Chapter Twenty-two #2
“Dinner’s ruined, and I don’t know how to do this. I’m trying to be okay, but I’m falling apart, West.”
I pull her against my chest and just hold her, because I don’t know what the hell else to do.
“I’m so tired, and I can’t stop crying.” She punctuates her words with a sob. “I cry all the time. I cry more than my newborn.”
“Are you kiddin’ me?” I squeeze her so tight the seam of Eddie’s shirt cuts into my bicep. “You’re doing great, mama.”
“I’m not. I’m really not. My son hates me,” she wails.
I can’t help but chuckle. “Come on, now. We both know that ain’t true.”
“I just feel like I’m failing at everything.”
“Dais, from where I’m standing, all I see is Superwoman.”
She sniffs and pulls back, rolling her gaze over me again. “You look ridiculous, by the way.”
I laugh. “Yep, and you think you have it bad. You should see the way these pants are riding up my ass.”
Her shoulders shake with laughter. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh.”
“Yes, you do,” I say with a smile. “It’s okay. I’ll be the butt of your joke whenever you need cheering up.”
“I’m sorry I ruined supper.”
“Come on now. I’m sure we can salvage this.
” I grab the potholder and take the lid off the slow cooker.
A plume of smoke hits me right in the face, making me cough.
When I stop, I get a good look at the casserole, which is burned black.
Yeah, there is no coming back from ash. I make a face and replace the lid.
“I don’t care about dinner. I didn’t come here for the food, Dais. ”
Her throat bobs and she seems to think on my response. “Why did you come here?”
I raise a brow and say slowly, “Because you invited me.”
She shakes her head. “Not just tonight. You’ve been my rock. I don’t know how I would have done any of this without you.”
“Yeah, well, just don’t tell anyone. The Red River Canyon Report would have a field day with that news.” I wink, and she just shakes her head. Pretty sure she knows I’m a total pushover. “You got anything else we can eat, or you want me to order pizza?”
“I got Peach Pie for dessert.”
“Well, why the hell didn’t you lead with that?”
She opens the oven and pulls out a pie so perfect it looks like it came straight from the pages of one of those fancy cookbooks. Daisy fixes us both a plate. “Will you grab the ice cream out of the icebox for me?”
“Sure.” I head to the refrigerator and pull out a tub. There’s no brand name on it, no labels at all. Don’t tell me she fucking makes her own damn ice cream too? Is there anything this woman can’t do?
She opens the container and starts hacking away at the contents, but the silver spoon bends under the weight of its task.
I muscle my way in and take the spoon from her hands. “Here, let me.”
Spotting the pink electric kettle beside her stand mixer, I hit the knob to heat it up and grab a mug from the tree on the counter. A beat later, the jug has finished boiling. I pour the scorching hot water over the spoon and let it sit for a moment.
It slides through the ice cream like a hot knife through butter, and I serve us up a couple of scoops each.
Daisy takes her bowl to the living room—despite the table being set already—and I follow suit. I flop down on the couch beside her and shovel a great heaping spoonful into my mouth ... and then I groan. Loudly. Her eyes widen as she turns to look at me and a little chuckle escapes her lips.
“Damn, woman. Don’t tell my mama this, but your peach pie is the best I’ve ever tasted.”
“Well, it helps to have good produce to use.”
“Nope, you’re underselling yourself. Miss Dot might’ve grown those peaches, but her pie don’t taste anything like yours. You could have your own bakery.”
“You’re sweet for saying so.”
“Darlin’, the only thing sweet here is how much dough you’re gonna be rolling in once the town catches wind of this. Why aren’t you cooking for one of those fancy Dallas bakeries, instead of my family’s B&B?”
She shrugs. “I always thought I would, have my own bakery, that is. You know I won best junior baker every year at the Red River Canyon County Fair in high school? I had plans to go to a fancy pastry school in Dallas, even saved enough to pay my tuition, but Eddie’s needs always came first.”
Daisy takes a deep breath and exhales slowly.
“I put every cent I’d earned into this house and worked at his firm until he decided to move base to Dallas.
We were so flat out trying to cover the mortgage here with my savings and the little money I make from orders for the Buttermilk and my porch pickup.
When your mama offered me the position at the B&B, I couldn’t say no.
Thank you, baby Jesus, because I hate to think what might’ve happened if I couldn’t still make regular payments on this place.
Then I really would be a small-town cliché. ”
“He’s a fucking idiot, and you’re not a goddamn cliché,” I blurt.
Daisy’s brows shoot toward her hairline, and she sets her bowl down. “Yes, sir, he is.” She nods “Eddie is just one of those brilliant life decisions my grammy warned me about.”
“Dais, you couldn’t have known he was going to run off with another woman, and that says more about him than it does you.”
She smiles—and thank God I’m sitting down because it about knocks me off my goddamn feet. “Why haven’t you found a girl to settle down with yet?”
I chuckle. “’Cause I’m not sure there’s a woman alive willing to put up with my cranky ass.”
“Oh, come on, are we talking about the same West Winchester? High school quarterback, runs a successful ranch, sane, dependable, has all his ducks in a row, and doesn’t mind spending time with a lonely single mama?”
“You don’t have to be lonely, darlin’.”
“My husband just left me and I’m the mother of a newborn who cries every time I’m near. All I have is lonely.”
I narrow my eyes and study her face. The woman is a stunner. She could throw a dart in any direction and hit a hundred men willing to take Eddie’s place. “How’d we get here, Daisy-Mae?”
She shrugs. “Just lucky, I guess.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” I’ve never really given much thought to marriage and babies, but ever since Dais and I got close, it feels a little bit like I might be swallowed up by the silence of that empty house I go back to every night. The question is, what the hell am I going to do about it?