Page 48 of Best Laid Plans

But wasn't it better than marrying her while I was still in love with another woman?

Since I saw Nova, one thing was clear to me; I'd never gotten over her. She was the reason none of the women I slept with had any staying power. I was measuring them against Nova. Bailey had finally gotten through more out of familiarity, rather than any real emotion attachment.

"I can't believe that you're allowing that b…woman to work on Sentinel Heights," Pete exclaimed. Presumably Bailey filled him in on Nova King. I hadn't been paying attention to the conversation at the table, but I could guess how Bailey had presented the situation. She was feeling insecure and had spent the day trying to convince me to ask Nina Davenport for a new project manager.

I told her I'd think about it. But I wasn't going to do that. I wouldn't be able to. No matter how pathetic it made me, this way, I got to see Nova regularly for the next few years—and I couldn't lose that opportunity.

"Can we not talk about her," Mama admonished. "I'm tired of her being discussed at every meal."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Larue," Bailey apologized, confirming that she'd started the hate on Nova chatter.

"I'm sorry, too, Mrs. Larue," Pete's wife Maria sat primly as she spoke in her high and mighty tone. "But I agree with Pete, this just ain't done. Everyone in Sentinel is talkin' about it. They're plannin' to bring a signed petition to Anson to have her removed. We're all worried that she's going to be stealin' and whorin' again."

The years had not been kind to Maria. After having two kids, her body had not snapped back, which would be fine, but she didn't look healthy. Her face was pale and blotchy—and the meanness that made her famous in high school was now unflatteringly etched on her face.

"She's not a whore," I spoke calmly, even though it enraged me. Nova had been a virgin when I took her. The woman I saw now was living her life independently. She wasn't living off a man.

"Please, you know she got to the position she has at Savannah Lace on her back." Bailey picked up her wine and took a sip like she was discussing the weather and not eviscerating another person.

"Nina Davenport only hires women, Bailey, so who the fuck do you think she's fuckin'?

"Language, Anson," Mama cried out. "We don't speak like that at my dinner table, and you know that."

"Sorry, Mama," I said without meaning it. She was okay with an innocent woman being called a whore but had a problem with the fucking F word? Talk about having your priorities all screwed up.

"Their clients are men, aren't they?" Bailey sneered. "Besides, she isn't even good at her job."

"Diego thinks she is damn good." I had no idea why I was defending Nova, but there it was.

She shrugged. "We all know why he thinks she's damn good."

I frowned. "Why?"

Alma giggled. "Because…you know…they're both black."

"God, Alma," Tyler groaned. "Can we get through one meal without you making a racist remark?"

"I'm being honest, not a racist," Alma countered. "And I was bein' honest about that waitress in Atlanta. She was slow 'cause she was—"

"Enough." I slammed my hand on the dining table.

I looked at Mama, who didn't seem to be affected at all that racist comments were being made at her dinner table. Like I said, fucking fucked up priorities.

"Diego is Latino, not black," I corrected Alma. "And, I concur with Tyler; I'd like to get through one fucking meal in my house without you or Mama or Bailey sayin' something derogatory about someone's race, socioeconomic status, or anythin' else."

I held up a hand when Mama was going to say something about my language. I really didn't have the patience. It appeared that all our family dinners were devolving into arguments these days.

"Pete, can I interest you in a whiskey in my office?" I dropped my napkin on my plate. I'd eaten most of the salmon before my family decided to make me uncomfortable with their disgust for everyone who wasn't like them.

Pete rose. "Yeah. Sure."

The sheriff looked nervous as we sat on the porch that opened into my office with glasses of good Tennessee Whiskey.

"As you already heard, I met with Nova." I watched him intently as I spoke.

He shrugged. "So?"

"She told me a few things about what happened to her in jail all those years ago." I took a sip of my drink, feeling uncomfortable because Pete wasn't relaxed, not at all. He was jumpy and already appeared defensive, and I hadn't even asked him anything.

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