Page 82 of The Best Shot

When I’d asked him not to see anyone else, I’d braced for some version of let’s not make this a whole thing.

But all he’d said was okay.

Just okay.

That was us, apparently. Me arriving somewhere he’d already been. Him never mentioning how long he’d waited.

Beside me, Hale said nothing.

But I felt him shift, just slightly, just enough, toward me.

25

“I’VE ALWAYS BEEN FAIR.”

YASMINE

The bank sat at the end of Main Street, between a gallery that sold mountain landscapes and a bakery with a line out the door every Saturday morning. The sidewalks were swept clean, the storefronts painted in tasteful shades of cream and sage, every bench and planter placed for maximum curb appeal.

I pulled up to the curb and killed the engine. Five o’clock traffic crawled past. Inside the bank, the last few customers were being herded toward the doors while tellers closed drawers and counted down their tills.

CeeCee came out a minute later in a navy blazer, slacks, and her name tag already unclipped and dangling from her fingers like she couldn’t get it off fast enough. She moved carefully, seven months pregnant now and visibly over everyone’s shit.

I leaned over and pushed the passenger door open. CeeCee lowered herself in with a groan, hauled the door shut, and tipped her head back against the headrest.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey.”

“Tired?”

“Tired and hot and uncomfortable. Once again, this kid better be⁠—”

“Cute as fuck. Yes, you’ve said.”

She grunted.

I decided against poking a woman who’d been on her feet all day and merged into traffic.

CeeCee turned her name tag over in her fingers. “Your mother came by today.”

“Did she?”

“Did her business, then asked to speak with me. I told her I was busy. She said she’d wait.” CeeCee let out a tired little laugh. “Thought she’d get the picture when I didn’t make time. But she sat there an hour and a half in the lobby until I finally broke away.”

Of course she did. Mama could wait forever if it meant you felt every minute of it.

“Hmm.”

“She wants me to come by for dinner. Catch up about the baby. Just the two of us.”

I glanced at her, surprised.

CeeCee had been that woman in every voicemail. Now she was getting dinner invitations. Apparently my mother wasn’t as mad about her leaving as she was about me taking her side.

“Okay,” I said. “You going?”

“She’s my kid’s grandmother.”