Then I remembered that Keira asked me a question so I answered her. “I don’t know, baby, what do you want?”

“Fried chicken,” she answered.

“That takes marinating,” I informed her of something she already knew.

“No, I mean Kentucky Fried Chicken, not Momalicious Fried Chicken.” She grinned and leaned a hip on the counter. “After a hard day at the garden center, I wouldn’t make my fabulous mother cook fried chicken.”

Oh shit, she wanted something.

I crossed my arms on my chest and looked at my daughter.

“All right, gorgeous, what do you want?”

She put her hand to her chest. “Moi?”

“Spill.”

“Just fried chicken,” she told me then smiled wickedly. “And a cut-rate American Husky doggie that’s cute, white and super fluffy.”

The dog. The damned dog. Since the barbeque all she could talk about was the two hundred dollar dog.

“We’ll talk about the dog later.”

“Mom!” she leaned into me. “The weeks are sliding by. They only have five puppies and they’ve already sold three.”

“Give me more time to think.”

“I can’t!”

“You can.”

“Mom –”

“Keira.”

We locked eyes and I knew I’d win, I always did. Keira had the patience of a gnat. In no time, she huffed and stomped a foot then started out of the kitchen.

“Hey,” I called after her as the phone started ringing. “Why’s Kate goin’ to Joe’s?”

“Dunno!” Keira called back and I grabbed the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey babe, get your ass down to J&J’s tonight,” Cheryl said in my ear. “I’m off and since your hot-as-shit, bad boy, player, next door neighbor is off limits and I’m feelin’ a hankerin’ for some man company, I need someone to go on the prowl with me.”

Since the barbeque Cheryl had started to call me daily. I knew why. One, she was a nice person. Two, she liked me. Three, she knew it sucked my husband died and thought I needed a friend. Four, she knew it sucked that Joe had played me and thought I needed a friend. Five, she knew it sucked that Daniel Hart was messing with my head and thought I needed a friend. And six, she didn’t have a lot of friends and even I knew I was a good one, she obviously guessed I was, so she wanted me to be her friend.

Feb had told me the day after the barbeque that Cheryl had asked for my number and Feb asked if it was okay if she gave it to her. I said yes and since then every day she’d called.

“Cheryl –”

“Not that you’d be my first choice seein’ as you’re hot too, so you might cut into my action, but Colt’s workin’ so Feb’s home with the kid. Jessie’s a f**kin’ loon and she scares me a little. Mimi’s got kids and Al’s out with his buds tonight so she’s in. Dee’s workin’ so she’s out and I got a night off and a babysitter so it has to be you and it has to be tonight.”

“Cheryl, there’s something I haven’t told you,” I said, grabbing a soda from the fridge and heading to my bedroom, opening it with a pop and fizz.

“What?” Cheryl asked.

“Hang on, I need to get to my room,” I said quietly, even though there was music coming from Keira’s room, another boy band playing so she probably couldn’t hear me but you couldn’t be too careful.

“Ooo, juicy if the girls can’t hear,” Cheryl said into my ear.

I closed the door to my room, took a drink from my pop and sat on my bed.

“It’s about Joe.”

“Your hot-as-shit, bad boy, player, next door neighbor?”

I grinned at the phone. “Yeah, him.”

“What about him?”

“Well…” I hesitated, “it’s back on.”

“What?” Cheryl yelled.

“Um…”

“How long?”

“What?”

“How long’s it been back on?” Cheryl was getting crotchety with impatience.

“Since the night of the barbeque.”

She was quiet a moment then slowly, she said, “You. Are. Shittin’. Me.”

“No.”

There was a pause then a shrieked, “Why haven’t you told me?”

“I was, um… he went out of town and I wasn’t sure that, um… when he got back that we’d still…”

“Is he back?”

“He got back yesterday.”

“Are you still –?”

“Yeah.”

“I knew it.”

“You did?”

“Girl, a man does not get like he got when those flowers were delivered when it’s nothin’ but a convenient next door booty call.”

“It’s still a booty call.”

“Bullshit.”

“No, he made that clear. It’s just sex.”

I heard a “poof” sound of expelled breath over the phone then, “Yeah, right.”

“Colt got intense when the flowers were delivered too,” I reminded her.

“Yeah, Colt also had the ass**le of all ass**les doing sick f**k crazy ass shit to him and Feb for twenty freakin’ years so he knows your pain like no other.”

Cheryl did too, she was involved in that mess as well, not for twenty years but also not in a good way, not that there was a good way in that mess, except maybe the fact that the crazy guy ended up being riddled with bullets. She’d told me all about it a couple of nights ago. I’d been astonished that she’d pulled it together so fast. It had been over a year ago, but still, she was right. It was “sick f**k crazy ass shit” and she made it to the other side.

Then again, Cheryl had shared other stuff in her life so I got the firm impression she was a fighter.

“Your hot-as-shit, bad boy, player, next door neighbor doesn’t know your pain,” Cheryl went on in my ear. “He’s just goin’ all alpha male when someone f**ks with his woman.”

My heart lurched and I whispered, “I’m not Joe’s woman.”

“Babe, seriously? Wake up.”

“I’m not.”

“All right,” she said, “tell me, how are you not?”

“Well, he hasn’t asked me out on a date,” I started.

“He f**k you?”

“Um… yeah.”

“That’s a date to a guy,” she declared. “Next.”