“Come with me. We’ll get the marriage license again in the morning and it’ll be done by the weekend. I won’t let you out of my sight until you have my last name. I won’t ever let anything come between us again, Crystal…”
I trailed off when her gaze shifted and locked over my right shoulder.
“I was wondering what had you all tied up and losing your mind these past months,” Aunt Daisy’s voice sounded, before I could turn to investigate what had stolen her attention.
“I, uhm…”
“You’re the one he’s in love with.” Aunt Daisy smile radiated in her tone.
“Aunt Daisy.” I cleared my throat.
She snorted and canted her head, quietly challenging me to deny it. I sighed, having done a damn good job of keeping the details to myself. I’d lost my temper more than a few times, but I never told her about Crystal, or Springfield.
“Get your family together, Anthony, I’ll have breakfast waiting at home for all three of you.”
Crystal’s faint smile made my attention anchor on her, rather than my departing aunt.
“That’s, uhm…”
“Daisy,” she offered.
I nodded, “You should probably get your sister, she isn’t used to repeating herself about mealtimes.”
Crystal, rubbed her upper arms and hesitantly nodded. When she shifted toward the door, I placed a hand on her upper chest, halting her in her path.
“Put. The. Ring. Back. On,” I firmly, but quietly repeated.
She reached behind her neck and carefully did as I asked. I kissed her knuckles and held her to me, until a year’s worth of tension slowly began to fade.
Chapter Thirty-Five
When it Feels Right
Crystal
Joplin side-eyed me, as we entered the cozy house on the corner. The kitchen table sat in the middle of the room with curio cabinets full of fancy dishes and knickknacks.
“Aunt Daisy is a collector.” He smiled when he saw us looking at one. He showed me his parents' portrait and a thick ancient bible that had been in Daisy’s family for generations.
“Anthony, don’t just stand there. Get the table ready,” Daisy called, from another room.
He shook his head, but quietly obliged.
“Sit down, make yourselves comfortable,” Anthony encouraged, motioning around the table.
Daisy emerged from a side hall with a platter of pancakes and a bottle of maple syrup.
“Help yourselves, I’ll be right back with the rest.”
Anthony held up a finger and disappeared down the hallway. He came back with his hands full of glasses, and a pitcher of orange juice. Daisy followed him with a bowl of steaming eggs and a plate of sausage links.
Joplin wasted no time piling her plate, much to Daisy’s pleasure.
“Leave her be.” She chuckled, when I quietly mumbled at her to slow down. “It’s been years since I have had a teenager to appreciate my cooking. The boys used to be the same way.”
She wasn’t a growing, teenage boy. She was just a girl, whose mother worked the microwave better than the stove. A home-cooked meal that didn’t come pre-cooked and frozen was a treat where we grew up.
“I’ve seen you girls before,” Daisy quietly mused, while spreading peanut butter on her pancake.
