Good Times

by Kate, Jiffy

“They were both being stubborn,” CeCe comments, closing her eyes and letting the breeze blow through her dark hair. “I was about to stage an intervention, but they finally figured their shit out.”

  Carys and I laugh while Avery tries not to smile.

  “Kind of like I was getting ready to lock you and Finley in a closet,” CeCe says.

  I gasp. “What?”

  “You heard me,” she mutters. “I thought the two of you were never going to admit what’s there between you.”

  “It’s really romantic,” Carys says dreamily. “And Finley is so sweet… and that sax.”

  “Don’t even get me started on his sax,” I say, feeling an immediate heat creep up my cheeks.

  “Actually,” CeCe says, sitting up. “Do tell.”

  “God, you’re awful.”

  “You’re the one who brought up his sax,” CeCe teases and my cheeks heat up even more.

  “I can’t handle talking about Finley and his sax right now.”

  They laugh, but all give me understanding, sympathetic nods.

  When the streetcar stops, we step off and the cutest little cafe is sitting on the corner across the street with Crescent Moon painted on the side of the building.

  Walking in, I can tell from the aroma alone this will become a favorite. Then, a man in suspenders and a bowtie steps out from the kitchen with a wide smile on his face.

  “Avery!”

  “Hey, Wyatt,” she replies, meeting him halfway for a hug. “I brought my friends for dinner.”

  He steps around Avery, grabbing a few menus. “It’s about damn time.”

  “We were just here for Sunday pancakes,” she scoffs.

  Laughing, he shows us to a corner table, giving us a gorgeous view of the houses and large oak trees that adorn the Garden District. “I meant without that stick-in-the-mud Shaw tagging along,” he teases.

  “I’ll be sure to tell him you said that.”

  Wyatt gives us a mischievous grin. “Please do.”

  We let Avery order for us and none of us are disappointed. The food is delicious, not better or worse than Lagniappe, just different. Where Lagniappe has showmanship and flair, Crescent Moon has comfort and casual with added bits of quirkiness.

  The bread pudding with rum sauce is to die for.

  Avery tells us the story about when she first arrived in New Orleans and came here for a job. Initially, Wyatt sent her to Shaw. He told her later, he just had a feeling—his gut told him to send her there, so he did. Avery says it’s, hands down, the best thing that ever happened to her, kind of like when I accepted the job at the gallery.

  “Avery?” a woman says, walking up to our table.

  She’s beautiful. Not like run-of-the-mill beautiful, like striking, stop-you-in-your-tracks beautiful.

  I’m as straight as they come and completely in love with Finley Lawson, but if someone was going to make me switch sides, it’d be her. Her sleek, satin-looking black hair and her vibrant green eyes would be enough, but add in she’s very tall, there’s absolutely no chance she’d pass you by on the street and you wouldn’t notice her.

  “Ever?” Avery asks, her eyes cutting to us and then back to the woman standing over us with a bright, white smile.

  Seriously, there’s not one thing about this woman that isn’t perfect.

  “What are you doing here?” Avery asks, suddenly sounding a bit nervous as she stands and embraces the woman who laughs lightly, hugging her back.

  “Well, they do have the best bread pudding in town.”

  Avery laughs. “That they do.” Turning back to the table, she makes introductions. “Guys, this is Everly Davenport. Everly, this is Carys, CeCe, and Georgette,” she says, pointing to each of us.

  There’s a moment of awkwardness that passes before Avery laughs again and then continues. “Everly is a wedding planner.”

  She lets that marinate for a second, but that’s about all it takes. Carys is the first one to make the connection. “Oh, my God. You’re finally doing it?”

  “Congratulations,” CeCe says, standing to hug Avery. “I wondered if you were going to pop out another kid before you finally made it official.”

  Everly gives Avery an apologetic smile. “Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to spill the beans.”

  Avery waves her off. “It’s fine. I was actually going to tell them soon anyway.”

  “This is so exciting,” I tell her, standing to get in on the hugs being passed around.

  “You should bring them with you to our next planning session,” Everly suggests.

  Excitement bubbles up inside me. I love weddings. I love love, in general. But there’s something magical about weddings, two people pledging their lives to each other.

  “That’d be great,” Avery agrees. “You know I’m horrible at making decisions. I swear I’m still suffering from pregnancy brain.”

  “Maybe you’re pregnant again,” CeCe teases. Although, I’m not sure she’s teasing. She’s pretty serious about Avery and Shaw having another baby for her to be a godmother to.

  Avery groans, tossing her head back. “Why do you keep trying to impregnate me?”

  “You make such pretty babies and I love being a godmother.”

  “Why don’t you and Shep make a baby?” I ask, turning the tables.

  CeCe grows serious and I’m worried I’ve hit a nerve or maybe they’ve been trying without success. Just as I’m afraid I’ve said something wrong, CeCe finally says, “He just coerced me into marrying him. Let me enjoy this first. I’m sure he’ll come up with some reason I need to give him a baby, but for now, I’m enjoying the practice.”

  We laugh, Everly included. “Well,” she says, brushing her long, dark hair over her shoulder. “I can plan baby showers too. And if you’re looking for love, I can help with that too.” She slips a matte black card out of her bag and lays it on the table between us. There’s no logo or address, just a phone number in gold lettering.

  “See you next week,” Everly says, giving Avery a wink. “Ladies, it was a pleasure.”

  It’s so very secretive and exclusive feeling.

  “She’s…” Carys starts and we all just nod in agreement.

  Intriguing.

  Striking.

  “She’s great,” Avery says. “We haven’t got too far into planning, but so far, she’s been a god-send. Shaw wants to have a big traditional wedding because this is my only wedding… yada, yada, yada. But I don’t want that. I know he’s not into big crowds and he hates for people to make a fuss. Besides, I don’t want that either. I want something small and intimate. Everly has been great at helping us find a happy medium.”

  “It’s going to be great,” CeCe says, reaching over and squeezing Avery’s hand.

  She smiles and Wyatt must’ve overheard our conversation, because about that time he shows up with a bottle of champagne.

  “This is on the house,” he says, popping the cork with finesse and then pouring four glasses. “I feel like I should get a commission on this wedding.” He winks and Avery smiles, shaking her head as she brings the champagne flute to her lips.

  We end up closing down the small restaurant. When it’s just the four of us and the waitstaff, who are now cleaning, we take that as our cue to call it a night. Wyatt insists we can stay, but it’s late and Shaw has already texted Avery to check on her. Maverick and Shep have each called once. I check my phone, but there’s nothing from Finley.

  My heart sinks a little at that, but I’m not surprised.

  We’ve been on different schedules since he’s been gone and I know he’ll text or call when he gets a chance.

  After we hop off the streetcar at Canal Street, the walk back to the French Quarter is nice as we enjoy the evening air and make light conversation. When we get close to the Blue Bayou, we stop and say goodnight to Carys.

  Maverick is waiting at the corner to walk her home. He waves, calling out his greetings, and then CeCe, Avery, and I continue on the short distance home.
>
  “Goodnight,” I call back as I cross the road.

  “Goodnight,” CeCe and Avery reply, heading into their respective houses.

  When I walk up the front steps, I expect King to greet me at the side gate like he always does, but he’s not there. “King?” I call out, a hint of worry seeping in.

  His bark greets me, but it’s not from outside, it’s from inside.

  Knowing Shep didn’t have a key, I’m confused as I turn the key in the lock and open the door.

  But then all confusion and worry fade away as Finley and King greet me in the foyer.

  Dropping my bag to the floor, I throw myself into Finn’s arms. His deep laugh and familiar scent soak into my body, filling every space left vacant due to his absence. “God, I missed you,” I tell him, burying my face in his neck and breathing deeply.

  “Oh, baby.” He sighs, holding tighter as he lifts me off my feet. “You have no fucking idea how much I’ve missed you… it’s been killing me. I’ve been so torn,” he murmurs, stroking my hair with one hand while the other cradles my hips, holding me to him.

  Leaning back, our noses brushing, Finn presses his lips to mine. The kiss is slow and savoring, each caress full of intention and unspoken words—I’ve missed you, welcome home, never leave me again.

  “Upstairs,” I whisper.

  Without another word, Finn turns and carries me up the stairs, shutting the door behind him as he steps into the bedroom and we make up for lost time.

  Unlike the kisses in the foyer, our actions in the bedroom are hurried and quick. The intense need for each other fills the room. We don’t speak, just act, each undressing the other. There will be time for slow and sweet later—I’m hoping for forever—but for now, we obviously both need this—raw and real and us.

  “Scoot up,” Finn instructs, guiding me further up the bed and settling between my thighs. Gripping my hips, his eyes lock with mine as he slides into me. We both sigh.

  “Welcome home,” I tell him, sliding my hands up his arms and loving the feel of his strong biceps as they flex when he begins to move.

  For a few minutes, we watch as he slides in and out, reconnecting our bodies and our hearts.

  “I missed this,” he says, his breaths starting to come harder and faster as his speed increases. “But most of all, I missed this.” Placing a hand over my heart and then guiding it up into my hair, he draws us closer together, our breaths mingling as we inch toward the edge of ecstasy.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Finley

  “I don’t want to get out of bed,” Jette murmurs, snuggling closer to me, her warm naked body making me want to do anything but what she mentioned.

  However, it’s not Sunday, so our options are limited.

  “If we hurry,” I tell her, leaning forward to nip at her ear with my teeth, which causes her to squirm and in turn increases the size of my morning wood. “We can have a quick fuck in the shower.”

  Rolling over, Jette’s eyes go wide in delight. “Race you.”

  A flash of her breast and amazing ass are all I see before she disappears into the bathroom. When I hear the water turn on, I smile to myself, wondering how I got so damn lucky.

  You know what? I’m not going to question that anymore. Instead, I’m just going to appreciate the good stuff in my life, never taking a moment for granted.

  “Finn!” she yells.

  So impatient.

  “I’m coming!” I call back.

  “No, you’re not… and neither am I!”

  Chuckling, I roll out of bed.

  Such a smart ass.

  Sexiest smart ass I’ve ever met and the only one I want to spend the rest of my life with.

  After the best shower sex I’ve had since yesterday, Jette and I dress and go about our morning routine—sharing the sink, pouring to-go cups of coffee, feeding King. We’ve fallen right back into the pattern we’d started before everything got so crazy and messed up.

  Something that changed while I was gone?

  Our dog now wears shoes and goes to work.

  I can’t help laughing every morning when Jette slips them on King’s feet. He always looks at me like, can’t you help me out here? First, my balls get cut off and now I have to wear these fucking shoes?

  To which I rub his ears, silently telling him we have to pick our battles. And I always slip him an extra treat before we depart for the day.

  Since I’m no longer working at Good Times every night, we all have similar schedules. Jette and King spend their days at the gallery and I’m usually at the studio. When I got back from Odessa, Lola had work lined up for me. I’ll be busy for the foreseeable future, and according to Lola, for as long as I want it.

  She’s really become one of my closest friends in New Orleans. She and Bo insist on giving Jette and me season tickets for the New Orleans Revelers season that will be starting in a couple of weeks. After much coercion, I think we’re going to take her up on it.

  “Good morning,” Shep calls out, waving as he slides into his Porsche 911. A lot of things about Shep have changed over the years, but he still loves that car.

  Jette waves. “He must have an early morning meeting.”

  “Yeah,” I agree, pulling King’s leash tighter as Shep drives by. “He said something yesterday about not being at the coffee shop today.”

  We’ve all been meeting up for coffee most mornings.

  Most evenings we have an invite for something—dinner, drinks, an art show, concerts. But this weekend, Shaw and his sister, Sarah, have invited everyone to the cooking school for a big Irish feast to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day.

  “I love you,” I say, leaning over to place a kiss on Jette’s blonde curls.

  She smiles up at me, the day and the moment feeling so ordinary, yet perfect. “I love you too.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Georgette

  “Welcome,” Shaw says, raising a glass as everyone finds a seat at the long table Sarah and Avery have set. It’s really beautiful, overflowing with food that smells amazing and all of the familiar faces I’ve come to know and love since moving to this city.

  Shaw smiles down at Avery, who has a sleeping Shae strapped to her chest. The admiration and awe he has on his face every time he looks at her and their baby is so evident.

  I want that.

  All of it, and more, with Finley.

  “We’re so happy to have you all here,” he says, glancing around the table. “You’re friends who’ve become family and we feel blessed to have you all in our lives.” Pausing, he leans down and places a kiss on Avery’s temple. “We’ve brought you all here today to celebrate life and love and a little bit of Irish luck.”

  He winks and raises his glass. “May the best day of your past be the worst day of your future.”

  “Sláinte!” Sarah toasts.

  We all follow suit, raising our glasses and toasting our friends who’ve become family, as Shaw so eloquently put it. When someone clinks a knife against a glass at the other end of the table, we all turn.

  That’s when I see Jules stand. My smile is immediate. It took me a couple of months of being in New Orleans before I finally properly met him, but now that we’ve been introduced, I’m smitten.

  He works at Blue Bayou, but he’s also in law school and moonlights at a drag club not too far from here. A true renaissance man and someone I definitely hope to spend more time with.

  “If I may,” he says, glancing across to Shaw who nods and gives him the floor. Clearing his throat, he gives a saucy smirk before beginning. “A big thank you to Sarah, Shaw, and Avery…which would be so much easier to just say the O’Sullivans, if Shaw would ever make an honest woman out of her…”

  “Hey,” Shaw says, holding up his hands in defense. “I’m working on it.”

  “Oh?” Jules asks, turning an ear his way as he holds up a hand to hear better. “Is there an announcement you’d like to make?”

  “We set a date,” Avery says, beaming a
nd smiling over at me and then to CeCe and Carys. “This summer and you’re all invited. Clear your calendars.”

  Everyone cheers, but Jules quiets the crowd.

  “If you need a best man,” he says, winking. “Or woman.”

  “Get on with it,” CeCe demands. “We can’t let this amazing food get cold.”

  I glance over to see Sarah, smiling as she basks in the moment. She’s a bit reserved, like Shaw, but she’s so warm and friendly. I would love to get to know her better. Maybe I’ll sign up for a cooking class and add some new, local recipes to my repertoire of grilled cheese and PB&Js.

  “Fine,” Jules huffs, enjoying his spotlight, as usual. “A toast.” Clearing his voice once more for dramatic flair, he pretends to be thinking and starts with, “Money in your pocket, beer in your cup…poke her in the butt, and you won’t knock her up.”

  The group erupts in laughter, Avery hides her face and shields baby Shae’s ears, even though he’s not quite old enough to know how dirty his Uncle Jules is.

  “No, no,” Jules says, waving it off. “That’s not the one…” Pausing, he thinks some more and then holds a finger in the air. “Got it. Achem…Here’s to those we love the best, we love them best when they’re undressed.”

  A few groans echo around the room, but Jules soldiers on, making me laugh and press into Finn’s chest as he chuckles. The deep rumble in my ear is almost as soothing as his hand on my waist.

  “We love them sitting, standing, lying,” Jules continues. “If they had wings, we’d love them flying. And when they’re dead, buried, forgotten—we’ll dig them up and fuck them rotting!”

  “Oh, my god, Jules!” Carys exclaims, pulling on his arm to make him sit down while the entire table loses their shit.

  “Wait,” he says, fighting Carys off. “This is the real one!”

  “It’s your last chance,” Maverick warns, tears streaming down his face.

  “Here’s to all my friends and lovers. May all your ups and downs be under the covers!”

  “Take his wine away,” someone yells.

  While everyone at the table gets themselves under control, platters and bowls begin to pass. I glance around, soaking in the moment. A year ago, even six months ago, I couldn’t have imagined my life could be this full and content.