeback.
Just as well, I reckon. I was about two seconds away from kissing her.
And damn my ultimatum.
Chapter Seventy-nine
______________________________________
Maggie
You don’t need water to feel like you’re drowning.
Ever since our dinner at Muriel’s Jackson Square last week, that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. Drowning in confusion over my feelings for Cash and Luc. Drowning in regret over being mad at Luc when, the truth is, after what happened when we were kids, Iunderstandwhy he now feels like he has to ask me to choose. And drowning in the fear and loneliness his absence has left behind.
He asked if I’ve missed him?
Lord, I’ve missed him so much I can barely stand myself.
Heartache is such a strange feeling. An odd combination of longing and remorse.
“Heavens, girl.” Auntie June cuts into my thoughts. “The face you’re wearing would turn sweet milk into clabber. What’s going on inside your head?”
With Carnival season coming up soon, we’ve spent the morning in Aunt Bea’s kitchen making king cakes. It’s our yearly tradition to get them ready early and then freeze them until they’re needed. Once the festivities start, there’s no time for baking.
I clench my teeth around the story bubbling inside me. She doesn’t need to be burdened with my woes. And honestly? I’m a little ashamed of myself for feeling overwhelmed by the situation.
She and Aunt Bea didn’t raise me to be a withering wallflower who sits in the corner and waits to see how things shake out. They raised me to throw back my shoulders, make a decision, and then live with the consequences. Paralyzing fear isn’t something either of them has ever shown much sympathy for.
But like an unsupported levee, I can’t keep the words in. They come gushing out of me. By the time we’ve put the cakes in the oven, set the egg timer, and taken ourselves out to the front porch swing to enjoy some sweet sun tea, I’ve unloaded the entire kit and caboodle onto her aged shoulders.
Chancing a peek at her face after I’m finished, I grimace. “Do you think I’m a coward for wanting to stop things with Luc before they start?”
“Depends, I suppose,” she answers in that straightforward way of hers that always makes me glad to have her in my life. “Are you really doing it because you’re concerned about how Cash will take the news in his current condition? Or are you doing it because you’re afraid to tell Luc you were wrong to let him kiss you because you’re really still in love with Cash?”
I rub my temples and close my eyes, examining my feelings for the bazillionth time and still coming no closer to figuring them out.
“I don’tknow,” I admit wretchedly. “I don’t know if I’m still in love with Cash. I don’t know if I’m falling in love with Luc. All I know is, I love them both. I don’t want to do anything to hurt either of them. And I certainly don’t want to do anything toloseeither of them.”
Auntie June sighs and pats my thigh. “I don’t think you’re a coward, honey. But I do think you’re in quite a pickle.”
Those soaren’tthe words I was longing to hear.
“Auntie June,” I whine, lifting my hands. “Don’t you have any advice for me? Something profound and wise beyond years?”
Her expression is full of regret. “When it comes to affairs of the heart, it doesn’t matter if you’re eight or eighty-three, things remain a mystery.”
Sighing dejectedly, I cover her aged hand with my own and give it a squeeze. Then we sit and swing in silence, watching as Yard sniffs around the flower beds. When he pops his head up to look back at us, he finds Auntie June scowling at him, daring him to dig up one of her plants, and quickly goes back to sniffing.
It’s a gorgeous winter day. The kind you get only in the South, where the air is warm and sweet, and the sky is cloudless and as blue as a robin’s egg.
