Page 107 of South of The Skyway

“I can’t promise I’ll want to come back?”

I laughed, turning to press a kiss to her head. “You saying I’ll be on my own for snowbird season at the bar this year?”

“Mmmm, we’ll see. Elora makes it sound like heaven.”

“Damn. I was thinking of getting a bigger place in the city. Somewhere with a guest bed and designated room for your books.”

“I don’t think that’s your best idea,” she said softly as the sun sank below the horizon and the crowd clapped in celebration of another beautiful curtain falling on the world’s stage.

“No?”

“Mmm, I was thinking of something quieter for inspiration.”

“Like, Mistyvale quiet or like…”

“Why don’t we get a place south of the Skyway?”

FIFTY

BREXLEY

“Sounds great, Kara, thank you.” Rhyett slipped his phone into a back pocket, a grin permanently etched in his face. “She found one,” he said smugly, coming to plant kisses down my neck. Kara was the real estate agent that Juniper and Milo used to find their property, and she’d located a rental five minutes from it, so we could spread out a little more than piling into the RV. This way, he could oversee the second attempt at a building job.

“I’m still so sorry you guys are going through this,” I said for what was likely the hundredth time. Rhyett nipped at the sensitive skin of my neck.

“Not anybody’s fault, Ace. Honest mistake. Everyone’s safe, and honestly, Ed did a shoddy job on that back deck. It’ll give him the chance to do it right.”

“You’re incorrigible,” I laughed, squeezing his arm and pulling him back towards the parking lot so we could beat the crowd before they were all sitting idle in the road. With one last big breath, he followed me back to the car. When Rhyett started the truck, the cab filled with “If We Were Vampires” by Jason Isbell and The 400 Unit, the lyrics immediately bringing tears to my eyes. The engine rumbled to life as he threaded our fingers together, my eyes staying trained on Rhyett’s beautiful profile as we drove over the Skyway for what was likely the last time for a few months as the insurance people worked everything out.

* * *

Royal had replaceda doormat sometime during the twenty minutes we spent making store-bought fettuccine Alfredo. She didn’t bother to shift as the wave of red splashed into my glass, or as the next filled Rhyett’s. Nor did she budge when we sat down at the table. We’d worn her out dragging her on morning runs and trips to the dog beach on Rhyett’s side of the bridge.

Louis Armstrong’s “A Kiss to Build A Dream On” came on over my record player as we settled in for dinner, our little routine already familiar. We ran through our plans for the trip to Alaska, and then Rhyett grilled me on my research into the agent I’d selected, ensuring there weren’t any holes in my confidence.

He’d been mid-explanation about the next phase for the bar when his phone buzzed, Elora’s name on the text bubble. Overall, Rhyett wasn’t quick to grab his cell, although it was almost a reflex when there was a ‘Rhodes’ on screen. He’d missed them all the moment we’d dropped them at the airport, and I could tell his excitement for our trip was more about getting time together than it was about showing me the island.

He chuckled, turning the phone my way to share the grinning face of Elora beside a man with glowing, warm umber skin, a nervous smile, and deep brown eyes that looked just shy of pain. Her text read, ‘look who I ran into today.’Rhyett fired back‘always fun seeing old friends. Don’t give him too hard a time, okay, El?’

“That’s our Broderick,” he said, grinning. “Those two have had a friendly rivalry going since we were all kids. It’s kinda ridiculous.” I glanced back to Broderick’s undeniably nervous face and laughed. He had to see the truth in that picture…didn’t he?

“Rivals, huh?” I asked skeptically.

“Broderick was the yearbook editor, so El had to be editor and director of artistic design. He set records as swim team captain, so she upped the ante when she landed the role. Broderick was student body president, so when Elora was a senior, she had to win with ten more votes. He got Valedictorian with a four-point-oh, so she took college and AP classes and took the title with a four-point-five.”

“Four-point-five?” I demanded, eyes widening as I twirled more pasta onto my fork, Alfredo sauce slapping the edge of the plate, a splatter hitting the table.

“She loves terrorizing him. It’s kinda priceless. And since his two best friends were me and Jameson, there was no escaping her.”

I swiped up the drops of sauce with a finger, popping it in my mouth.

The heat of his focus caught my attention as his explanations wandered off. “Now, that’s just not fair.”

“I’m eating,” I protested.

“Well, you eat sexy.”

“It’s not a hot dog, Rhodes. Keep your pants on.”

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