“I’m sorry. You’re right.”
I didn’t want to hear that he was sorry. I never wanted to hear those words from him again. I brushed past him. “I need to go.”
Thankfully, he didn’t try to stop me from leaving. I backed my car out of the driveway and swung onto the road, giving him one final look before I drove away. He was still standing in the same spot where I’d left him. And God help me, I still loved that man. But letting him into my life again was dangerous.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Jude
Three days. That was how long I held off before I caved and showed up at her door like a lost puppy. Lila’s cottage on River Road was nestled in a grove of trees and sat on a limestone bluff. Hanging flower baskets flanked the front door, the blooms a riot of color—purple and red and fuchsia. Two Adirondack chairs sat on the front porch and I wondered if she sat out here and stargazed. From her front porch, you could catch a glimpse of the river through the cypress trees lining the riverbank. It was peaceful here, the air scented with pine and the cedar of the shingles on her cottage. The scent of cedar would forever remind me of those nights lying on the cedar-shingled roof with Lila. When I inhaled deeply, it smelled like home.
I knocked on the front door. Hopefully she wouldn’t slam it in my face.
I waited a few seconds then lifted my hand to knock again. The door swung open and she was covered from head to toe in flour. I grinned at her.
“Did you get in a fight with the Pillsbury Dough Boy?”
Looking down at her flour-covered T-shirt, she laughed. “Noah and I are making homemade pizza.”
I groaned. Actually groaned. “Need some help?”
“No.” But she opened her door wider, an invitation to come inside. “You do know I’m a florist, right?” she asked when I thrust the wildflowers into her hands. I’d picked half a field of wildflowers and tied them with string. It made me feel like I was fifteen years old again.
“Wildflowers picked by me are your favorite.”
“They used to be,” she said. “Wildflowers picked by Noah are my favorite now.”
I could live with that. Much better to have a four-year-old rival than a thirty-year-old asshole cowboy vying for position. I told myself that I wouldn’t think about Brody. Whenever I did, I tortured myself with the vision of them together. Which fucked with my head.
So I shoved his memory out of the way—there wasn’t room for both of us—and followed her inside the house.
Noah grinned at me from his spot at the island in the cheerful sunshine yellow kitchen. He was standing on a stepstool so he could reach the granite counter. “Hi Uncle Jude. Did you bring me a present?”
“People are not required to bring presents every time they show up at your door,” Lila said then muttered under her breath. “Even when they’re uninvited.”
I ignored her little jab and focused on Noah, my number one ally. I had a man in my corner and I wasn’t above bribery to keep him on my side. “Of course I did. It’s for after dinner.”
He jumped off the stool and took the plastic bag from my hand, opening the handles to look inside. His whole face lit up. “Ice cream!”
“Nothing says love like Diabetes,” Lila said, filling mason jars with water to hold all the wildflowers. “You need to stop bribing us with sugar.”
Love. I grinned. “Is it working?”
“No.” Her back was turned to me so I couldn’t see her face but to me, no sounded a lot like yes. She set the three mason jars of wildflowers on the windowsill, and I nudged her aside and turned on the tap.
“I’ll have to try another tactic then.” I washed my hands at the farmhouse sink, the window above it affording me a view of her garden, the last rays of evening sun painting it bronze. Flowers and plants thrived, thanks to her green thumb. Beyond her little garden a tire swing hung from the branch of an oak tree, and next to that was a wood climbing frame and a small shed. I dried my hands on a kitchen towel and turned around to face her and Noah.
“Make yourself at home.”
“I will.” I rubbed my hands together. “Where’s my dough?”
“You weren’t even invited. You can watch us.”
“You can have some of mine.” Noah pinched off a two-inch piece of dough and set it in front of me.
“You’re far too generous. I bet I can turn this dough into a twelve-inch pizza.” I indicated with my hands how big that was.
Noah looked at the dough skeptically. “How?” he asked, intrigued.
“Magic.” I stole Lila’s dough out from under her and started kneading it on the floured surface.
“Hey.” Lila swatted my arm and tried to get it back but I nudged her aside.
“Back off, Minnie Mouse. You know you love to watch me knead it. You love to watch my arms flex and my big hands work the dough.”
“Stop it,” she said, laughing. “Seriously. You need to stop.”
Noah was too busy bashing the dough with a rolling pin to pay us any attention.
“Did your mommy teach you how to spin it?” I asked Noah after I’d pressed my dough into a disc shape.
He shook his head. “Can you teach me?”
“Sure can. It’s all about the rotation.”
“Stop showing off,” Lila said as I tossed and spun the dough in the air, catching it on the backs of my fists. But she was laughing again. It was so good to hear her laugh. So fucking incredible to
