Page 92 of The Nice Guy
She gives me a small smile, and I notice she’s smaller than she was before. “Thanks. I figure we should probably talk, too.”
“After dinner. I feel like you need three of my home-cooked meals a day for a month to put some meat on those bones, sweetheart,” Mom says.
Brynlee turns back to Mom, a bright smile on her face. “I might actually get hips if I do.”
“May I… Do you mind if I sit with you?” I ask.
“Sure,” she says with a shrug. “It’s kind of your house. Or… was.”
Even though she’s been on a plane for however long the flight from Chicago to Atlanta is, and then in a car for at least two hours, she still smells amazing. Looks it, too. She wears a deepred sweater dress with a belt that cinches her waist and her hair in loose curls. Beautiful.
I sit next to her, and Mom sets the plate down. Brynlee’s eyes widen as she stares at it. “I can’t eat all of this, Lydia.”
“Eat what you can. I’ll send the rest home with you,” she says. “Come on, girls. Let’s give these two some privacy.”
Mom winks at me as they walk away, and I shove my shaking hands onto my lap under the counter as she takes a bite of ham.
“How have you been?” I ask.
“Not great,” she admits. “This is good.”
“Mom’s a great cook.”
“How about you?”
I shrug. “I’m decent. But give me a grill and a big piece of meat, and I’m a fantastic cook.”
I’m rewarded with a small smile. “I remember.”
“I’ve been pretty terrible, actually,” I admit. “Brynlee, I’m so sorry—”
“Can we wait to have this talk until we’re not in a house filled with people listening to us? Would that be okay?”
It’s obvious what she means. I’ve never heard this house as quiet as it is now, especially with twenty kids on Christmas. It’s kind of eerie, actually. “They’re goin’ to pepper us with questions.”
“I figured. Kind of spent most of my travel time preparing for the onslaught of questions. I’m not sure if I have many answers, though.”
“Just tell me… Are you here to get the rest of your things and list the house?”
My heart beasts so fast that I feel light-headed. “I don’t know,” she finally says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been trying to decide what I’m going to do and where I’m going to land since you ended things.”
“Don’t sell the house,” I say.
“This is your town, Rhett—”
“It’s also yours. And based on the feedback from pretty much everyone, includin’ those listenin’ ears in the next room, you’re more welcome than I am. Give me a chance to make everythin’ up to you. Just a chance.”
Her head turns, and she locks eyes with me. “How am I more welcome than you are?”
I chuckle as I gaze into her blue eyes I’ve dreamed about every night. The eyes I’ve missed getting lost in like crazy. “I spent my entire life tryin’ to shake my nice guy persona, but now that I have, I miss it. So does everyone else. They don’t like the guy I turned into any more than I do, and I want to be the nice guy again. I can’t blame anyone for hatin’ me. I was terrible to you, and I’m so sorry.”
Mom walks into the kitchen. “You know what? On second thought, why don’t I pack you up these leftovers, and you two can head out?”
“I don’t want to ruin your holiday plans,” Brynlee says, but Mom waves a hand in the air.
“You’re not ruinin’ anythin’. Rhett’s just been mopin’ around here, anyway. And if things go well with your talk, maybe you’ll consider comin’ over for brunch tomorrow mornin’. It’s adults only, and there will be no bowls of flour sittin’ around.”
She takes the plate from Brynlee who looks at it longingly. “I suppose I can eat later.”
