Page 17 of Croc Food

“Of course,” Bitsy said, parroting my exact words. “Start afresh, yes.”

“I do like you! Everything about you! I was just an idiot, that’s all. I promise.”

The rest of her family was giving me very unpleasant looks, as if wondering what exactly Bitsy saw in me. At this point, I didn’t know myself.

“All right,” she said sweetly, but there was something in her eyes that made me uneasy.

“It’s really all right?”

“Yes, I perfectly understood you. Much regret.”

Well, those were all the right words, but somehow I hated them anyway.

Because there was something wrong. She didn’t have the same spark in her eyes.

“I was so afraid you were going to leave me.”

She only looked over at me.

“Were you now? That’s nice.”

“Of course I was! I love you very much. Let’s just forget I said anything.”

“This idiot cannot be worth that,” one of her uncles put in, and I had to admit the difference between her family and mine. For everything that Bitsy did for them, they were absolutely ride or die for her. What looked like every single thing she’d ever made for them from kindergarten on up was carefully displayed on shelves or on the wall.

The entire house showed how much they loved and supported each other.

If I thought my gut was already as low as it could go, I felt it sink even lower, oozing down my legs and seeping into my ankles.

This was what Bitsy was used to. This open love and adoration of everything she did.

And what had I done? I’d made her feel like she needed to change.

“How’s it going, pond scum?” Granny greeted me with an elbow to the gut.

Damn, I thought Granny had been the only person who liked me!

“W-what do you mean?”

“I mean are there any brains in your head or is it just hair there?”

I flattened my curls self-consciously. Without hair gel they had a tendency to stick up all over my head.

“I was willing to accept this marriage,” Granny said. “Because the Lord knows a good girl like her deserves some airhead arm candy, but that’s when I assumed you were smart enough to realize what a prize you had.”

“I do,” I hastened to reassure her. “I know exactly what I’ve got. I messed up, I know I did. But I apologized and I’m making it better.”

She eyed me with loathing.

“Well, see that you do. I’ve a mind to come up there and visit, make sure you’re behaving.”

“You are welcome anytime,” I said miserably.

And then when it came time for dinner, suddenly Bitsy appeared with a bowl in front of me.

In it was Bitsy’s classic thick gumbo with a huge piece of cornbread on the side.

“Here you go, oh most revered and glorious husband. Men must eat first, as they are our betters. Therefore I submit this humble offering to you.”