“That, and needing the lightbulb in the pantry replaced.”
“Yes. Yes. However, did I survive day-to-day without my four boys rushing to my rescue?” She swatted my arm and stared into Cam’s yard like divine inspiration would strike if she looked hard enough.
“I do have one suggestion, but you’d have to play the long game.”
“Tell me more,” she said, removing her hat and motioning for me to follow her onto the porch.
She sank into one of the blue Adirondack chairs, and I did the same, groaning as my left knee popped. That old lacrosse injury picked the worst time to twinge. I could run five miles in the rain without issue, then step the wrong way out of the shower and I’d almost buckle from the pain. It was like the second my body turned thirty, some ticking time bomb started bringing all these new aches and pains into the light.
“Have you had lunch? Emma and I went to Daphne’s for brunch, but I could fix you something. I made a ham and cheese quiche the other day.”
“What?” My brain latched on to Emma’s name, and I didn’t hear the rest of her sentence, taking a moment to replay the last fifteen seconds before I was reprimanded for not listening. “Oh no, that’s all right. I have to get back to the shop in a few to help Magnum in the showroom.”
“That’s right. Those color-changing picture frames are going to look amazing once they are displayed. Now, tell me this brilliant idea so I can give you a cinnamon roll and send you on the way.”
“Cinnamon rolls? That’s the magic word, Mom. So, here’s my idea.”
She raised an eyebrow and clapped her hands, rubbing them like some innocent version of an evil villain concocting a scheme.
“It would take a trip to the nursery, specifically looking for quick sprouting seeds. What’s the best thing to plant in fall?”
“Hm. Let’s see. Snapdragons, peas, carrots, green onions, maybe? I’d have to check the almanac to be sure.” She rubbed her cheek, smearing a speck of dirt as her eyes left mine and traveled back toward the large expanse of yard. “Sneezeweed or cone flowers.”
“Sure. Sure,” I said, knowing I needed to stay on task unless I was prepared to listen to her recite pages forty-two to eighty-seven of the most recent edition ofMonth to Month Gardening in the Carolinas.
“What we should do is sow the seeds in his back yard to spell out something vulgar. Or we could draw a body part.”
“I love that you’re saying ‘we,’ son.”
I rolled my eyes and chuckled, shaking my head. “Then we water the seedlings every night. Maybe add some potentfertilizer because we want to make sure whatever you choose blooms beautifully in his yard.”
She grinned as this bold, belly-shaking laugh, where she slapped her knee, and then clapped her hand, as the noise fell from her lips. I couldn’t help but follow suit, laughing so hard my sides ached, and my heartbeat quickened. Soon, we were bent over the chairs, guffawing like two middle schoolers talking about puberty.
“Oh, my biscuits and gravy. That is absolutely perfect. Now I just have to come up with a clever saying.”
“Or a picture,” I added, waggling my eyebrows like she couldn’t eviscerate me on the spot.
“I like the way you think.”
“I want tosign up for one of those online dating websites. I think. Maybe,” I said, wiping a hand across my brow and shrugging, purposely not meeting his eyes. It was rare my brothers and I got into the deep talking shit—we left those talks up to Mom—but something about these last days wasn’t sitting well with me, and feeling this fucking emotional sucked.
Nope.That wasn’t the right word. I didn’t getemotional.Passionate, sure, but not flighty over whatever this turmoil was.Indigestion, most likely.
“Haven’t we already had this discussion? In this exact room last week?” Magnum asked, dropping the carpet knife on the cement floor of the partially constructed showroom. He leaned against the wall, sighed, and closed his eyes. I eyed the half-completed area, fingers itching to tinker with a new light design, but finishing this room had to come before we could display anything created.
“Yeah, but unlike last week when I broached the question to get you to deal with the shit going on with Brooke, this time, I’m asking for your opinion.”
“Well, then,” he said, not opening his eyes, “I’d never considered online dating an option, honestly. Everybody knows somebody who had a shady meet-up. I try to keep my sex life uncomplicated.”
“Oh,” I said, reaching over and punching him in the shoulder. “Is that what you call fucking our receptionist in the supply closet and then having a coronary when she talked about another guy?”
He rolled his eyes and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “We didn’t fuck in the closet.”
“Whatever, dude. But you’re in love or some shit now, so it all worked out.”
“Yep. Is that what this is about? Me not being at the house as often?”
“Oh, my god, stop. Your vagina is showing. I was just asking your opinion.”
