Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
BLUE
It took everything in me to keep my hands off West while we were at his parents’ house.
Every time his body would tense or his eyes would show sadness, I wanted to erase it.
I wanted to make him forget the past with something new, something good.
But that house wasn’t the place for that.
It was part of his family’s history, and I decided only permanent memories belonged there.
Once we got back to the lake house, though, we barely got the front door closed before I was in his arms, kissing him like I’d been holding my breath for hours.
I begged him to make love to me the way he had so many times before.
When we finally collapsed, tangled in the sheets, sleep found us, but it wasn’t restful.
By three in the afternoon, my stomach was staging a protest. We hadn’t bought groceries yet, so I asked if he’d come run a couple errands with me.
“More than one?” he asked, suspicion in his tone.
“Just a few groceries, because we forgot earlier, and a quick stop at the fabric store to see Tammy. The pillows have to go.”
His laugh was loud and warm, but I wasn’t joking. I tossed him one ugly pillow to carry to the truck, tucking the other two under my arms like evidence in a crime scene.
At the fabric shop, I told him he could wait in the truck, but he didn’t. He followed me inside with the pillow like it was his assigned project.
The bell over the door jingled, and a voice from the back yelled, “Welcome! Be right there.”
I set the pillows on the counter and steered West down the aisles until I found the perfect fabric. “This one,” I said, bracing for him to hate it. Instead, his fingers brushed over it, his eyes flicking up to mine with a small, approving smile.
“This will look really good,” he said.
“Much better than the orange-and-brown whatever-that-is,” I agreed, waving toward the counter.
Tammy emerged from the back, zeroed in on the pillows, and then up at us as we walked back toward the front. Her eyes narrowed at me as she realized my arm was wrapped in West’s, making her polite smile freeze, then softened in a way I didn’t like.
“I thought I recognized this pattern,” she said, grabbing West’s free hand. “This was a custom print just for you, West.”
He slid his hand from hers and gently moved me forward. “My wife wants to change the pattern,” he said with a slight tick in his jaw.
I’d never figured out what I’d done to make Tammy dislike me, but watching her frown over this was pure entertainment.
“The navy with silver flecks,” I said sweetly, changing my mind to something that wouldn’t match just to be petty. “Can you redo the pillows in that?”
Tammy’s nose wrinkled. “The brown in these,” she patted the pillow like it was sacred, “matches the couch exactly. Silver will clash.”
“Oh, I know,” I said, smiling like I was agreeing with her.
West didn’t even glance at the pillows. “Whatever she wants is what she’s going to get.”
The shock on Tammy’s face told me she either hadn’t heard the rumors yet, or she’d refused to believe them, but she forced a smile. “Well… navy and silver with a brown couch it is.”
“Perfect. How soon can you have them done?”
“If I have enough fabric, this week.”
“Great.” I looked at West. “Maybe with a pink fringe, too?”
Tammy looked like I’d slapped her and I tried not to laugh as he nodded in a way that made Tammy think he thought that was the best idea ever.
“I’ll see what I have,” Tammy mumbled.
We left with West holding my hand again, and as we got in the truck, he gave me that knowing smile. “Something tells me that wasn’t your first conversation with Tammy from the fabric store.”
“Nope. She comes into the bar sometimes. Always acts like she’s better than me just because I’m from Pecan Grove. Honestly, I just wanted the pillows out so I wouldn’t think about her every time I saw them. The clashing color is just a bonus.” I grinned. “You can change it back after the divorce.”
He didn’t laugh, but he shook his head and drove toward the Piggly Wiggly.
“You coming in here with me as well?” I asked, pausing with my hand on the door as we parked.
West gave me a dry look. “And miss seeing what happens if we run into someone else you know? Absolutely not.”
“Sorry,” I said, dripping with sarcasm. “I only have a few weeks left to enjoy this small power. Leave me alone.”
Mentioning the end of our deal wasn’t exactly a mood booster. He didn’t look amused, but he gave a short nod and held out his hand.
Inside, he pushed the cart through the produce section while I moved around him, grabbing things and tossing them in. At one point, I brushed close enough to grab his elbow, leaning in like I was sharing a scandal.
“When was the last time you were in a grocery store?” I whispered.
He snorted, low and amused. “It’s been a while for sure. I guess this is all part of my normal-man weekend.” His mouth tipped in a smirk. “You know… for the plot.”
He said it exactly the way I’d said it about his truck the other day, and it made me laugh out loud.
“I have a question,” he said as we started walking again, his eyes flicking down into the cart. “Am I cooking dinner, or are you?”
I glanced up at him. “Do you know how to cook?”
“It’s been a while, but I’m sure I could make it happen if you wanted me to.”
“How about we do it together?” I suggested.
Before he could answer, a familiar voice called out, “Do my eyes deceive me?”
I turned, grinning, as Grams headed toward us, arms open for a hug, with Gramps following behind her, pushing their cart like it was his full-time job.
“You must have superpowers I didn’t know existed,” she said, wrapping me up. “How did you get my grandson out of a suit and into a grocery store?”
“I have my ways,” I teased, squeezing her back before moving over to hug Gramps. His arm came around me, warm and firm, and I savored it. It was a simple, steady affection that felt like family.
“Will I see you two at dinner tomorrow night?” Grams asked once we’d formed our little aisle circle.
“Of course,” I answered for both of us. West nodded in agreement. “Looking forward to it. Can I bring anything?”
“Absolutely not.” Grams waved the idea away. “But if you want to come a little early, you can certainly help.”
“If we come early,” West muttered, “they’re going to make me shell butterbeans until my fingers are numb.”
Gramps shrugged, totally unapologetic, and I grinned at Grams, silently promising we’d be there early.
“Well, you two get back to your evening. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, giving us each one last hug before they headed off.
We made it to the checkout, where the cashier’s eyes went wide like we’d just walked in from another planet. Normally she’d find something to chat about with me, but today she rushed us along, bagged our groceries in record time, and sent us on our way with a polite nod.
Once we were in the truck, I glanced over.
West looked drained. Between the old house, the errands, the social run-ins, it was all catching up to him.
I could tell it was different than when he was in Atlanta, where he had his armor of control.
Even his suit would’ve given him more of a shield than jeans and a T-shirt.
I wanted to make him smile again, mend his broken heart.
So back at the house, I unloaded the groceries, then asked him to leave his phone and wallet on the table.
I tugged him toward the pier and I’m sure he thought we were going to talk, maybe dig into some heavy, soul-baring moment from our pasts.
Instead, when we reached the end, I shoved him straight into the lake.
His shout was still echoing when I jumped in after him, laughing so hard I swallowed half the water.