Page 14 of Honeyed

“Don’t get used to it, I’ll still wash your mouth out if I hear you using the F-word in this house.” She points a finger at me. “It’s that mother of August’s. The woman is a manipulative witch who I wish would just … hell, I wish she’d disappear. The child would be better off, and I don’t say that lightly.”

“Amen,” Cass grumbles, looking none too pleased herself.

“I think we all agree on that. What has she done this time?”

Mom pops the baking sheet into the oven, closes it, then leans a hip against it. “She won’t sign the prom permission slip so that August can attend. Won’t fill out the form, give her the money, or any of it. The woman is evil, I swear it. So August asked if I would, and of course I obliged in a heartbeat. It’s not often that she’ll let me step in and help, so I jumped at the chance. But the school won’t accept my signature.”

“I swear, I’ll buy them a new library if it means I can buy her way into that prom if that’s what she wants to go to.” My sister-in-law palms her growing belly as she sits and takes a rest at the kitchen table.

“Normally, I’d say don’t make such public gestures, but for her, go for it.”

Mom nods.

Warren’s desperate eyes are the only thing I see as they discuss how to help August. Because I can help her, no problem, at least when it comes to securing her future, and it only takes one little word.

Yes.

My best friend claims he wants to fulfill the term of the will for August and so that I get my storefront. And while I can be offended to high heaven that he would have never given me the real deal, I can recognize what Warren is trying to do. We’re all stuck in this web August’s mother has spun around her, and we just want to help her out.

Warren and I have a real chance at doing that. This money could provide August with things she never dreamed of. It could give her a fresh start.

It could give me a fresh start.

A marriage to him could give me something I’ve always dreamed of, even if he isn’t looking at it the same way.

Since last night, I haven’t been able to get his expression out of my mind; dead serious, a little desperate, with a hint of something I couldn’t put my finger on. In the months since our fight, I have been thinking I need to pull the linchpin out of my stale life.

I just never thought that Warren would be the grenade I’d be running straight into.

6

ALANA

I find him where I know he’ll always be on a Sunday morning.

Down on the canal path, sitting on our bench, drinking coffee with a splash of whole milk from Vanilla Bean.

“Hey,” I greet him with one word, even though we have a million things to discuss.

“Figured I might see you here.” Warren doesn’t even turn his head my way, as if he predicted I’d show up.

“Really? Because I thought I might want to avoid you for another week.” Half-joking, I sit down.

And watch as he reaches around his other side, produces a coffee cup, and hands it to me. From the smell alone, I can tell it’s the brown sugar latte that’s been a favorite of mine since our local coffee shop introduced it six months ago. Something inside me melts, knowing he remembers my order and anticipated my arrival.

“That would be extremely unlike you. Remember the time you burst into my tenth-grade study hall to ask how my PSATs went? You couldn’t even wait until I met you at my locker when the bell rang.”

He’s right; patience is so not my virtue.

We sip our coffees in silence, watching as two kayakers make their way down a small patch of rapids further down the river.

“There are so many things we need to discuss that I don’t even know where to start.” My voice is quiet, both of our eyes still trained straight ahead.

“We’re best friends, Al. We can talk through anything.”

He means this as a comfort, but its effect is the opposite. One, we just went four months without talking something through. And two, he called out once again that it’s all platonic between us.

“Why do you have to marry me? Why not someone else?”

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