by Kate, Jiffy
“Dear Lord,” my grandpa begins. “Thank you for bringing our Dandelion home safely.” I smile at his use of my nickname, one I haven’t heard in so long but makes me feel warm inside. “And Lord, thank you for watching over her when she’s not here. Bless this food and the hands that prepared it. Amen.”
“Amen,” we all say in unison.
“So, tell us about New Orleans,” my nana says with a waggle of her eyebrows. New Orleans comes out like a scandalous secret and it makes me laugh.
“Well,” I begin, taking a piece of meatloaf and a scoop of mashed potatoes, feeling like I could literally eat the entire loaf. It’s been a long day and I haven’t had a full meal since last night. “It’s great,” I finally continue. “The people are so nice and the city is just full of history and culture...and life.” I feel my face light up as I describe my new city.
“We should go, George,” she says, nudging my grandpa who grunts and takes a scoop of peas. “I’ve always wanted to go to Bourbon Street.” Again with the waggling eyebrows and seductive tone coming from my nana who sports purple hair, but in a lighter, silvery shade, I laugh.
“Nana!” I exclaim, trying to imagine my her on Bourbon Street with all the half-dressed, drunk people.
“What?” she asks, practically offended that I’d be shocked about this. “You think your nana doesn’t know how to let her hair down?”
“Oh, I’m sure,” I say, giving her a wicked smile across the table. Actually, if I had to pinpoint where my wanderlust came from, I’d probably have to attribute it to her. She’s always been fun and adventurous. The older she gets, the more she doesn’t give a shit about what people think or say. I really love that about her.
“We should all go to New Orleans,” my mama says, looking across the table at my daddy who nods as he takes another bite of food. He and my grandpa are men of few words, and even fewer words when there’s work to be done or food to eat.
Priorities.
“I’ve been wanting to meet that sweet boss of yours,” she sing-songs, noticeably avoiding my dad’s glance in her direction. If I had to guess, he’s on to her little long-distance crush.
“He tried to send you some bread pudding,” I tell her. “But I didn’t check any luggage and it wouldn’t have made it past security.”
“You tell him thank you for even thinking of doing that...so sweet,” she mutters, smiling fondly down into her plate of half-eaten meatloaf and mashed potatoes.
When we’ve finished eating and the dishes are all washed and dried, my grandpa and nana make the short drive to their house with promises of seeing us tomorrow.
“I’m turning in too,” my mama sighs. “We’ll have plenty of time to catch up tomorrow. I have an entire day of baking planned for us.”
“Sounds perfect,” I tell her, standing in the doorway of the living room admiring the Christmas tree. “It’s so pretty,” I whisper.
“I missed you being here to help me with it,” she says, walking up and wrapping an arm around my waist. “I sure am happy you’re here.”
“Me too, Mama.”
I watch as she walks to her bedroom down the hall. After she’s gone, I pull out my phone from my backpack, snap a pic of the Christmas tree, and type out a quick message to Shaw.
Me: The only thing missing is you.
A few seconds later, I add on Good night.
Glancing at the time, I’m sure he won’t see it for a while. It’s only ten o’clock and the bar will be open for at least two more hours. Turning toward the stairs, I feel my phone vibrate, not with an incoming text but a call. I take the steps two at a time until I’m in my bedroom and breathing heavily. “Hello?”
“Hey.” His smooth, deep voice pours over me like hot caramel on a scoop of vanilla ice cream.
“Aren’t you working?”
“Why are you out of breath?”
Our questions come simultaneously and I let out a quick laugh. “Ran up the stairs so I didn’t disturb my parents.”
“Already in bed, huh?”
“Farm life,” I say with a huff, like that explains everything.
“Right,” Shaw replies and I wish I could see him.
“I thought you wouldn’t get my text until after the bar closed, sorry I—”
He lets out a soft laugh, interrupting me. “I’ve been cooped up in the office all evening. Paulie sent me here because he said I’m obviously not on peopling terms tonight.”
“Shaw O’Sullivan not on peopling terms?” I gasp in mock shock. “Well, I’ve never.”
His husky laugh sends shivers down my spine. I love the way it vibrates every cell in my body when we’re together. I fall down on my bed, which looks exactly like it did since eleventh grade when I got a room makeover for my birthday—yellow quilt, paisley curtains, a big fluffy pink rug in the middle of the room. It’s colorful, just the way I wanted it.
For a split second, I try to imagine Shaw here, with me and I feel an intense blush creep up my cheeks, even though no one can see me or know what I’m thinking. It just feels naughty and dirty.
God, the things I’d do to him.
“Avery?”
“Yeah?”
“I miss you,” he says with a heavy sigh. “I got too used to seeing you every day and being with you. I’m trying not to be a pussy about this, but I don’t like it when you’re gone.”
My heart squeezes.
“Maybe you can come with me next time,” I tell him quietly, like I’m trying not to disturb the pictures of Audrey Hepburn and Marilyn Monroe on the wall across from me.
“I’d like that.”
“Good.”
After a few seconds of silence, he adds, “Pretty Christmas tree.”
“It is...but I’m not sure it’s prettier than ours. Although, I might be a little biased.”
He sighs again and I eat it up, devouring every word, sound, emotion that’s coming across the line. Just a few days. I can be without him for a few days. But I don’t want to.
“Call me tomorrow?” he asks.
“You bet.”
“I better go check on the guys.” I hear some rustling of papers and then a few seconds later and increase in noise. He must have opened his office door. The sounds of the bar pour into our conversation and I smile. I miss that place.
“I think when I get back, I’m coming back to work for you...at least one day a week. I miss it too much.”
He grunts, sounding a bit like displeasure. “Uh, we’ll discuss that when you’re home.”
My back goes a little straight at that, but I let it go. “Okay.”
“Call me tomorrow,” he says again.
“Okay.”
“I love you.”
Those three words climb their way inside my head and wiggle down into my heart, making me feel like the Grinch as it seems to grow three sizes.
“I love you,” I tell him, feeling every inch of those words in return.
The next morning, the smell of bacon and pancakes greets me and lets me know I’m home. Everything about the light filtering into my room to the sounds of the old house make me smile. I do miss this place when I’m gone, but not as much as I miss Shaw.
The thought has me grabbing my phone from the bedside table and smiling down at our text messages from last night. When my mama calls up the stairs, I set the phone down and shake my head.
“Are you gonna sleep your life away?” my mama calls, forcing me to set the phone back down on the nightstand and smile. Some things never change.
“Good morning,” my mama’s cheerful voice sings from the stove as I make my presence known. She’s already dressed for the day and flipping a pancake onto a mound that’s already prepared beside her. When she turns to look at me, she smiles brightly. “So good to have you home.”
“So good to be here,” I reply, stealing a pancake and leaving behind a kiss on her cheek.
“Eat some bacon, too,” she instructs, forcing a plate into my hands with two thick slices.
I grab an extra one and instead of her swatting me away, she smiles even wider. Feeding people makes my mama happy.
“Thanks for breakfast,” I tell her after I clean my plate and start for the sink to do the dishes.
“Go wash up,” she instructs taking the empty plate from me. “We’ve got a lot to get done...and we need to talk.”
The way she tacks on that last we need to talk has my stomach turning. Her tone and change in demeanor can only mean one thing.
My daddy ratted me out.
Chapter 32
Shaw
“Thinking of making the Santa look permanent?”
I look up and watch my sister and Paulie sit down at my table. “What are you talking about?”
Paulie laughs while Sarah grabs a napkin and tries to wipe at my beard. I quickly take it from her and roll my eyes. Beard or not, eating a beignet at Café Du Monde is a messy business. You can do your very best to be as careful as possible but it will all be for nothing. As soon as you take a bite or hell, breathe out through your nose, that delicious powdered sugar is going to get all over you.
“Fuck off, both of you. It doesn’t do any good to wipe my face in between bites; I was waiting to be finished before cleaning myself up.”
“Hey, it’s Christmas Eve. Watch your mouth,” my sister scolds.
I respond by rolling my eyes again and flipping Paulie off while he hides his snicker behind a cup of café au lait.
“What are you two up to today?” I ask. Although, I assume Sarah and Paulie have been seeing each other for quite a while, it’s only been recently that they’ve felt comfortable enough to be around me in a more than friendly manner. They’re both adults and can do whatever they want but it’s still kinda weird seeing them like this. Ultimately, though, if they’re happy, I’m happy.
“Just doing some last-minute Christmas shopping. What about you?” Sarah’s plate of fresh beignets is delivered and she takes one before passing the plate to Paulie.
“Same. I’d like to get Avery a couple more gifts, and I also need to go speak to Maverick at the Blue Bayou.”
“Oh, yeah? You have a new project in mind?”
Maverick Kensington is a well-known jack of all trades here in the Quarter. He does great handyman and contract work but he’s also a real estate genius. It’s the latter trait I’d like to speak to him about today.
“Well, yes and no,” I hedge, dipping my finger in some of the powdered sugar before licking it. “I’d like to talk to him about some real estate stuff.”
Sarah and Paulie share a curious look before Paulie speaks up. “You planning a remodel or expansion?”
“No, nothing like that.” I take a deep breath and admit something I haven’t even mentioned to Avery. “I’m thinking about selling my house.”
Sarah lets out a deep breath. “Wow, Shaw. That’s a big step. Are you sure you’re ready for that?”
“I know I’m ready for Avery to be in my life permanently and I’d like for us to start fresh. I don’t want her feeling like she has to tiptoe around the house, afraid of doing anything that might mess with Liz’s memory.”
“Has she mentioned feeling that way?”
“No, but I know she wouldn’t say anything even if she did feel it. I want to embrace this new lease on life that I have and buy something that’s for both of us.”
“Well, I think that’s great, I really do.” Sarah pats my knee. “I love that you’re thinking of Avery and what you both need to make your relationship work. But, Shaw, you own a house in the Garden District. Do you know how hard those are to come by? Why don’t you rent it out or turn it into an Airbnb or something? One of these days, the two of you might need a bigger place.” Her eyes twinkle when she says this and I can’t stop my smile from forming.
I want that. I want a family with Avery so fucking bad I can almost taste it. I know it’s too soon to be thinking that way, but I’m no spring chicken, so whenever she’s ready, I’m ready.
“I’ve thought of that and yeah, having a private backyard is great for a family, but right now, I think we need something closer to the Quarter. Later, if we need something bigger, we’ll move again.” I shrug my shoulders to emphasize my lack of worry because I’m not worried. Not one little bit. Avery is my future and I find great comfort and contentment in that. It’s something I haven’t felt in a very long time, so this time around, I’m going to embrace it fully.
After my chat with Sarah and Paulie, I make my way toward the Blue Bayou Hotel. As I’m walking through Jackson Square, a painting catches my eye. The swirls of color making out a picture of the Square give the canvas texture and movement and I can’t stop staring at it. It’s a beautiful representation of the part of New Orleans Avery and I both love the most, so it’s only right that it be hung wherever we end up living together. Without another thought, I pay the artist for the painting and excitedly watch as he carefully wraps it in brown paper.
I can’t wait for Avery to open it.
“Hey, Shaw!” Carys greets as I step inside the lobby of the quaint hotel. “I was actually gonna call you later and ask a favor, but you’ve saved me a step.”
“What can I do for you?”
I wait for her to ask her favor while she chews on the inside of her cheek. “Well, now I kinda wish I was talking to you on the phone because I feel bad asking.”
“What difference does it make if you ask me in person or on the phone?”
“If I ask you over the phone, I don’t have to see the disappointed look you’re going to give me and you don’t have to see how awkward I look when I ask.”
“I’m really not following you, Carys, but if I promise to not make a face of any kind, will you just ask me what you need to ask?”
“Ok, fine.” She closes her eyes tightly and blurts out her question. “We’re having a party here on New Year’s Eve and we need a couple of bartenders. You wouldn’t have to stay long...I just need a couple of people to run a cash bar then, pass out champagne at midnight. But I know it’s last minute and I should’ve asked you first to begin with and I know you have your own business to run, so it’s totally okay for you to say no.”
She opens one eye to peek up at me and I keep my word by not reacting with any kind of expression. When I feel like she’s suffered and waited long enough for an answer, I reply. “Sure, I’ll do it.”
“You will?”
“Of course, I will. I have enough employees to spare, so it shouldn’t be a problem to cover my bar and yours.”
“Oh, my gosh,” she gushes in relief. “Shaw, thank you so much. I owe you one!”
I wave my hand at her to blow off her words. “Don’t worry about it and don’t be worried about asking me for help. We help each other out, remember? Speaking of, is that boyfriend of yours around? I need to ask him for a favor.”
“He’s out back, putting up more lights in the courtyard. Go on back. I’m sure he’d love the break.”
“Thanks.”
I find Maverick in the courtyard just like Carys said, hanging lights as high as he can reach while being on a ladder by himself. I swear, he and Carys are cut from the same stubborn cloth.
“Let me help you with that,” I call out, jogging over to him after laying my painting on a nearby chaise lounge.
He looks down at me from under the arm that’s holding a string of lights. “Oh, hey, man. Thanks.”
We spend the next few minutes hanging the remaining lights in silence so that, I’m assuming, he can concentrate on what he’s doing. I don’t mind. Sometimes it’s just nice to work without talking. That’s how I used to do it, before Avery came along, of course.
I can’t help but smile, thinking about the ways she’s touched my life in such a short amount of time. And, I know it’s selfish of me to think this, but I really wish she was here with me instead of Oklahoma with her parents. I wasn’t prepared to miss her this much.
Once Maverick has finished hanging the lights
and has put aside the ladder and tools, he hands me a bottle of water and motions for me to sit in one of the courtyard chairs.
“To what do I owe this honor, Mr. O’Sullivan? Surely, Carys didn’t call you over here to help me.”
“Nah, I stopped by to talk with you about something I’ve been thinking about and she used the opportunity to ask me to help.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Well, I’m thinking about selling my house in the Garden District and buying something in here in the Quarter. I thought you might know of something available.”
He smiles knowingly at me as he sets his empty water bottle down by his feet. “As a matter of fact, I do. My business partner, Shep, and I have been working on renovating a building nearby and turning it into a duplex. Each apartment will have two stories with updated everything while keeping that classic New Orleans style. Does that sound like anything you’d be interested in?”
“It sounds fucking perfect, actually. When will a unit be available?”
“We’re hoping for mid-January, early February at the latest. I could open one up and let you check it out sometime next week,” he says, still eyeing me with a speculative smile, like he wants to ask more, but he doesn't. “Would that work for you?”
I try to ignore the excited buzz under my skin and smooth back my hair. “It works so well, I’m tempted to think it’s too good to be true,” I tell him honestly.
“Then don’t think of it as being too good to be true, think of it as being meant to be.”
Meant to be.
Yeah, I like the sound of that.
Chapter 33
Avery
“Why didn’t you tell me, Avery?” my mama asks, her eyes and voice both watery as we stand at the kitchen island, waiting on our pies to finish baking. Over flour and Crisco and pumpkin, I laid out every dirty, ugly, hurtful detail of mine and Brant’s last night together, as well as the time leading up to that night.
She knows everything.
And the way she’s looking at me with such extreme pain in her eyes makes me think she’s feeling every slap and cut and bruise.