She looked at me and then Naomi.
“You two have been good for my grandsons. Maybe even better than they deserve. And I’m speakin’ as a woman who loves the crap out of those boys.”
“I’m thinking about quitting my job,” I blurted out.
All eyes came to me.
“Really?” Naomi asked hopefully.
Sloane frowned. “Don’t you make a butt ton of money?”
“Yes. I do make a butt ton of money. But…” I trailed off. Nash had used a moment of preorgasm weakness to get me to admit that I wanted more with him. But was I really considering leaving my job and my choose-your-own-adventure lifestyle to settle down?
I thought about Nash standing in the rain, holding on tight.
The free fall before the chute opened.
The tip-tap of Piper’s little nails on the floor as she pranced around with some new toy.
The bluest eyes.
The biggest heart.
I blew out a breath. Yep. I really was considering it.
“Would that mean you officially moving here?” Naomi prodded.
I was saved by answering when Waylay tromped into the room wearing waterproof boots and holding a shivering Piper. “The dogs got in the creek and Piper tried to follow,” she announced. “She didn’t seem to mind it too much until the current got her.”
“Brave girl,” I crooned, taking the dog from her. Despite her soggy shivers, Piper’s little tail wagged heartily. “Thanks for pulling her out.”
Waylay shrugged. “No problem. What are you guys doing?”
“We’re finalizing the seating chart, finishing the favors, and choosing between these three Knox-approved tablescapes,” Naomi said, pointing at the pictures she’d taped to the wall next to her sticky-note seating map. “What do you think about the denim and daisies one?”
“This is what bachelorette parties are?” Waylay asked disdainfully. “I knew Jenny Cavalleri was lying when she said her aunt got arrested in Nashville during her bachelorette party!”
“Actually that was true,” Sloane said. “She had a little too much to drink, flashed an entire bar from the back of a mechanical bull, and then got caught peeing in the gutter.”
“I think you guys are doing this bachelorette thing wrong,” Waylay observed.
“This isn’t really a bachelorette party,” Naomi explained. “Knox and I didn’t want bachelor and bachelorette parties.”
“But the guys went out,” Waylay said.
“They’re just having a few drinks and some baskets of fried food,” I told her.
“The kid’s right,” Liza J announced, slapping a hand to her thigh. “This sucks.”
Naomi pouted prettily. “But what about the seating chart?”
Amanda snatched the remaining sticky notes off the coffee table and slapped them onto the wall in all the empty seats. “Voilà! Everyone has a seat.”
Naomi chewed on her lower lip. “But you didn’t even read the names. What if someone needs to sit closer to the restroom, or what if they don’t get along with their table mates? We can’t just make big decisions like this on a whim.”
I reached out and squeezed her hand. “Actually, you can.”
“What about the tablescapes?” she asked.
“Naomi, it’s always been the daisies,” I told her.
She bit her lip and stared at the photo for a long moment and then her eyes started to sparkle. “It has, hasn’t it?”
I nodded. “Sometimes you don’t have to weigh every single pro and con. Sometimes the answer is the one that just feels right.”
I wasn’t sure if I was telling her that or myself.
She pursed her lips, then grinned. “We’re going with the daisies.”
Naomi’s mother clapped her hands. “Okay, people. We need wine, snacks, face masks, and one to two romantic comedies.”
“On snack and wine duty,” I volunteered.
“If you’re getting snacks, I’m coming with you,” Waylay insisted.
“If you’re getting wine, I’m coming,” Liza J announced.
“Team Shopping reporting for duty,” I said.
“Perfect,” Naomi’s mom said. “Sloane, you can help me turn the living room into sleepover central. We need all the pillows and blankets that don’t belong to dogs.”
“What should I do?” Naomi asked.
“You should drink a large glass of wine and review your packing list for the honeymoon.” I nudged the pink notebook titled Honeymoon on the coffee table in her direction.
“I don’t think Grover’s sells candy penises, Liza J,” I said, grabbing a shopping cart as we entered the freshly painted grocery store. It was late, minutes from closing, and the parking lot was almost empty.
“Ew! I thought we were coming here for snacks,” Waylay complained.
“Gummy penises are snacks,” Nash’s grandmother said.
“Hey, at least I didn’t say broccoli florets,” I told the girl.
“Aunt Naomi made me eat beets last night at dinner,” Waylay said with a shudder. “Beets!”
“Well, there won’t be any beets tonight,” I promised, heading for the candy aisle. “Have at it.”
Waylay’s face lit up and she started tossing bags of candy into the cart. “We’ll get snack cakes for Grandma, and Sloane likes Sour Patch Kids.”
“I’ll go ask where they keep the penises,” Liza J said and ambled off.
“Oooh! These are good. You ever have them?” She handed me a bag of individually wrapped brightly colored discs.
“Sunkist Fruit Gems,” I read out loud. I’d never had them, but they looked vaguely familiar.
“Yeah. Gettin’ kidnapped wasn’t all bad. These are the candy things that Hugo guy was obsessed with. He musta ate half a bag before my mom came back with Aunt Naomi. There were wrappers everywhere. He let me have some. The yellow are my favorite.”
It all coalesced in my head in an instant. I knew where I’d seen this candy before and I knew who bought it.
I patted my pockets and dug out my phone.
“What’s wrong? You look all hyper. You’re not gonna call Aunt Naomi and ask her how many bags we can buy, are you?”
I shook my head and dialed Nash. “Nope. I’m calling your uncle to tell him you just identified our henchman.”
“I did?”
Nash’s phone was ringing. “Come on. Come on. Shit,” I muttered when it went to voicemail. “Nash. It’s me. Burner Phone Guy is Cereal Aisle Guy. Mrs. Tweedy was with me when we met him in the grocery store. He was buying the same kind of candy that Waylay said is Duncan Hugo’s favorite. There were candy wrappers all over the warehouse floor in the crime scene pictures. I saw him again at Honky Tonk the night Tate Dilton caused a scene. I know it’s not much to go on, but I feel it in my gut. Call me back!”
“Whoa,” Waylay said when I hung up. “That was a lot of words real fast. You sound like my friend Chloe.”
I clapped my hands on her shoulders. “Kid, I’m buying you a cartload of candy.”
“Cool. So who’s Cereal Aisle Guy?”