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My heart lurches hearing that memory. I haven’t thought about her weird cravings in years. Or Eden pregnant with Blake.
“You know what, I remember that now you’ve said it, Aunt May.”
She wore cute dresses with bows and denim dungarees, which I still find hot.
Oh, she became a farm girl not long after our roll in the hay. The barn often became our hotspot when no one was around. I even took her once in the vault after dark — it was so hot. I was showing her the vintage oak barrels and the new bottling machinery. It all got too much. She liked it when I explained the bourbon making process.
Some say I corrupted her, and it’s probably true. But it was in the best kind of way, and we always had a lot of fun together.
Aunt May glances over to Eden, still busily concentrating on her diary, then looks back to me. “You kids still fighting it?” She chuckles good naturedly.
One thing is for sure, you can always count on Aunt May to give it to you straight between the eyes. I guess she has known me my whole life, so she’s kinda earned that right.
“Am I that transparent?” I joke.
“Not really, just whenever I see you two it seems obvious you still care for one another. And it’s a beautiful thing in this day and age.”
“We make it work. We’re just friends, though.”
She smiles like she doesn't believe me and says, “Go take a seat, honey. I’ll come over and take your order.”
I’m glad she doesn’t press me to elaborate on my wife and our situation. Who knows what I might blurt out. I smile as I walk toward Eden. A lump forms in my throat seeing her sitting there so quietly, efficiently working, without a care in the world.
“Baby Doll.” It’s her old high school nickname. I had a range of cute names for her over the years which I alternated with. She always used to call me Brookie, but she hasn’t in years.
“Brooklyn.” She glances up at me with her clear rimmed glasses on, and that smile that could light up the darkest of nights. “I haven’t heard you say Baby Doll in years.”
I chuckle. “When I saw you sitting there with your glasses on and your nose in a book, it just kinda slipped out.” I palm the back of my neck.
And you used to love the way I’d remove those glasses, folding the arms in and tucking them in my back pocket while I had my way with you. Over and over again.
“You look good,” she says.
I plonk myself down. Taking off my signature cowboy hat and placing it on the booth seat next to me as I ruffle my hair.
“The beard really suits you.”
I grin at the sound of that. I’ve been growing my scruff a little here and there, it’s short and manageable. Unlike me, Eden doesn’t have to try, she always looks good.
“Got a little sun and forgot to shave, that’s all it is.” I give her a chin lift. “What you doin’ so busily there?”
She smiles softly, those dimples in her cheeks appearing. “Just making some to-do lists for Blake’s party. Do you want a coffee first? We can go over a few things.”
I guess that’s why we’re here after all. “Sure thing.”
Aunt May is on her way over, so we order a coffee each and two of her homemade blueberry muffins.
“Aunt May asked me why we still fight it,” I say from nowhere once she’s out of earshot. I run a hand through my hair, suddenly feeling nervous but trying not to show it.
She stops tapping her pen and glances up at me. “Fight what?”
I shrug nonchalantly. “Who knows? Maybe she thinks we still have a spark. You know how people like to gossip and don’t get how we’re still friends.” I clear my throat. “So, how’s things with Kirk by the way?”
She stares at me for a long, hard moment, and for a second I have no idea what she’s about to say. She’s been seeing this guy for a few months, apparently he lives down in Atlanta, Georgia. “Things are good,” she says, but doesn’t elaborate. I suppose why would she elaborate to her ex-husband, or should I say, husband.
Fuck. It’s like I keep forgetting that little detail. Sitting here now with her, watching her shoulder length curls bounce as she moves her head, I feel like I’m home. It’s the small things no one else would notice; like the way she smooths out the page of her diary before she starts writing, all with her fresh manicure. I think it’s called a French manicure. The cute thoughtful face that she uses when planning special occasions, like adding to Blake’s party list. The way her long lashes frame her beautiful hazel eyes that look more ochre in the morning light of the cafe, and the sweet freckles on her nose.
It’s her ‘vibe’ as Georgia-Blue would call it. Her vibe is like a draw card.
