Page 8 of Endless Southern Love

Goldie and I hold hands as we face the elementary school. We stand there, next to the flagpole, both with fears. Hers is being the new kid. Mine is facing someone I once loved.

Don’t lie to yourself, Wade.

I sigh heavily and give her hand a squeeze.

“Ready?”

“To go home? Yes!”

I look down at my daughter and smile.

People pass by us, chatting happily. Some say hi while others continue on their way.

“We gotta do this, kiddo.”

Goldie sighs. “If you say so.”

Surprisingly, it’s Goldie who takes the first step. If she can do it, so can I. We follow behind another family and enter the school. I can’t remember the last time I was inside the elementary school. It had to be when I left fifth grade. Even though I do all their landscaping there isn’t ever a need to go inside.

And I know why.

It’s standing in the middle of the atrium, with the early evening sunlight casting her in a heavenly glow. She smiles at every student and shakes hands with every parent. Every few seconds she tilts her head back and laughs or gives directions by pointing toward one of the halls.

I swallow hard as we approach, unsure if I even need to stop or if I’m supposed to. I’m steps away when I look down at the sheet of paper with Goldie’s class assignment on it and then look into the blazing gaze from the intense green eyes of my ex, Lemon Walsh.

“Hey, Le-Lemon.” I stumble over a name I’ve said a million times before. A name I’ve tried not to think about for the past eight years.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

Ouch.

four

lemon

“You did what?” Leslie screeches.

I plop down onto the couch and fall to my side with a melodramatic groan. After seeing Leslie last week and sharing a pitcher or two of margaritas, she volunteered to come to Magnolia Grove on Meet Your Teacher Night just in case I needed her.

I totally needed her.

“Tell me again what he said.”

“He said, ‘Hi, Le-Lemon’ and he looked freaking adorable and kissable and just so damn manly with the sleeves of his T-shirt stretched around his muscles and I . . .” I cover my face with my hand and weep.

“I can’t believe you asked if you knew him.”

“What is wrong with me?”

“The list is long,” Leslie says with zero hesitation. “If you would’ve called, I would’ve had the margs going. I’ll need a minute.”

Within seconds, I can hear Leslie moving around in my kitchen. My apartment isn’t huge, but it works for me until the house I want to buy comes on the market. Well, there are a group of them, all along the river, and I’m biding my time until one goes up for sale. I have the down payment and then some. The only problem with where I want to live is Wade lives there. He bought a house in the location where we always talked about living someday.

Asshole.

Leslie returns and kicks my foot with hers. Slowly, I open one eye, look at her, and try to discern the expression on her face. Regardless of whatever goes on in my life, she’s on my side. It’s part of our bestie pact. We always have each other’s backs. But I know she likes—or liked—Wade the times she met him back in college. He would come visit and he always treated her with the utmost respect and included her in everything we did.

I take the proffered drink and sit up. After a sip, I set it on the coffee table in front of me, which is littered with gossip, fashion, and love life magazines. One catches my attention. I reach for it and flip to the page that says where I can find out who my soulmate is.

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