Sarge chuckles. “Sounds like a great dog to me. Poor thing probably dropped dead of a heart attack with all she ate.”

“Oh, no. Myrtle lived long past her years. Myrt, Myrt, old as dirt. That’s what I would sing to her. She died in her late teens. A truck ran over her on one of her squirrel chasing missions. She could only drag her butt across the street so fast, ya know?” Celia shrugs with a playful frown. “Myrtle was a good dog. All thirty pounds of her.”

“Girly, who names a dog Myrtle? That’s an old lady name if I’ve ever heard one,” Sarge says.

Celia smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She looks at me, and whispers, “She was an old soul.”

Memories of the last time she whispered those words slam right into my chest—a time when I could hold her … kiss her … feel everything that is Celia. My chest fills with the withered hope of falling for a heart that isn’t whole.

She breaks eye contact a moment later and focuses on Sarge. “So what if we make my weekly visit all about storytelling? We’ll each share our stories, and we can ask Granny to help if you get stuck. But each week, I’ll write them down for you so you can look back and read about all the wonderful moments. What do you say?”

Sarge gulps, swallowing a ball of emotion, and turns to me with a look of resolve.

“That’s a helluva woman, right there, son.”

I nod once and meet her blue eyes head on. “You’ve got that right, old man.”

He slaps both hands on his knees and stands. After a few steps toward the trucks, he turns and levels us with an impatient glare. “Come on you two, get the lead out your ass! Granny’s waiting.”

He sounds like his old, ornery self again, and I couldn’t be happier.

“Little Lion Man” by Mumford & Sons

Present Day

“PUT ON THIS frilly fucking dress and walk your pretty little ass next door before I get out my cattle prod,” Marlo orders with a popped hip and pursed lips.

“You own a cattle prod?” I deadpan.

I’m perfectly comfortable lying on the couch in my yoga pants, shoving chips down my gullet. Who needs to attend the party from hell? Not me, that’s for sure. I’ll call Alex and West and bid my farewells.

“I don’t have a cattle prod, but I do own a stun gun. I’m sure it will serve as a stellar replacement.” She crosses her arms. “You cannot hide from them. I won’t allow it.”

“How about I just hide from you,” I mutter.

Marlo huffs and pushes my feet out of her way before falling onto the couch beside me. “Take it from someone who is all too familiar with hiding. The box you’re building is smaller than you think, trust me on that one. It’s suffocating, and I don’t want that life for you. So I’m taking matters into my own hands. I apologize ahead of time.”

Her grabby hands wrap around the bottom of my tank top and rip it over my head. She fists the bottom of my yoga pants and pulls with an amazing amount of strength. One hand covers my boobs while the other clutches my panties to keep them from following my yoga pants down my legs.

I growl in frustration. “You are freakishly strong, woman.”

Once she shoves my dress over my head and crams my feet into high heels, she places both hands on my knees as she leans in with a slightly sadistic smile. “The rest can go one of two ways. You can put on a little makeup and jewelry and we’ll be on our way. Or I can hold you down and paint your face, hoping you resemble Faye Dunaway instead of Tammy Faye when I’m done. The choice is yours.”

I lean in and meet her, nose to nose. “You secretly hope I choose option two.”

“You bet your ass, I do.” She grins without apology.

I shove her to the side with a huff, appreciating her concern and cursing her tactics equally. No amount of makeup can hide my jealousy. Seeing Kimberly and Cain cozying up together is up there with a Brazilian wax on the “Things I Want to Do” list … so not at all.

“Out of my way, you tacky tyrant. I prefer perfect lip gloss when my heart gets ripped out of my chest … and I need just the right amount of dusting powder, too.” I stomp to the bathroom as Marlo chuckles behind me.

“By all means, this occasion definitely calls for a little fairy dust,” Marlo laughs.

“Where are my tiny rugrats? I want to tell Gage my newest joke,” Cain booms as he walks in to the kitchen.

“Oh no. Not after what happened with your last joke. Gage doesn’t need any more teacher’s notes sent home,” Sara scolds, one hand on her hip and the other pointing a spatula at Cain. “Besides, Caroline picked them up for a slumber party about an hour ago.”

He scoops her up into a bear hug and smacks a kiss on her cheek. “Looking good, Sara. Engagement agrees with you. I knew you were a keeper. Adam, on the other hand, I’m still on the fence about that fucker.”

Everyone laughs at Cain’s barb—well, almost everyone. Kimberly stands at the kitchen entrance, arms crossed and her face screwed up like she sucked on a lemon.

Yeah, this is going to be fun.

Cain moves on to Alex for more hugs and cheek kisses. “All packed up, girl?” he asks with a smile.

Alex wraps an arm around his waist and squeezes. “All set. New York in the morning.” She smiles and looks out the kitchen window onto the patio, where West and Adam are drinking their beers. “I can’t wait to show him all of my favorite places from when I was in school. I can’t erase the years we spent apart, but I feel like this is the next best thing, ya know?”

The women let out a collective sigh. As the room oohs and ahs over honeymoon plans and Sara’s preliminary wedding plans, my eyes refuse to veer from Cain. Worn jeans slung low and sunglasses set on top of his curly blond hair, he looks every bit the man who stole my heart in a fig field.

He stretches his hand out to Kimberly and smiles. “Join me out on the porch, babe?”

She places her hand in his and smirks, her eyes darting to me for only a second. Unbridled jealousy creeps up my spine like a deadly virus. I know all of this is my own doing, but my emotions don’t understand the logic. When it comes to the heart, love bows to logic every time. I’m filled to the brim with longing and regret. No, there’s no room for reason.

Marlo, Audrey, Alex, Sara, and I spend the evening huddled at the kitchen island, deep in wedding talk, honeymoon excitement, and even a bit of baby talk. Sara and Alex both are eager to add a baby carriage to the mix.

“I promise, I’ll make sure you both rock your delivery, you know that. But once I get that baby out of your vajayjay, I’m out. I’ll leave the babysitting duties to Celia, Audrey, and Caroline.” Marlo presses her lips together and shakes her head. “I don’t do babies. They freak me the fuck out.”

Alex throws her head back in laughter. “Well, get ready, Marlo. I’m a woman on a mission. I’m determined to make a honeymoon baby.”

“Hah, you want to talk about determination? My patient last night was a lesbian who got pregnant with a Monistat syringe and sperm she bought from Mexico. Now, that’s ingenuity,” Marlo says with a nod of her head. We all stare at her, slack jawed and speechless. “What? What did I say?”

“Please excuse the nursing talk. Sometimes, we forget how off-putting our commentary can be,” Sara explains, giving Marlo a pointed look. “That applies to Marlo even more than most.”

Marlo shrugs as Cain enters the kitchen. “I call ‘em like I see ‘em, my dear. And speaking of calling things like I see them,” Marlo says as she cranes her neck behind Cain, making sure Kimberly didn’t follow. “It’s time for you to take out the trash, my giant friend.”