Page 79 of Christmas with Three Cowboys

“You were in love,” Mitch replies. “And you have a way of seeing the best in people. Stop beating yourself up over it. We’ve all done stupid things; we’ve all believed our share of lies over the years. Okay, so, Lyle. He could be a good starting point for us. Would you be able to find him?”

“Let me see. We were connected on social media. On my old account. Hold on…”

A few minutes later, and as we get closer to Lincoln, I manage to log into my old social networking account. There’s Lyle, posting a recent update to his profile. He looks a lot better to my delight. He’s grown a lot over the past few years. The shaggy hair is gone and the scraggly blonde beard is trimmed. And his eyes look bright in the photo.

“Lyle Sanders,” I say. “Yeah, he’s active, still in Lincoln. Says here he works at the Troubadour. I know that place. It’s a nice bistro downtown. Great food.”

“We should stop by and grab some lunch, what do you say?”

I give Mitch a broad smile. “You keep reading my mind, babe. I could definitely eat something.”

Lincoln is almost the same. Not much has changed in the handful of years since I’ve been gone. Storefronts look the same and so do the buildings. I see the same neighborhoods with townhouses and tiny front yards, picket fences, and curious neighbors watching every car that passes by. Not much has changed, but I certainly have. I feel like a stranger in my hometown.

We find the Troubadour and it’s looking better than I remember it. The front of the building has been repainted and there’s an added a splash of white on the giant window frames. It makes the whole place look brighter, cleaner. A hostess welcomes us at the door, and I notice the new uniforms: black pants, white shirt, dark red vest with a brass-colored nametag.

The young hostess takes us to a table and hands us menus.

“Is Lyle still working here?” I ask.

She smiles and nods. “Yep. He’s actually here right now. Would you like him to wait on you?”

“That would be amazing. Thank you so much.”

She nods politely and walks off.

“You’re nervous,” Mitch says, watching me intently.

“I don’t think I’ll stop being nervous until this is over,” I reply. “But in the meantime, I could eat. Ah, quiche. They have quiche.”

“You make the best quiche,” he says.

I look up to find him smiling, his loving gaze drinking me in. I would like nothing more than to jump in his lap and hold him close for the rest of my life. He deserves all the love I can give him and his brothers alike.

“I certainly don’t make the best quiche. Pretty sure the French beat me a very long time ago,” I quip, and he laughs lightly.

A presence to my left makes me turn my head. As soon as we see each other, the air in the room changes completely.

“Melissa… Is that you?” he asks, his voice but a whisper.

“Lyle. Yeah, it’s me. I can’t believe this,” I gasp and jump from my seat to hug him.

He welcomes the affection, albeit with slight reluctance. “You look fantastic,” he says once I sit back down. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“It’s me.” I laugh lightly. “How’ve you been? How is everything?”

“Better than the last time we saw each other, for sure,” he says, giving Mitch a second glance. “I’m Lyle, by the way. I’ll be your server today.”

“You’re going to be our best friend today, Lyle,” Mitch replies and politely slides a couple of hundred-dollar bills across the table.

“Wait, what?” Lyle is understandably confused.

I take the money and slip it into his vest pocket. “I need your help. Can we talk? When’s your next break?”

“Um… Wow, okay, ten minutes?”

“Perfect. Meet you in the back garden?” I reply.

He nods slowly, then proceeds to take our order. “I’m glad to see you’re okay, Melissa. Really. I’d heard some stuff, but I didn’t think it was true. I figured they were confusing you with somebody else.”

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