“The shop. Your business.” She looks embarrassed. “Sorry. I overheard the conversation. And I’ve heard bits and pieces of others you’ve had with your siblings. That other store is taking a lot of business away from you.”
“It’s nothing to worry about.”
“Based on the tone of Lincoln’s voice, it’s alotto worry about. And maybe he’s right, I’ve been distracting you from what’s really important in your life. You should be focusing on that.”
I pour the wine, slide her glass across the table, and whisper, “I’m really good at multitasking, Kenna.”
She looks sad. “Your shop is Christian’s future.”
“Yeah, it is. But there’s only so much I can do. Worrying about it isn’t going to change things.” I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “Andyouworrying about it is unnecessary. You’ve got enough to worry about.”
She looks out the window. The sun is starting to set. The kids are reshaping one of the snowmen’s heads. The driveway has been cleared. The streets, too. Both of us know our days are numbered, but neither of us has brought it up. She’s going to be leaving soon. I see it in her stare. Feel it in her kisses. Sense it in the way she makes love to me every night as if it’s the last time it will happen.
Will tomorrow be the day she leaves? Or perhaps this weekend?
At least I know she won’t leave without saying goodbye. Amelia has become so close to Christian, Bug, and me that Kenna would never do that to her.
“I know just what you need.”
I get the deck of cards, split it evenly, and flip one of mine over.
The smile that crosses her face is luminous. Because she knows that with every jack that appears, there will be a flirty touch. A sultry battle of hands. A new round of laughter. Who’d have thought a silly kid’s card game would become our love language.
The third time through the deck, my phone rings and Dax’s face appears on the screen.
“You should take that,” Kenna says. “I’m going to step outside and help the kids.”
Swiping to answer, I silently curse my brother for ruining one of my favorite times of day. Lincoln must have called him right after he talked to me.
“I’m going to tell you what I told Lincoln. There is exactly squat we can do about this right now.”
“Hello to you too,” Dax says.
“I just have better things to do than talk about this for the umpteenth time.”
I glance out the window into the back yard, focusing on those ‘better things.’ Next door, Allie emerges, holding up a steaming cup of something. Hot chocolate by the way Amelia is sprinting in her direction. All of them disappear into Allie’s house.
“We’ll have a family meeting at the store tomorrow. Discuss new ways of marketing and outreach. I’ll talk to John Walker at the bank soon, too. I’m sure it will be okay. Their novelty will wear off. It hasn’t even been three weeks.”
“Three weeks of at least a thirty percent drop in receipts.”
Headlights shine through the front window. “Dax, are you in my driveway?”
“Brother, I’ve had three whiskeys brooding over this. I’m not driving anywhere.”
“I have to go,” I say, walking to the front door. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
I end the call and stare at the unfamiliar black Mercedes. Someone has obviously gotten the wrong address. I grab my coat, open the door, and intercept the guy as he gets out of his car, glancing around like he’s assessing the entire area.
“You lost?” I ask, an unwelcome feeling of dread climbing my spine.
“Carter Cruz?” the guy sporting a crew cut and business attire asks.
“Who’s asking?”
As I await his reply, several thoughts go through my head. This guy is older than Kenna for sure. Wrinkles around his eyesprobably put him at forty at least. Maybe forty-five. Could it be her father?
I eye the expensive looking car and decide it’s probably not something a pastor with a distaste for excess would drive.
