Page 27 of Last Slice of Pie

“Wow, that’s convenient.” He glances at the few boxes I already have sitting there.

“Tell me about it. Saves us so much time.”

“Okay, do the first one with me, and then I’ll take it from there.”

He watches as I look at the first order, which is for three pecan fillings. I pull and assemble a medium-sized box, wrap the jars, and take off the shipping label. Then I drop in the invoice, affix the label, seal the box, and place it on the floor where I want him to line them up.

“Got it?”

“Yep. You get back to those pies.” He smiles at me and I stop breathing, feeling the need to pinch myself.

The rest of the afternoon flies by pretty quickly. As often as I can, I sneak glances at him. He’s so focused as he works, and I laugh to myself wondering what these people would think if they knew this great quarterback was the one packing up their items.

One by one, people stop by to pick up their pies, and every time, eyes go wide upon seeing Bryan here. He’s gracious enough to take a few photos, signs whatever people shove at him, and I know by the end of the night, the whole town will know he’s here, if not the world. He doesn’t seem to be anxious about this, so I try not to be either.

Candied Bacon

WHEN I HAD the idea to come and help her, I didn’t think it would be as fun as it is. Sure, the work is tedious, but it’s allowed me a glimpse into her everyday life, and I like it way more than I thought I would. Granted, thinking the house was on fire and burning down with her in it wasn’t fun, but she had it handled. I hate that it just reminds me she’s out here all by herself. How some guy hasn’t swooped in and claimed her, I’ll never know.

After about an hour of being here, the faint whiff of pecan pie enters the dining room, and my stomach starts growling. Little by little, the smell gets stronger, and I could die in bakery heaven. How does she work like this every day? If my stomach had its way, it would end up eating more than I sold and I’d be as big as an elephant.

Frequently, I feel her watching me from the kitchen, but when she isn’t, I do the same to her. I don’t think she even realizes how beautiful she is. She always has been, but seeing her like this . . . it’s something else. I meant it when I told her I was proud of her. I know us leaving and her having to take care of GiGi toward the end had to have been hard, but look at her now. I find everything about her and this business she’s built incredible.

I’ve thought a lot over the years about the type of person I would need my partner in life to be, and the thing I always come back to is that I need someone who’s driven like I am. I know she doesn’t have that need to be perfect like I do, but she’s never been one to do nothing. Her drive is different than mine, but she still has ambition. She likes what she does, and she clearly loves her business, a quality I find so attractive. I don’t think I could ever be with someone who did nothing, a stay-at-home wife. I need them to have a burn for more; I need there to be an equal understanding. It just wouldn’t work with someone who spends their life constantly waiting around for me.

Behind me, the doorbell rings.

“That’s our last pie pickup,” Lexi says as she zips around me and opens the door. Everyone who’s come by has been so excited to pick up their pies, and I can’t help but be excited with them. It’s clear the people in this town adore her, and how could they not?

“Good evening, Mrs. Caruso!” she says, holding up the pie box.

“Hello, dear.” She smiles warmly at Lexi and then her eyes skip over to me and light up. “Oh, and hello to you, Bryan.”

I give her a nod as her gaze dances back and forth between us. Mrs. Caruso was the twelfth grade language arts teacher at our high school, and she gives us a knowing smile. I smile with her because I know too.

Walking over, I stand close to Lexi, wishing I could wrap my arm around her. “Hello, Mrs. Caruso. How have you been?”

“I’m good. Not as good as you”—she winks—“but I’m retired now and loving the time with my grandkids.”

“I’m happy to hear that.”

“So, you’re here with our girl Lexi?”

“I am. She was nice enough to let me come spend Thanksgiving with her.” I look down at her, and her cheeks are pink, but she still rolls her eyes—forever feisty. My smile widens.

“Well, it’s about time you two got together. Took you long enough.” She nods knowingly.

Lexi lets out a small noise, and I can’t help but chuckle. That’s twice now I’ve been called out. At least I’m here now—better late than never, right?

“How about you take a picture with us? My son will get a kick out of this.” She moves to dig for her phone in her purse.

Lexi steps away from me and starts shaking her head. “Oh, Mrs. Caruso, are you sure you don’t want one of just the two of you? Look at me—I’m a mess.”

She doesn’t look like a mess to me. She changed her clothes just before people started arriving, and although she wrapped another apron around her, her ass looks damn good in those tight jeans.

“Don’t be absurd. You look just fine, dear. I want it with you both.” She hands her phone over to me.

“If you insist.” Lexi frowns as she takes off the apron and smooths out her clothes.