Page 6 of Just a Number (Magnolia Row #2)

MICAH

A fter we close the store, I drive my grandmother to the home we share on the other side of town. She talks about the architect the entire way.

“I’m just saying,” she says. “He was a tall glass of water if I’ve ever seen one. Honey, if I were your age?—”

“Nana, please stop!” I shake my head and try to pay attention to the road.

“I’d sink my claws into him and not let go. He’s got a calm, debonair way about him, like Cary Grant or Robert Redford. Like he stepped out of Old Hollywood, you know?”

All I can do is shake my head, but she keeps going.

“Honey, a man like that will kiss you like it’s a sin, then hold you all night to protect you.”

“Nana—"

“He’ll buy you nice jewelry, put you up in a fancy house, and then when the lights go out?—"

“Okay, that’s enough. I don’t want to talk about the architect anymore.”

“He’d be better than what’s-his-name in Montgomery.”

“Garrett. You know his name.”

“I’m trying to forget. Rhodes is a much nicer name. Sounds like royalty. Lord Rhodes of Magnolia Row.”

I shake my head. “You’ve been watching too much Bridgerton .”

I pull into the driveway. Our house is small, modest, and smells like my grandmother’s perfume.

I moved in with Nana after my mom skipped town when I was ten years old, so this has always been home to me.

It may be dated and feel like a time capsule from the seventies, but I love it.

It even has the original brown and orange shag carpet and puke-green enamel stove in the kitchen.

Most people probably think it’s tacky, but I would never change a thing.

Once we get inside, Nana assures me she has enough leftovers for dinner and waves me off so I can get ready for my not-really-a-date thing. I don’t think it’s a date, anyway. I’m hanging out with Garrett at his place after he gets off work. Nothing crazy.

I shower, washing the sticky sweat from my body after being in the hot store all day. Rhodes didn’t help matters. I know I turned twenty shades of red every time he looked at me. It should be a crime to look that good. Nana’s at least right about that.

I decide to wear my hair up tonight, even though it makes my face look extra round.

August in Alabama is way too hot to have long, thick hair on your neck.

I know I’ll sweat most of it off, but I still wear a full face of makeup with my signature red lipstick and fake—but tasteful—lashes.

I wear a pink floral maxi dress to cover my legs with a white shrug to hide my arms. The dress is low, so at least my ample cleavage is showing.

Garrett always says he likes chesty women, so I might as well flaunt it.

Once I’m ready, I check Nana’s pill organizer and realize she hasn’t taken her afternoon meds, so I fish them out and take them to her in the living room.

“I thought I took those.”

“Apparently not.”

“I guess I was thinking about yesterday.” She shakes her head, then downs them with some (hopefully) unsweet iced tea.

“I love you, Nana.”

“Love you too, sugar bug. Be careful on them roads.”

“I will.”

I get in my little blue hatchback, text Garrett to let him know I’m on my way, then put on a playlist of Kacey Musgraves and drive to Montgomery in the dark.

The entire journey is on poorly lit backroads, and even though it’s grossly hot outside, the deer are unseasonably active, so I have to be careful.

It’s a little over an hour before I finally start seeing streetlights on the outskirts of town. My phone dings, and I see it’s Garrett. I pull over at a gas station to read it since I’ll need to fill up for the drive home anyway.

Hey babe—I’m sorry, but something came up at work. Raincheck?

I stare at the screen. He couldn’t have texted me before I left Magnolia Row? He knew I was on the way, and that I was likely close.

I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am disappointed—not to mention frustrated. I know he has a lot on his plate with running his own company and all, but still.

Perfectly fine! I’ll see you another night. No worries.

I tell myself not to be mad and that it’s not about me, but it’s hard. This isn’t the first time he’s done this.

You’re the best. Don’t know what I’d do without you. We’ll try again next week.

I pump gas, then follow the path back to Magnolia Row in the dark. This time I don’t listen to any music. I stare blankly at the empty road and passing trees in perfect silence.

* * *

I don’t want Nana to know what happened, so once I get back to my hometown, I head straight to Cattywampus Brewing. The gravel lot is packed, so I park on Main and walk down to the river.

The brewery is in an old cotton mill. It’s a huge, open space with exposed brick and high-top tables dotting the floor. There’s a stage opposite the bar, and tonight a country band is playing. They must be from out of town, as I don’t recognize any of them.

I spot my friends at a table in the middle of the room. Sistine waves at me and whispers something to Kendall, which I’m sure is a snide remark about Garrett.

Sistine has wavy blonde hair she keeps shoulder-length and is wearing a loose Magnolia Row High School homecoming shirt from twelve years ago with cut-off jean shorts.

She’s the opposite of me: short, flat as a fritter in front and back, and doesn’t wear a stitch of makeup.

Kendall is just as petite, but has a little more of a figure with long, dark hair and minimal, natural make-up.

I know it’s all in my head, but they both make me feel like a giant clown sometimes.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Sistine says as I approach and toss my purse onto the rough wooden table. “What happened to your hot date?”

“He had something come up.”

Sistine and Kendall exchange a look. Sistine’s says “I told you so,” and Kendall’s is one of pity.

“What could be more important than seeing you?” asked Sistine.

“He owns that tech company. He’s always busy. It’s hard right now, but once he gets it up and running with the right managers, we’ll spend more time together.”

They stare at me like I’m pathetic.

“Stop. Both of you.”

“We think you deserve better,” says Kendall.

“What I deserve is a drink.” I go to the bar and order a Tilted Halo Strawberry Blonde.

“I thought you weren’t coming tonight,” says Calista, the barkeep who’s been here since the place opened several years ago. “Sissy said you had a date.”

“Change of plans,” I say as she gives me my drink and I hand her my card. As I walk back to the table, Sistine and Kendall stare at me like we have unfinished business.

“So what did he say?” asks Sistine the moment I sit back down.

“Who?” I ask, sipping my beer and playing dumb, as if Garrett cancelling didn’t bother me.

Sistine rolls her eyes. “Garrett. Ferret. Whatever his name is. Douchebag in Montgomery.”

I take another swig. It’s ice cold and feels great in this stuffy room. “Something came up at work. I didn’t ask for details.”

“Did he at least tell you before you left?” asks Kendall.

“Well, I wasn’t at his house yet.”

“But you drove all the way to Montgomery.” Sistine says it more as a statement than a question.

I sit back with crossed arms and stare at them. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Fine,” says Sistine.

We change the subject and talk about our weeks. Sistine owns the coffee shop a few blocks from here and mentions someone from out of town came in a few days ago, claiming to be an architect who is restoring the old hotel.

“Yeah! I met him too!” I say. “He came to the store today to check out the fountain.”

“That’s amazing!” says Kendall. “I hope they do a good job. My parents said it used to be so beautiful. Too bad it wasn’t fixed up for the movie.”

A big Hollywood picture recently wrapped filming here. Apparently the director had heard of our town and thought it was the most picturesque place for a movie. Kendall doesn’t like to talk about it, but she had a fling with one of the actors.

“They could’ve cast the architect,” says Sistine. “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a man so striking.”

“Well, he’ll be back,” I say. “He talked to Nana about buying the fountain.”

“He wasn’t wearing a ring,” says Sistine.

“Are you ready to date again?” Kendall asks Sistine, with a hint of hope in her voice.

Sistine married her high school sweetheart, as did our friend Patsy, within months of graduating.

Patsy went on to have five boys and a happy marriage.

Sistine’s husband was killed in car accident the day Patsy’s first son was born.

She and her husband were driving to the hospital to visit the new baby when they were hit, and she still has scars on her scalp and arms from the glass.

She hasn’t dated since and refuses to talk about it.

“No. I wasn’t thinking of me,” she says, looking at me and raising her eyebrows.

“I can’t go out with him,” I say. “I have Garrett. Besides, Rhodes is way out of my league.”

“Rhodes?” asks Kendall. “You’re on a first-name basis?”

Sistine doesn’t miss a beat. “Garrett won’t even call you his girlfriend. How long has it been? A year?”

“Sixteen months,” I say, sipping my beer again. “It’s fine. We’re undefinable.”

“He’s using you to be his secret sex girl.” Sistine gives me a look, daring me to challenge her.

“He is not.”

“Have you ever met his friends?” she asks, her eyes darting between me and Kendall.

“No.”

“Family?”

“No.”

“Does he have pictures of you at his house?”

“He lives in an apartment, but no.”

“He’s a big successful businessman who lives in an apartment?” She gives me a look as if to say ‘checkmate.’

“It’s a nice-ish apartment.”

“Has he ever even come here to see you?”

“No, but with my nana?—"

“Whom he’s never shown interest in meeting!”

I sigh and slouch my shoulders, glaring at Sistine.

Kendall raises her eyebrows and fidgets with her pint glass. “We can change the subject,” she says, shooting Sistine a look imploring her to tone down the interrogation.

“Oh my God,” says Sistine, looking towards the bar. “As if the Lord himself heard us. There he is!”

“Who?” I ask, turning around.

Staring right back at me, leaning on the bar and looking oh-so-casually-cool, is Rhodes.

“Who are we looking at?” asks Kendall.

“The hot architect,” answers Sistine.

“Oh!” she replies, immediately knowing exactly who we’re talking about. “He is hot!”

He waves, and I’m pretty sure he’s looking at me. I wave back, feeling all the blood rush to my face, and turn back around.

“Micah, you are blushing!” says Kendall.

“Go get another drink,” says Sistine.

“But I still have?—"

Sistine picks up my beer and chugs it, then slams the empty glass down on the table.

“Put the next one on my tab. Just get your ass up there.”

I roll my eyes but grab my empty glass and make my way to the bar. Rhodes smiles when he sees me approaching.