2. Pepper
TWO
PEPPER
I arranged the last slice of prosciutto on the board, stepping back to admire my handiwork. The spread looked like something out of a fancy food magazine—cheeses nestled against clusters of grapes, honey drizzled just so, olives gleaming in their little ceramic dish. Not bad for someone who spent her day slinging hash browns and refilling coffee mugs. I actually did a lot more than that, but they were diner staples for a reason.
“Perfect.” I added a light dusting of red pepper flakes over one corner of the board—my special addition that my friends had learned to expect. Some thought it was sacrilege to spice up good cheese, but hell, my diner wasn’t called Kiss My Grits for nothing.
The sunflowers from Bloomsday brightened my kitchen table, their yellow faces almost glowing in the candlelight. I’d splurged on them yesterday, knowing I’d need something cheerful after the Sunday rush nearly broke me. Brunch and Sunday lunch were always a challenge, but two servers had called in sick, and I’d spent half the day playing server while trying to manage the kitchen.
I rolled my shoulders, feeling the day’s tension knotted between my shoulder blades. Joss Stone’s smooth voice flowed from discreet speakers, singing about late nights and lost loves. The music wrapped around me like a warm blanket as I poured myself a glass of red wine.
“You’ve earned this, DeLuca.” I took a sip and closed my eyes. The wine was excellent—another splurge, but girls’ night deserved better than the boxed stuff.
I’d barely settled onto the sofa and kicked my sock feet up onto the coffee table when a knock sounded on the door. The garage door, since the front porch was now becoming a hazard. It had been old but decent enough when Rhett and I bought the house shortly after we married, so it had been pushed on down the list of projects, after painting, ripping out floors, and rehabbing the kitchen that was the heart of the place. I supposed I should have been grateful for the fact that he’d stuck around long enough for that. The kitchen was the biggest job, for sure. But since our divorce, I simply hadn’t had the time to take on any other home improvement projects. Paying the mortgage on only one income was a challenge as it was. I could’ve sold the house, moved into a smaller place. But I simply hadn’t been able to make myself. Maybe because I wasn’t ready for that final step in grieving my marriage.
Shaking off the thought, I went to answer. Allie Taggart and Jess Donnegan stood on my stoop, each of them with more girls’ night contributions in hand. Jess had supplied the gourmet chocolate, and Allie more wine. I knew Meghan Garcia, our fourth Musketeer, was at a trade show in Birmingham for the night, so it was just us three.
“Ladies.” I waved them in, waiting until they’d added their packages to the island before I folded them each into a hug. “Man, I really need this tonight.”
Allie spotted my wine glass where I’d set it down on the counter. “Getting started without us?”
I grinned as I scooped up the glass. “Only a little bit.”
“I suppose that’s only fair, considering.” She exchanged a look with Jess that I couldn’t decipher.
“Considering what?” Going brows up, I sipped at the wine, the warmth spreading through my chest in stark contrast to the sudden chill creeping up my spine. Something in their expressions made my stomach tighten.
“That Rhett’s back.”
I promptly choked on the very nice Syrah, the rich wine burning my sinuses. “What?” I coughed, setting the glass down with trembling fingers before I dropped it. “Did Austen tell you that?” And, hell, why hadn’t she warned me?
“No. I saw him myself when he came into Pie Hard this morning. Nan waited on him.” Allie’s words hit me like a punch to the solar plexus, and I fought to keep my breath from wheezing out.
I held back the half-dozen questions I wanted to ask, biting down on my lower lip to keep them from tumbling out in an embarrassing rush. How did he look? Was he alone? Did he ask about me? Is he all in one piece? Had the last three years been as hard on him as they’d been on me? My heart hammered against my ribs, and I forced myself to take a slow, steadying breath.
He hadn’t returned with the rest of his Reserve unit a few weeks ago because of some kind of injury. I didn’t know exactly what kind or how severe it was, only that he’d had surgery and been doing rehab at Walter Reed. I only knew that much because his sister kept me up to date. She didn’t have to. By rights, no one owed me any information on Rhett MacAvoy these days. But divorced or not, I’d still worried when he deployed. He’d been the first boy I’d ever loved. My first kiss, first everything. And I’d thought he’d be my only. But that had been Before.
Realizing my friends were both staring at me in concern, I resisted the urge to down the entire rest of the glass and affected an unconcerned expression. “Oh, well, it’s good that he’s made it home. I know his family has missed him.”
Jess pursed her lips. “I don’t think his family is the only one.”
“I don’t miss him.” The words came out sharp enough to cut glass. “That’s ancient history.”
“Really?” Allie reached for the corkscrew to open the bottle of sauv blanc she’d brought. “Because I saw you lurking in the parking lot at the high school when his unit came home.”
The wine glass froze halfway to my lips. Heat crawled up my neck. “I wasn’t lurking.”
“You were behind Old Man Peterson’s truck.” Allie twisted the screw into the cork with practiced efficiency. “Wearing sunglasses. And a hat.”
“It was bright,” I muttered. When they both only continued to stare at me, I huffed. “I just wanted to make sure he was okay.” The admission burned my throat worse than the wine.
“And you still have dinner with his parents every other month.” Jess nabbed a piece of cheese from my carefully arranged board. “Your ex-in-laws. And coffee with his sister every other week.”
I stacked cheese on a cracker and sprinkled red pepper flakes over the top. “They were my family for ten years. Longer if you look at how long Rhett and I were together. That doesn’t just go away because we got divorced.”
Allie poured generous measures of wine into fresh glasses. “When was the last time you went on a date?”
When was the last time Rhett had taken me on one? Maybe six months before we’d split? He’d planned them often enough, but actually managing to make it through without being interrupted by his job had been increasingly rare. I’d gotten tired of being second fiddle. And since him…
“I’ve been busy.” I gestured at nothing in particular. “The diner?—”
“Has been running like clockwork.” Jess lifted her glass. “Try again.”
Casting around for something else to say, I thought of the house and the seemingly endless list of projects I hadn’t been able to make myself touch since Rhett had moved out. “I’ve been working on the house.”
“Have you, though? Because you still haven’t painted that hall bathroom, or hung those pendant lights over the counter, or—” Jess looked to Allie. “What’s some of the other stuff she’s mentioned?”
She popped an olive into her mouth and considered. “The pergola in the back. Replanting the flowerbeds. Dealing with that death trap of a front porch.”
“Okay, fine. I’m not ready.” The words slipped out before I could catch them, hanging in the air like an unwelcome truth.
“Not ready?” Allie’s voice went gentle, her eyes softening with understanding. “Or not over him?”
I sank onto one of the barstools, suddenly exhausted, the weight of three years of avoidance pressing down on my shoulders. “Does it matter? We couldn’t make it work the first time. Nothing’s changed.” I traced a divot in the butcher block counter with my finger, avoiding their concerned gazes.
“Everything’s changed.” Jess squeezed my shoulder, her grip firm and reassuring. “You’ve both had three years to grow up. To figure out what you want.”
“What I want is to not talk about this anymore.” I grabbed a handful of crackers, stuffing one in my mouth to prevent further confessions. “Who’s got the remote? There’s a new episode of that baking show we need to catch up on.” I forced brightness into my voice, desperate to steer us away from dangerous waters where Rhett MacAvoy still swam through my thoughts.