Page 35 of My Favorite Mistake

Liza exited the car and followed him over the sidewalk toward the house next door to his. They walked up the concrete path, dipping under a wire canopy adorned with honeysuckle, and then climbed the three steps. Connor pulled open the screen door, and there was the sound of a stampede of small footsteps pounding on the wood floors before the interior door slammed shut. Liza squinted in confusion, but Connor merely laughed.

He rapped the back of his knuckles on the door frame and then hollered, “Knock, knock!”

“Caroline, let him in,” came a woman’s muffled voice. “It’s too hot to make him stand on the porch for your silly game.”

The knob turned and the door creaked open, revealing one half of a pretty little girl’s mischievous face. “What’s the password?”

Connor bent low, palms braced on his knees as he leveled his face with little Caroline’s and put on an expression like the Hulk.

“WHO DAT!” he bellowed, and Liza took a step back because it seemed Connor wastoo much man. She couldn’t help feeling slightly intimidated even though he was playing along with Caroline’s game.“WHO DAT! WHO DAT SAY GONNA BEAT THEM—”

“Oh jeez, Connor,” Caroline said with pre-pubescent sass and not a shred of intimidation. She flung the interior door open and stalked away.

Connor loudly stomped into the house, trailing her, fists raised in the air.“WHO DAT SAY GONNA BEAT THEM SAINTS!”

Caroline attempted to scamper away from him, but Connor caught her by the waist and flipped her upside down, holding her at the level of his shoulder as she squealed with laughter. Liza stepped inside and suddenly felt a bit sick. Connor loved kids. She hadn’t realized that, and it simultaneously warmed her heart and made it ache.

“Hey!” Brennan stepped through a doorway, dressed in his typical Oxford shirt, this one a pale blue, and tailored black slacks. He also had on a red and white striped apron that made him look like anabsurdly attractiveItalian chef. “Hand that over!”

“Ohsnap.” Connor turned in a circle, and Caroline squealed louder. “Go long, Riley!”

Brennan shoved his rolled-up sleeves up past his elbows and held up his arms as though preparing to catch a football. “I’m open!”

“One! Two!” Connor counted, swinging Caroline with each number while she shrieked. “Three!”

Flipping her upright again, he hefted the spindly little girl into the air, and Brennan deftly caught her in a cradle of his arms. Caroline giggled like a maniac and threw her arms around Brennan’s neck like he was her knight in shining armor.

The whole stunt caused Liza to suck in a terrified gasp. “How many heart attacks have you guys given her poor mother?”

Connor waved his hand dismissively. “Nah, she doesn’t have a mama.”

“Con-nor!”Caroline whined, still tightly hugging Brennan's neck.

“Yeah, you didn't know, little darlin’?” Brennan looked down at her in his arms and offered a dashing, white smile. “That lovely lady in the kitchen is a magical fairy princess, and she whipped you up from sugar and spice and everything nice.” He kissed the top of her head and then set her bare feet back on the floor. “Andglitter.”

Caroline giggled, clasping her hands together under her chin while she gazed at Brennan with what might as well have been pink, glittery, puffy-heart eyes.

A pretty, brunette woman in her forties strode into the living room and stood arms akimbo, leveling her unamused gaze at Connor and Brennan. “Are you boys seriously out here telling my little girl that I’m not her mom?”

Connor folded his arms across his chest and shrugged, and Brennan stood next to him, casually leaning his shoulder against Connor’s.

Brennan elegantly gestured at the room with an upturned palm. “We’dnever.”

The woman stepped around Brennan and offered her hand to Liza. “You must be Liza. I’m Ophelia-McCarthy-Latimer, the neighbor who feeds all these adult children.”

“Nice to meet you.” Liza shook with Ophelia, noting that she was every bit as elegant and beautiful as her name suggested, but also had a severe scar that stretched diagonally across her face.

Liza was struck by the fact that Ophelia probably had a sad story similar to Oscar’s. Whatever it was didn’t seem to bother her, much like Oscar had emerged from his storm-rotted house without a hint on his face about the trauma he’d lived through. And all of that—the ability to be happy despite personal loss and heartbreak—caused Liza to think.

“Are y’all hungry?” Ophelia crossed the room to shut the front door. “I’m frying some shrimp, and Brennan’s whipping up a remoulade, so we can either make po’ boys or just eat them alone. I’ve also got some sausage and bacon leftover from breakfast. We can make whatever else sounds good if y’all want.”

“Yeah you right!” Connor boomed. He stepped past Liza to wrap his arm around Ophelia’s waist and kissed her unscarred cheek. Pulling Caroline out of Brennan’s arms, Connor flipped her upside down again, and she giggled wildly. “I’m starving!”

Caroline slapped Connor’s large thigh muscle as if drumming on a set of bongos. “You’re always hungry! You’re gonna get fat!”

Ophelia laughed. “No, sugar. Anyone who runs as much as Connor does is incapable of getting fat.” She grasped Caroline’s skinny torso and peeled the little girl out of Connor’s arms, plopping her feet back on the floor and swatting her bottom. “Come make some biscuits.”

“Ugh,”Caroline groaned. “I hate making the biscuits. The dough gets stuck in my nails.”

---