CHAPTER 34
Maddie
The second Rhonda’s arms pull me into a heartfelt embrace, I lose it.
Rhonda’s dad, a Marine, was killed in Afghanistan when she was seven.
She has two younger sisters, and Macie was only a baby at the time.
By the time Rhonda and I became best friends, her mom was working two jobs, which pretty much made Rhonda the mother in their house.
Even back then, my dad was barely running his roofing business and losing a lot at the poker tables.
We were both poor as dirt, but that didn’t stop Mom from trying to help Rhonda as much as she could.
Mom showed her all kinds of tricks for stretching her grocery budget, things like how oatmeal costs a lot less than a box of cereal, and how to make casseroles with cheaper ingredients like potatoes or zucchini. I don’t know what Rhonda would have done without Mom’s help.
At the same time, Rhonda shared several of her mother’s recipes with us. I still make most of them. Her mom’s string-bean casserole is one of my favorites.
So, even though we don’t share the same DNA, we were all one big, poor, struggling family who looked out for each other. That’s why Mom’s passing means so much to her.
Now, all those memories come flooding back with my friend’s hug, and suddenly, I can’t stop crying. Fortunately, we’re the only two in the store, so it’ll be nice to have a chance to talk.
After I tell her about Riggs and how he literally had to carry me out of the casino after dad’s call, and how he saved me from a lifetime of hating myself, and how he took care of all the funeral expenses, she’s eyeing me suspiciously. Why is she looking at me like that? “What?”
“That’s everything?”
“Everything I can think of. The funeral is on Saturday, and Riggs made sure everything is taken care of.”
“Girl, you’re giving your pussy to a billionaire. I think that’s worth mentioning. And don’t try to act like you’re not.”
I feel my cheeks flush and I’m not sure what to say.
She stares me down for a long, uncomfortable moment. “Wait a minute. Are you falling for him?” Then she throws her arms around me again. “I’m so happy for you! After what Jake did, I wasn’t sure if you’d ever give another guy a chance.”
She knows me too well, and I hug her back. At least this time I don’t feel like crying.
When she lets go, we talk about everything and even compare notes. Ash sounds like a wild man in bed, while Riggs is the more sensitive type, which is perfect for both of us.
“What are the odds?” she says. “It’s like all the planets lined up perfectly for both of us.”
“I’ve thought about that too. If it hadn’t been for that snowstorm, they never would have been there.”
“Yeah, and we just happened to be at a ski resort we never would have been at if Ms. Southerby didn’t have her honeymoon there. I mean, we never do anything like that.”
I’m nodding in agreement. “The whole thing is bizarre, like we were meant to find them.”
“I know, right?”
My stomach growls. I haven’t eaten yet and I’m hungry. “Riggs got up early to get us both breakfast from the bakery.”
“That was sweet of him.” She grabs the bag and opens it, but before I can say anything, I already see her disappointment. “I take it he didn’t know what time they open.”
That draws a chuckle from me. “We already had a conversation about that.”
We take the muffins and coffee past the rows of sewing machines, past the fabric-cutting table, and past the rows of fabrics and sewing paraphernalia, all the way to the back room where there’s a table, microwave, and fridge. If anyone comes in, we’ll hear the bell above the front door.
Heated up in the microwave, the muffins will be okay. We’re just used to strawberry-rhubarb, which is way better.
“What are these for?” Rhonda asks as she thumbs through the pants I grabbed from Riggs’s suitcase.
“I’m going to alter them. We should be able to close for lunch today, right? Business is certainly slow enough.”
She sets the pants on the table and begins folding them neatly. “I don’t see why not, but why?”
“Riggs is going to take us to lunch.”
She stops what she’s doing and turns to me with narrowed eyes. “You mean he’s going to take you to lunch.”
“Yes, but I want you to come.”
She resumes folding. “I could go for some pizza.”
“I was thinking The Fool’s Grill. He had the Duck Duck Goose and mentioned he wants to try everything while he’s here.”
“You know I love their quail pot pie,” she says.
Done folding, she takes a seat at the table while I put two both blueberry muffins in the microwave then retrieve the large tub of butter Ms. Southerby always keeps in the fridge.
When I join her with the warm muffins, she cuts one in half and lathers a healthy amount of butter on both sides, which is unusual for her.
Usually she watches what she eats to keep the figure she’s so proud of.
“What? This is obviously a cheat day,” she says when I raise a brow.
Before I can respond, her phone pings. She sets her muffin down to read the text, and a wide smile appears before she screams. “Ash is coming!”
I’m so happy for her. “That’s great!”
But her excitement is quickly replaced with an unexpected look of concern written across her face. She sets her phone down and stares at it for a moment before turning her attention to me. “Now that you’re with Riggs, do you think about it?”
Knowing exactly what she means, I inhale a deep breath reluctant to talk about it. “The part where he’s leaving in two weeks and will be gone for three months, or the part where he keeps leaving for three months after that?”
She nods with a sadness I’m too familiar with. “What’s the matter with us? We know this is a bad idea, but we’re doing it anyway.”
I don’t know what to say, so we just sit here eating our muffins in silence. No amount of butter can make either of us feel better now.
“There has to be a way to make it work,” I mutter to myself. “There has to be. We just need to figure it out.”
Holding her coffee with both hands, she stares at the small plastic flower arrangement between us, lost in thought. “Yeah,” she says softly. “There must be.”
As hard as I try, nothing comes to mind, so for now, my only solution is to put my head in the sand and try not to think about it. I guess I’ll just have to see how it goes after he leaves. Maybe three months will fly by. Maybe, but somehow, I doubt it.
I know one thing for sure. Until he leaves, I’m going to try to make the most of the time we have together.
What else can I do?