Page 225 of Josephine and Clay

I lift an eyebrow.

"Clay looked miserable before."

My chest tightens. "He did."

"And every time somebody mentioned you, he looked slightly less miserable."

I glance down at my drink. "That's hardly scientific."

"No, but I've watched enough bad reality television to recognize a man in trouble."

"Penny."

"I'm serious." She leans forward. "Maybe this crashes and burns."

Not exactly encouraging. "Thanks."

"Maybe it doesn't."

I fall quiet.

Outside, somebody parks badly enough to require three separate attempts.

Buckhorn entertainment.

Penny reaches across the table and squeezes my wrist. "You don't have to decide today whether he'll still be here in ten years."

The simple truth of it settles somewhere inside me.

No, I don't. I only have today. And today, Clay is home.

When lunch ends, I walk back toward the clinic feeling a little lighter.

By two o'clock, I'm standing in an exam room waiting for test results when my phone buzzes in my pocket.

I pull it out automatically.

A text from Clay.

Clay: How many goats have escaped today?

The corners of my mouth betray me immediately.

Josie: One.

Three dots appear instantly.

Clay: Amateur numbers.

Josie: Says the man who nearly got dragged through a fence by a calf.

Clay: That calf cheated.

Josie: That's not how calves work.

Clay: You weren't there.

I bite back a laugh.