Chapter 21
Goldie
Davis slows the truck and pulls into a gravel and dirt parking lot in front of a gray double-wide trailer. A small banner above the door reads GRANNY’S in red lettering with a blinking neon OPEN sign attached to the side.
“This is the diner?” I ask hesitantly. It’s unlike any diner I’ve seen before, either on the road or on TV, at least from the outside.
“Yeah,” Davis chuckles. “Might not look like much, but I’m telling you, best pancakes you’ll ever eat.” Davis hops out first, helping me out of the truck and then shouldering Lily’s diaper bag while I unbuckle her from the car seat. He leads me to the entrance and guides me inside the warm, maple syrup-scented trailer with red and white checkered flooring.
At the long silver countertop immediately opposite the entrance, four older gentlemen turn around as one on their bar stools, each with a ceramic mug of coffee in their hands, giving us the once over. The youngest of the four with dark brown skin and silver curls laughs and slaps the top of his well-worn jean-clad thigh. “Knew it!” He gestures to the man beside him, who has sun-aged tan skin and is wearing a tweed flat cap, and says, “Pay up, Pete.”
“Damnit, Freddy. I knew I shouldn’t have taken that bet.” Pete gives Davis and me a toothy grin, though, beneath a bushy gray mustache as he pulls a fat leather wallet from his back pocket and slaps a ten-dollar bill on Freddy’s open palm. Then he snaps his fingers and says, “Say, Davis. You still working over at Berenson?”
Davis drapes his arm over my shoulder. “Yes, sir.”
“Damn,” Pete mutters, slapping another ten-dollar bill on top of the other. But then he snaps his fingers again and cocks his head to the side. “You still long-hauling?”
Davis coughs. “No, sir.”
“Well, hot diggity! Pay up.” Pete turns his palm up, and Freddy gives Pete his twenty dollars back with a huff.
I can’t help but laugh at the exchange, the atmosphere as warm as the temperature. I might not like the idea of having to find childcare for Lily and going back to waiting tables, but I have a good feeling about this place so that counts for something.
“Goldie! Over here!” Looking to the left, I spot Dolly half-standing from her seat at a booth in the back corner, waving her arm above her head. The two women sitting opposite her turn their heads toward us, and yup, I’m right back to feeling like the new kid at school, twice over.
Davis drops his arm to push gently against my lower back as we walk past packed, red upholstered booths lining the wall facing the parking lot and a handful of four top tables with chairs on the right. Davis nods his head at Russell, who is seated by himself at one of the tables. Though I’ve only met him once, when I first got into town, it would be hard to forget the man with his tall, muscular build that belies the peppery gray hair and beard.
Dolly maneuvers out of her booth to pull me in for a hug when we arrive at the table. She gives Davis a friendly wave and says, “Hi, Davis. Bye, Davis.”
The brunette with thick purple streaks in her hair and a tiny purple nose ring snorts, waving as well.
Davis kisses my temple and takes Lily from my arms. “We’ll be at the counter,” he says. “Holler if you need me, baby.”
When he leaves, Dolly motions for me to sit next to her. “Girls, I’d like y’all to meet our newest member, Goldie,” she says like they’re in some kind of club.
The brunette leans forward to shake my hand. “Hi, I’m Violet—Wyatt’s ex’s little sister, Dolly’s former wedding planner and now yours, and most importantly, Dolly’s best friend in the whole wide world.” She gives a teasing smile to the older woman seated next to her, with mid-length blonde hair pulled up into a high ponytail and wearing a pink uniform dress with a white apron.
The blonde tsks at Violet. “You wish. I saw Dolly first. Therefore, I’m her bestest bestie.” Then she leans forward to shake my hand. “I’m Faye. Welcome to Granny’s.”
Violet rubs her hand over what looks to be a small baby bump. “Wrong. You used to be in love with Wyatt, which is an automatic disqualifier.”
Faye’s cheeks flame as red as a tomato. “I was not. It was just a leftover crush from high school.”
I look at Dolly from the corner of my right eye, and she narrows hers at Faye even as a smile tugs at her lips.
A waitress in her mid-twenties with curly brown hair pulled back in a claw clip wearing the same pink and white uniform as Faye—though it looks to be on the small size as the buttons strain across her chest—shuffles up to the table with a pot of coffee and empty mug in hand. She gives me a tired smile. “Coffee?” When I nod, she fills and pushes the mug toward me.
Faye frowns when Layla yawns, and she slides off the bench seat to grab an empty chair from a nearby table, situating it at the head of our booth. “Sit down, Layla. You’re falling asleep on your feet.”
Layla looks like she’s considering it, purple circles beneath her pretty brown eyes that are darker than Violet’s, but just then, a group of men in mud-streaked jeans and work boots enter the diner. She shakes her head, covering her next yawn with the back of her hand. “Maybe later.”
Faye lays a hand on her upper arm. “Why don’t you let me take care of them? You sit. Have some coffee yourself.”
Layla steps back in her white sneakers. “Not when you just got off your shift, and I need the tips.”
The girls and I silently follow Layla with our eyes, watching as she grabs a handful of plastic menus from behind the counter and directs the men to an empty table next to Russell.
“She’s working too many jobs. I’m worried about her,” Dolly says.
I thought she looked familiar. She was training with the tow truck driver, who came to collect Mrs. Fitzroy’s rental car from our house.
“You’re not the only one.” Violet nods her head toward Russell. It’s obvious from even here that his jaw is clenched tight, gripping his fork over his egg omelet hard enough to bend the metal when Layla apologizes to her table after she yawns again.
When Layla finishes writing the men’s orders on her notepad, she bumps into Russell’s table and stumbles slightly over her feet. Russell is out of his seat fast to steady her with his hands on her thin waist, though he lets go half a second later, then stomps out of the diner.
“Oh man, he’s got it bad,” Violet says.
Faye says, “I’m putting my foot down and taking over her table.” To me, she says quickly, “It was real nice to meet you, Goldie. ‘Fraid I have to run.”
We watch as Faye steers Layla by her shoulders toward our booth. She points at the chair and tells Layla to sit in a no-nonsense tone, then takes Layla’s notepad with her when she heads to the kitchen behind the counter.
A minute later, Faye returns with a steaming cup of coffee and a one-hundred-dollar bill, her gold wedding band reflecting the fluorescent lighting. She sets both on the silver top in front of Layla and says, “Russell’s tip.”
I’d be jumping for joy at that kind of hefty tip, but Layla groans. “Again?”
Dolly’s brows go up. “Again? How often does he leave tips like that?”
“Every day,” Layla responds, slugging back half her coffee before flinching, no doubt burning the roof of her mouth and throat.
Even though it’s none of my business, I ask Layla, “And you’re unhappy with that because…?”
“Because I didn’t earn it.” She gives me a weak smile, her lips glossy, dark lashes fluttering, trying to keep her eyes open. “Now I have to swing by BT to drop it off on my way to my next gig.” When Dolly opens her mouth to say something, Layla straightens, puts on a brighter smile, and changes the subject. “Enough about me, let’s talk wedding.”
Violet reaches across the table to hold her hand. “Are you sure you’re up for it?”
“Of course.”
Violet pulls her silver laptop with a purple vinyl decal of her wedding planning logo from a canvas tote bag and opens it on the table, tapping away on the keyboard. “First things first—when’s the wedding?”
“Oh, um, Thursday,” I answer, feeling my milk let down as my ears perk up at Lily starting to fuss from across the diner.
Violet’s shapely brows shoot up. “Thursday? As in three days from now?”
I give her an apologetic look.
“Well, then, you’re in luck.” She smiles wide, all teeth, her eyes twinkling. “Not to toot my own horn, but if anyone can pull a wedding off in three days, it’s me and Layla.” She swings her gaze to the side. “Right, Layla?”
Layla is asleep with her pale cheek lying on her arms crossed in front of her on the tabletop, her lips parted as she breathes deeply.
“Shit.” Dolly types out a text message on her cell phone.
Within minutes, Russell is stomping back into the diner. He doesn’t say one word as his ears turn red while he scoops Layla up into his arms. She rouses just enough to tell him to put her down and that she needs to go back to work, but he shushes her before carrying her out of the diner.
Dolly and Violet breathe out a sigh of relief, and then we get down to business. Between mouthfuls of the most delicious pancakes ever that Faye dropped off, I thankfully don’t have to do much more than give one or two-word answers to Violet’s questions since I don’t know the first thing about planning a wedding.
Violet asks, “Favorite color?”
That’s an easy one. “Pink.” Like Lily’s rosy cheeks .
“Officiant, religious, or other?”
“Officiant.”
Violet places a quick call to who knows. “Done,” she says, ending the call. She poises her long acrylic-tipped fingers over the keyboard. “Guests you’d like to invite?”
My eyes drop to my plate as I shake my head. Once upon a time, I dreamed of my dad getting clean and walking me down the aisle, but that dream’s been shattered. Although I had what I thought was a large group of friends in high school, everyone scattered across the country for college while I stayed home to take care of Aunt Lydia, and I haven’t kept up with any of them.
Dolly snakes her hand around my back and squeezes my side. It makes me want to cry. I may not have any friends from back home anymore, but within two days, I’ve potentially made four. I can already tell they’re good people, and a hopeful smile tugs at the corners of my mouth.
After a few more minutes of back-and-forth questions, while I polish off the rest of my pancakes, stuffed to the brim, Violet announces that she can take care of the rest. With Lily growing louder, I ask, “Is there somewhere I can nurse her?”
I slide out of the booth, then follow Dolly through the diner after she nods. When I collect Lily from Davis, The HELP WANTED sign next to the cash register catches my eye, and I make a mental reminder to ask for a job application before I leave.
“Right through there,” Dolly says, pointing to a door on the left just before we get to the swinging doors that lead to the kitchen. “The office locks from the inside, so you’ll have privacy.”
“Thanks.” I push through it, forgetting to knock first.
I look up at the sound of a gruff male voice saying, “If you want that raise, you’ll suck my dick like a good little employee and swallow my cum.”
“Oh my god,” I yell, finding Faye on her knees between a much older man’s spread legs, seated at the swivel office chair behind his desk, pressing on the back of Faye’s head. The name tag pinned to his white button-down shirt reads HAROLD, which Dolly told me is the name of the diner’s manager.
Faye chokes and stands straight up, her dress unbuttoned down to her waist, the material pulled to the sides to reveal her small breasts. She claps one hand over her mouth and bands her other slim arm across her chest.
I catch a flash of the salt and pepper man’s large, hard dick that I rip my eyes away from. I clench my teeth, furious at this asshole for using his position of authority to take advantage of Faye, shaking with the desire to punch him right in his dick. I yell for Davis since I’m holding Lily and can’t do it myself without putting her in danger.
“No, no! It’s not what it looks like!” Faye screams as Davis races inside the small office, who first checks me over, then swings his murderous gaze at Harold, who is fumbling with buckling his belt after tucking his dick away in his black trousers.
My knees crash against the wooden desk when I open my mouth to yell at the dirty pervert.
“We’re married!” Faye shouts over her shoulder after turning around to button up her uniform, interrupting me before I can explode.
“He’s married, too?” With red-hot fury directed at Harold, I growl, “Does your wife know what a scumbag—”
Faye steps into my line of sight, blocking my view with her hands held up in front of her. “To each other! He’s my husband!”
“You’re—oh my god,” I squeak, my anger instantly doused.
Davis wraps an arm around my waist from behind, his chest shaking as he laughs against my back. Harold’s face is as red as a fire hydrant when he stands from his chair and shoves his top into his waistband. He clears his throat, looking anywhere but at us.
I grimace at Faye. “I thought he was taking advantage of you. He said—”
Harold looks like he wants to die, beyond mortified, especially since my raised voice has drawn more people into the tiny office. He drops his head back to look up at the gray ceiling tiles and says only, “Role-playing.”
My jaw drops as my ears burn. “I am so, so, so sorry. I should have knocked.”
Faye gives me a pained look.
Harold clutches his chest like he’s on the verge of having a cardiac event when one of the old-timers from the counter, a man with a warm brown face and deeply etched laugh lines, pokes his head in and cackles, “You dirty dog.” He calls over his shoulder, “Hey, Freddy! You owe me fifty bucks. I knew these two were getting busy in the office.”
Faye pats Harold’s chest over his heart after Harold tips his forehead against hers and murmurs something too low for me to hear.
Davis draws me away. “Time to go, honey.”
“I’m really, really sorry,” I say as Davis keeps tugging on me. As soon as we’re outside without saying goodbye to anyone, the dense thicket of trees surrounding the diner blocking most of the wind, I muse, “So that’s what Dolly meant when she said she has a friend who has an ‘in’ with the boss.” Since there’s no one in the parking lot save for us and the various cars and trucks parked amid the gravel, I raise my hoodie and bring Lily to my chest to nurse her.
Davis laughs, kicking a rock out of my path so I don’t trip over it. “Yup.”
“Think I blew my chance at getting a job here?”
“Yup,” he repeats, smiling from ear to ear, reaching for the Ford’s passenger door handle ahead of me.
I groan. Almost to myself, I ask, “Now, how am I going to pay you back?” Dangit, I still have to get the mail from Dad so I can see how much money I owe the hospital and work out a payment plan.
Davis boosts me into the truck to sit sideways on the seat while I feed Lily. He points to my chest. “By giving Daddy a turn when we get home.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Davis! I told you, you can’t say stuff like that when we’re not at home.”
He grips my knees over my maternity leggings that feel just as tight as the day I wore them out of the hospital. He lowers his voice to a sexy whisper. “Rule number two, baby.”
He laughs when I roll my eyes, though my cheeks grow warm. “That’s two spankings. Keep it up.” He leans in close and whispers against my lips, “I dare you.”
So I nip his lower lip with my teeth.
“That’s three,” he says huskily. He abruptly backs away and discreetly readjusts his dick behind his big silver belt buckle when a group of people spills out of the diner, walking to their separate vehicles. I turn in my seat for more privacy, and Davis shuts my door, still laughing to himself as he walks around the front to hop in on his side, waiting for Lily to finish before we run our next errand.
“Four,” he says, firing up the truck to turn the heater on, directing the vents toward me.
“What? I didn’t even say anything!”
He narrows his eyes. “You were thinking it.”
“Was not!” I blink. “Wait, thinking about what?”
Davis turns in his seat, leaning back against his door as he drums his fingers on his right thigh. “About how your pants fit.”
In an awed whisper, I ask, “How did you know?”
He slides me closer across the bench seat, one hand around my back and the other shoved under my waistband to palm my bare belly pooch. “We might not have known each other long, but I know you deep down inside.” He kisses my cheek, then lightly squeezes my belly, which makes me squirm uncomfortably. “Five,” he breathes out, caressing my skin with his thumb. With his green eyes burning with desire, he adds, “And If I have my way, they’re about to get a whole lot tighter.”
Good luck with that , I think to myself, wondering why Davis is keeping up this game when he knows I can’t get pregnant yet.
Davis
Later in the afternoon, after stopping at the hardware store to purchase a porch swing and calling Wyatt to ask him for help putting it up tonight, I drop Goldie off at a small bridal boutique in town. Since Goldie doesn’t have any pumped breast milk or bottles at home, I sit in the truck a few parking spots to the side of the boutique, leaving it running for the heat as I hold Lily while she sleeps. There’s a pit in my stomach when I lean an elbow against my door and bring my phone to my ear.
My sister picks up on the fifth ring before it goes to voicemail. “Davis?”
It’s almost shocking to hear her low voice after so long. We’ve only texted sporadically since we last saw each other at Dad’s funeral. Even then, she was only in town for the day, flying back to Michigan the same night.
I try to force some enthusiasm into my voice. “Amanda, hey.”
After a beat, she sighs and asks with a hint of annoyance, “Is something wrong?” It’s a fair question since every phone call in the last three or four years has been to relay bad news about Dad’s health.
“No, no. It’s something right for once.” The pit in my stomach slowly fades as I look at Lily, her slight weight a comfort on my chest. “I’m getting married.”
“You are?” There’s an unmistakable note of surprise in her voice. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” I clear my throat, already knowing what she’s going to say, praying I’m wrong. “I was hoping you could fly in for the wedding. Maybe stay a night or two to catch up.”
Amanda sighs again, and I imagine her pacing the hallway at the hospital where she works as a radiologist, ready to be done with the conversation so she can get back to work. “When’s the wedding?”
I slump lower in my seat to get more comfortable. “Thursday.”
Her surprise grows, though there’s an edge to it. “Thursday? This Thursday? I didn’t even know you were dating anyone.”
Of course, she wouldn’t. Neither of us is all that involved in each other’s lives, and the last time I went to Michigan, about five years ago, we only met for dinner. She showed me where she worked but didn’t invite me to her home or to meet any of her friends. Her colleagues were surprised by my thicker southern accent, considering hers was all but gone except when she said certain words, like five and oil .
Amanda doesn’t sound too torn up about it when she says, “I don’t think I can take time off on such short notice.”
“I’d appreciate it if you could try so you can meet your niece.”
A door shuts in the background, muffling the noise of the people and machines around her. “You have a daughter? Since when?”
“Since about six weeks ago.” I smile, my heart swelling with pride.
“You had nine months to tell me you were going to have a baby with someone I didn’t even know you were dating, and I’m just now hearing about it?” I can’t tell if she’s hurt or pissed.
I brace myself, unwilling to lie to my sister, but already knowing how she’s going to react when I tell her, “We didn’t exactly date…and”—I hate saying this out loud—“the baby’s not mine, biologically, but she is my daughter.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She laughs, but it’s an ugly sound. “When did you even meet this woman?”
“Six weeks ago,” I answer without a hint of shame.
“Six weeks…” She trails off, then says louder with disbelief, “Six weeks? As in, right before or after she gave birth?”
“Yes. We met the day before she had Lily.”
“You’re telling me you’re marrying some woman you just met who gave birth to someone else’s baby ?” She laughs again.
“Goldie isn’t ‘some woman’. She’s the one . My soulmate.”
“Oh, give me a break, Davis. I know you aren’t the brightest,” she says condescendingly, “but I didn’t know you were dumb enough to believe this woman is your soulmate ”—she spits the word—“after six weeks of knowing each other.”
My blood is boiling too hot to say anything just yet. I knew Amanda looked down on me for being a truck driver instead of using my degree, but goddamn , I didn’t know she thought I was downright stupid.
“Let me guess, her baby daddy is long gone—if she even knows who the daddy is—and you’re nothing but the gullible bastard who took her in.” She scoffs. “Open your eyes, Davis. That baby is not your daughter. You’re nothing but a meal ticket.”
“Go fuck yourself, Amanda,” I say instead of laying into her like I want to, somehow managing to keep my voice lowered so I don’t wake Lily. I end the call, wishing I had the satisfaction that would come from slamming a wall phone down on the receiver. As it is, I toss my cell phone aside on the bench seat, ignoring it as it rings over and over again when Amanda calls me back.
Eventually, the phone goes silent, and I spend the rest of Lily’s nap rubbing my nose back and forth over her hair, taking deep breaths of her scent until I calm. I turn up the volume on the radio, softly singing Beautiful Mess right alongside Diamond Rio.
The woman formerly known as my sister can think I’m an idiot all she wants. Her loathsome opinion won’t make me doubt what I know is true to the very center of my being—Lily is my daughter, and Goldie is the one . Through and through. They’re my real family—not the girl I just happened to be raised with who took off the very minute she graduated high school, leaving me to care for our dad, who loved her as much as he loved me, all on my own.
She can rot with Colton and his psychotic mother, along with anyone else who looks down on us. Fuck the whole lot of them.