Page 24 of Fifty-Fifty

His lips tilt up on one side when his gaze lands on my own.

“Where you guys going?”

Mac answers for me in her sweet little voice. “Church.” She’s wearin’ a hand-me-down dress that Miss Betty from the coffee shop dropped off a few months ago. I ain’t sure where she got it, but I couldn’t have been more grateful. It’s got little yellow flowers all over the dress, and Mac thinks she’s pretty darn beautiful any time I put it on her.

Noah nods his head knowingly. “Of course. I was wondering why you weren’t down here bright and early like normal. Busy getting ready, I see.” He scans me all over again, makin’ me wanna slap him upside the head with these damn butterflies attackin’ my stomach.

“We sure are.”

I know it’s rude of me not to extend an invitation that he join us, but I don’t think I could handle an hour of sittin’ next to him, either. Not when he’s so close, yet so far.

“Well…” He shifts awkwardly onto the heels of his feet before stepping out of the way. “Have fun, then.”

I nod my head in return before dashin’ down the rest of the steps with Mac on my hip.

Church is, well, it’s somethin’ else today. The sermon is all about forgiveness and turnin’ the other cheek. A topic I’m all too familiar with, yet it seems as foreign as the moon to a girl like me. The entire time I’m sittin’ on pins and needles, waitin’ to be struck down by lightnin’, but it never comes.

I ain’t sure if I’m imaginin’ things or not, but I can’t help but notice the subtle glances toward me and Mac the entire time, makin’ me feel like I got ants crawlin’ along my arms.

Afterward, we mosey on down to Lover’s Landing. I need a cup of coffee and a piece of pumpkin bread. Stat. This place holds so many bittersweet memories that my hands shake as I clasp the handle before swingin’ open the door.

My eyes scan the quaint lil’ coffee shop, searchin’ for a vacant table because I don’t feel like truckin’ Mac home with my hands full, but I come up empty. I shoulda known that moseyin’ would’ve only gotten my name on the waitin’ list. It’s Sunday brunch after church, and we take that very seriously in the South. Even if it’s only coffee and pumpkin bread.

When my gaze lands on the back of a dark head of hair that looks eerily familiar, my breath hitches.

Carefully, I take a step back toward the exit, but Miss Betty can see my reaction from behind the counter as she hands the preacher his change.

“Harold! Will you get over there?” She nods her head in my direction. “Looks like Beau needs a place to sit. Don’t worry, honey, I’ll bring your order over. Looks like you could use an extra shot of caffeine.” She winks before reachin’ for a mug and makin’ my drink without me utterin’ a word.

I can barely contain the groan from escapin’ my lips at the fact I’ve been caught. There’s a certain gleam in her eye that I’ve seen a time or two. Scratch that. I’ve seen it more times than I can count.

Lover’s Landing is known for its matchmakin’ services, and you can blame it all on the owners, Harold and Betty. Those two have been married for ages and are so in love it would make you sick to your stomach to witness it.

The real problem is that their matchmakin’ services are startin’ to carry a bit of weight. I can’t even tell you how many dates—and relationships and marriages and children—have come from their meddlin’. Almost everyone in town’s been set up and can thank their lucky stars that Betty and Harold intervened.

And then there’s me.

The girl who ruined their outstandin’ reputation by fallin’ for the wrong guy under their watch, then gettin’ knocked up before I was smart enough to figure it out.

I release a sigh of defeat, my shoulders slumpin’ forward when Harold’s head pops up from behind a table after pickin’ up a wrinkled ol’ napkin. He’s smilin’ like the Cheshire cat while standin’ two feet away from the stranger who’s slowly takin’ over all my thoughts.

“Why hello, darlin’! Get on over here! I got the perfect place to seat ya!” he yells from across the shop. Mind you, he doesn’t need to find me a seat, he’s just feelin’ super helpful.

Rat bastard.

My cheeks are burnin’ from the unwanted attention. I’ve had enough assessin’ today, thank you very much.

“Nah. I think we’ll just be headin’ home.” I point my thumb over my shoulder toward the exit while my other hand holds Mac’s. “I should probably get Mac down for a nap, anyway.”

As soon as the words slip past my lips, I know I’ve made a mistake.

“No! No nap!” Mac yells, pullin’ her hand from my grip and rushin’ over to Harold like he’s her savior.

When she sees who’s sittin’ at the table, she squeals in delight, scramblin’ into his lap like the slides at the park.

My feet stay glued to the linoleum floor as I weigh my options.

I know I’m a goner when Noah finally glances over his shoulder.

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