Page 74

“You know”—he drops the pen, plucks the toothpick out of his mouth and drops it in the trash can, stepping closer to me—“I’m concerned why a man is carrying me home in this situation.”

I laugh.

He drops his forehead to mine and brings a palm to my cheek.

“It’s all going to be okay; you know that right? He’s at a different house, not gone.”

I lean against his palm. Familiar. Comforting.

“I know.”

He looks at the clock on the wall; it’s almost noon. “I have to go get Lucy from Libby’s. Do you want to come with me? Or I can come back here after?”

I shake my head. “No, go. I’m going to go to the gym, eat good food, quadruple check paperwork. I probably need to reach out to Sharon and apologize for acting like a wild banshee.”

Another chuckle, another kiss.

“You’ll be a great mom, Birdie.”

Next to him, I wrap my arms around his waist. My head to his chest, the soft sound of his heartbeat soothes me.

“You know,” I say, not pulling my cheek from him. “You’re getting pretty good at making these lists.”

His body vibrates when he laughs.

“I learned from the best.”

“Church tomorrow?” I ask.

“Church tomorrow.”

“Birdie! Time for church! We brought a kite!” The squeaky voice is accompanied by a rhythmic tapping on the door.

Pulling on my shoes, I open it,surprised.

“Lucy—hi!” I say, confused, looking up to see Bo crossing the yard.

“Gran doesn’t feel good today,” she says.

I ignore the undulation of panic that those simple words create and force a smile. “That’s too bad.”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Bo says, scrubbing the top of Lucy’s head when he’s standing beside her. “Gran was tired, and I told Lucy Goosey here we could go to the park.”

George Strait barks as if he knows what all this means, and Lucy giggles.

I widen my eyes dramatically and put my hands on my hips. “Well, the dog can’t wait to ride with you in the back seat.”

Her response is a laugh as the dog licks her in the face.

“You wanna try to load him up, Luce?” Bo asks her. “He’s kind of gotten used to the whole back seat, you might have to fight him for it.”

Grabbing the leash, she nods, braided pigtails swishing through the air. “Maybe he can sit on my lap!”

Down the steps, across the yard, and at the Jeep, Lucy fails miserably at getting him to cooperate as Bo and I walk slowly toward them.

“You okay today?” he asks.

I smile. “I am. Your lists work miracles, apparently.”