Page 101 of Memphis

“It’s not fair. I’m a bag of wrinkles, and he looks better than he ever has.”

“Now, hold on a second,” I interjected. “You are an absolute knockout. Preacher may look good and all, but he has nothing on you.”

“You’re sweet, but...”

“But nothing. You are a beautiful woman, Kay. There’s not a man here that would tell you otherwise, including Preacher.”

“I highly doubt that.” She sounded slightly disappointed as she told me, “He has his pick of the women, and with our history, there’s no way he’d even look in my direction.”

“Well, that’s funny.” I motioned my head over to the back table. “Because he’s looking right now.”

“Oh, you better stop!”

“I’m serious! He’s looking right over here.”

“I need a drink.” She reached over and took my beer, downing it before I could protest. “Do you want another one?”

“Sure!”

Kay got up and grabbed us both a beer from the cooler, and in a matter of a few minutes, we’d finished it off and were on to another. The more people who came streaming in, the more we drank. By the time Wes and the guys came over, I was feeling pretty good. Wes was smiling ear to ear as he snickered, “My girl is drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” I slurred. “I’m just a little tipsy.”

“Well, we need to get some food in you, or you’re gonna be in a world of hurt tomorrow.”

“I’m fine.”

“You are definitely that.” He gave me a wink, then stood and asked, “So, what’s it gonna be? A BBQ sandwich with all the fixings or some of Creed’s famous ribs?”

“You pick.”

“She’s gotta try the ribs,” Goose insisted. “They’re incredible... falling off the bone.”

“Ribs it is.” I gave him a playful smile. “And another beer.”

“You got it.”

I loved the way Wes was always looking out for me. It made me feel special—like I truly meant something to him. He definitely meant something to me. He made me feel things I didn’t know I could feel. It was like I’d been lost, and in him, I finally found the place I was meant to be.

I’d found my home.

And there was no better feeling in the world.

Life was good.

Epilogue

Memphis

Three Years Later

“Ten.”

“Don’t start with me.”

“Nine.”

“I’m folding laundry.”

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