For the next few minutes, we’re distracted as he reels in his catch.
“Catch and release,” he says gently placing the small fish back into the water. “It’s all about the journey, dude.”
I chuckle. “Good thing for you since you never actually reach any of your goals.”
“Well, I’m no Mr. Darcy, right?” he says with a smirk.
“It’s your middle name, too. None of us can get away from this town’s Jane Austen obsession.”
“No, but most of us haven’t been anointed as one of the soul mates either. You know what I’d really like, though?”
“I’m still not talking about Gigi. I asked her to marry me, and she said yes.”
“Great. What I’d like,” he continues as if I never spoke, “is to go tubing in the river again. It’s been a while.”
I narrow my eyes. “What’s the hook?”
“No hook,” he says casually. “As long as you bring Gigi, I’ll bring the rest of the group. And I’ll set the date.”
“You mean you’ll bring Macey.”
“Among others.” He breaks form and abruptly grins at me. “You know I’m happy for you if you’re happy, right?” He slaps my back. “Your engagement feels…I don’t know how to put it…it feels off. But I’m ridiculously fucking single—what do I know?”
“Exactly.” I return my attention to the fishing. “So stop being so fucking nosy.”
42
Macey
* * *
Wiping yet another tear from my eye, I take the peach pie out of the oven and put it on the cooling rack. I glance over at the buttermilk biscuits I just baked, but I have no appetite. I’ve been unable to bury my grief in food like I’d hoped.
I met Gigi over two hours ago, and I feel just as bad as I did when Ginny and I finally escaped The Cowherd. Worse, really, since Gigi is perfect in every way. She may be spoiled and annoying, but she’s also sweet and cute.
And now, I have to admit that it’s real.
Logan’s engaged.
To some other woman.
I was far too confident in my ability to let him go. I was an idiot, and now I’ve missed my chance to tell him.
Since we were kids, Logan was there for me in every way that I needed him. And he never asked for more than I could give him. Not once. And I don’t know that I’ve properly thanked him for always meeting me where I was at.
So, now I need to do the same for him.
I step out on my back deck and look up at the huge Texas sky. I wonder who’s looking out for me now. Because I know full well that this changes everything. Forever.
I go back inside, throw myself down on the couch, and then pick up the afghan I’ve been knitting all spring. The red raindrop design in the center is nearly complete. In fact, it’s so close I could probably finish it right now if I tried. But I need a different kind of distraction. Human-interaction distraction.
I return to the kitchen, grab my peach pie, cooling rack and all, and walk out the front door.
As soon as I step out of my beat-up SUV and face the one-story ranch house where I grew up, my mind floods with flashbacks. Daddy storming out the front door, Mama screaming after him, and—depending on the year—Riley or Ben or Free wailing in the background while I attempted to soothe their crying with a pacifier, a bottle, or a hug.
When Free answers my knock, she’s got her long blond hair up in a bun and flour all over her hands.
“Hello, oldest sister and keeper of our dysfunctional family. I have good news for you and bad news for me.” Free wipes her hands on her cute pink apron. “But I think it’s all for the best, really.”
