Page 170 of Butter My Biscuit

Grace’s mouth falls open. “I was seriously wondering how you would just randomly pop up where I was.”

“Oh, I never told him where you were going.”

I lock in on Grace. “I knew where you were because I know you, babe. Could write a whole-ass manual about you. Oh, but there was that one time about your date at the bar.”

“Shit,” Remi whispers. “Forgot about that one.”

Her face softens, and then she looks at Remi. “I’m not mad at you. Honestly, thanks. I dunno if we would be here without all the little things that happened.”

She lets out a breath of relief, then looks at me. “I hate you. But you’re also going to tell me why you snatched two of my favors away.”

Grace clears her throat because she knows if Remi continues down this path, I’ll call her out and question her, which honestly, I want to happen.

“Hubby, do you think I should keep these two dresses?” She pulls my focus back to her, like she always does.

“Hell yes,” I say, remembering the last time she wore the flowered one. Fourth of July last year.

I punched a guy out for calling her a bitch. The thought makes me laugh, and she tilts her head at me.

“Was just thinking of something. I’ll tell ya later.”

Grace notices Remi is on the couch, scowling at me. She sits next to her and wraps her in a hug, but Remi doesn’t return it.

“I’m mad at you for leaving me for him,” my sister mutters, but I know she’s just giving us a hard time. It’s her love language.

“But you’re happy for me too. That’s a whole bunch of conflicting emotions if you ask me.” Grace laughs. “The next person you live with is going to be a hundred times better than me.”

“I doubt they’ll cleanhalfus much.” Remi looks at me. “When she’s stressed?—”

I hold out my hand. “I know. One time, when we were sixteen, she detailed my entire truck in an afternoon.”

Grace turns to me. “And you know why?”

“I thought it was because of a test.”

“It’s because I wrote you that damn letter and thought you denied me,” she says with a snort.

I take three steps across the room, leaning her back on the couch, and kiss her. “Not denying you now, am I?”

Remi chuckles and scoots away from us. “Way too close for comfort. So, what are you two doing tonight?”

I shrug. “You don’t want to know.”

She holds up her hand and stands. “Yep, you’re right. Now, can you please go help your woman?”

“Yeah,” Grace says. “I’m too indecisive with what I want to keep.”

“You’re lucky I’m not finishing this conversation,” I warn Remi. “Taking another favor for that.”

“You’re not fair,” she mutters, but doesn’t say anything because I know this is a conversation she’s avoiding too.

I follow Grace down the hallway and walk into her room, and it’s chaos. There are a few more boxes I can carry to the truck, but instead, I join her in the closet.

“Help me pick.” She pouts.

I quickly sort through one side with my keeps and donates. Smiling each time a shirt or a dress gives me a memory. They are all kept. While I finish packing my truck, Grace sorts through the clothes in her dresser.

“I’m gonna head back, okay? Start unloading things.”

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