Page 179 of Lavender Lake
“Hand me a drumstick,” I stated. “I’ll join you.”
I opened the cabinet and grabbed two plates and several paper napkins before returning to the kitchen table.
“Have you guys decided what you’re going to do?” she asked.
“About the Rudolph Lancaster campaign? No. About Cas’s career? Also no. I wish he and Declan were talking, so he could have someone else’s perspective.”
“You’ve brought it up, though, right? Talking to Declan.”
“Well, sure. But every time I broach the subject, he distracts me.”
“With?”
“His tongue,” I admitted.
She chuckled. “Declan does the same.”
“This is so stupid,” I said. “They’re best friends. They can’t throw away years of friendship over this.”
“I thought for sure Declan’s mom would be able to talk some sense into him, but it was no use. Should we lock them in a room together and force them to speak?” Hadley asked. “Use trickery like Wyn suggested to get them back to being buddies?”
“Maybe.” I sat down.
She dropped a drumstick onto my plate. “Declan thought he had to protect you from Bowman, what with you being his future sister-in-law, but you’re already pregnant and Bowman loves you, so . . .”
“And Cas was mad that Declan said he wasn’t a family man, implying he wasn’t good enough for me.”
“Boys are dumb.” She bit into her chicken thigh.
“If they weren’t so damn hot?—”
“Or good in bed?—”
“We’d have nothing to do with them.” I raised my drumstick, and she tapped it with her chicken thigh.
The front door opened and I heard a set of keys clank on the foyer table. Muddy appeared in the kitchen, holding a plastic bag.
“What do you have there?” Hadley asked her.
“Alpaca yarn,” she said. “I’m starting a new crocheting project.”
“Are you going to tell us what it is?” I asked.
“It’s a surprise.” She set the bag of yarn down and patted my head. “You gonna save any of that chicken for me?”
“Get it while you can,” Hadley quipped. “It’s a hormonal feeding frenzy.”
Muddy went to the cabinet and pulled out a plate. “The girls left?”
“Yeah. Not too long ago,” I replied.
“I said my goodbyes to them this morning, before either of you were awake. I hope they come back soon,” Muddy said. “The house feels empty without them.”
“Empty?” Hadley repeated. “How can this house feel empty? Every room is occupied.”
“I don’t know. It just does. They’re family,” Muddy explained as she took a seat at the table.
I pushed the plate of chicken toward her.
