She’d heard horror stories about Mo’s coffee.
He put a hand to his chest, clutching imaginary pearls. “I’m hurt. But yes, I used Meredith’s coffee. And her eighteen million creamer options are in the fridge. I checked. There’s a mocha and a peppermint mocha.” He went back to tapping on the computer. “I don’t understand why she has so many creamers. She enjoys coffee, but how does she keep them from going bad?”
“She takes them to work.” Bronwyn selected the peppermint mocha. “They never go to waste that way.”
“Huh.” Mo’s typing continued.
“How’s your head?” she asked into what was right on the edge of becoming an awkward silence.
“Hurts like a son of a gun.” Mo yawned and looked up at her. “But I’m not seeing double, I’m not dizzy, I’m not nauseated, and I remember everything that happened yesterday.”
“Oh, well, that’s good, then.” It was good. She was relieved. And relieved that what they’d said to each other hadn’t been a wasted conversation because she wasn’t sure she had the emotional fortitude to put herself out there again anytime soon. “But I’m sorry your head hurts. Did you take anything?”
“I did, but I took it on an empty stomach. That was a mistake. I need real food.”
“Does Meredith have anything in her fridge?”
“Next to nothing. She eats with Gray a lot now. But it doesn’t matter.” Mo shoved the laptop to the side and levered himself up to standing with only a small groan. “Because we’ve been invited to brunch.”
Bronwyn blinked a few times, then looked at the microwave clock. It read 9:05. She looked at it again. “Did I really sleep until nine?”
“You did.”
She’d been asking herself, not Mo. She never slept this late. Ever. It was rare for her to still be in bed at seven. Yesterday had been truly awful, but with everything that had happened, sleeping in a different bed, Mo ... she couldn’t believe it was this late already.
“I’m a horrible nurse.”
“No you aren’t.”
“You just told me my bedside manner needs work. And I didn’t check on you even once during the night. I just ... slept.”
“Bronwyn, so did I. I didn’t move until fifteen minutes before you did. Don’t worry about it. We needed the sleep.”
She took a sip of her coffee. “Where are we going for brunch?”
“Granny Quinn wants to see us.”
She set the coffee down.
“Why?”
“Apparently, she, Papa, and the entire family were getting blow-by-blow reports from Cal and Meredith last night.” Mo rolled his head in one direction, then the other. “She informed me that if I was going to get shot in town, the least I could do was come see her so she could confirm with her own eyes that her prayers were working.”
That sounded like Granny Quinn.
She caught the furtive look Mo shot her way and braced herself for what was coming. “They may have mentioned that we’re talking now.”
“May have?” she asked.
“One hundred percent did. She told me she wants to see and hear it with her own eyes and ears before she dies.”
“Is she dying now?” Had she missed something?
“Not to my knowledge, nor anyone else’s. She was just being dramatic.”
“I’ll say.”
“You don’t have to go, but I do. And since I don’t want you to be alone, you ... okay, so yeah, you do have to go. Sorry about that.”
