“Only some things. But what I cook, I cook well,” I said.

“Like what?” She grinned sweetly as she chewed.

“Breakfast foods mostly.”

“Does Taylor get up early enough for breakfast?” Travis teased.

“Shut up, asshole,” Taylor grumbled.

“I don’t know,” I said.

Everyone looked at me.

“We’re just friends,” I added.

Abby’s eyebrows shot up, and then she looked to Travis. “Oh.”

“Baby,” Travis said, “pass me the salt and pepper, would ya?”

Abby reached over and handed the small glass shakers to her husband. He seemed too young to be wearing a wedding band. They both did, yet those rings and their marriage seemed natural, as if they were always meant to love each other, working toward their forever.

“We were friends once,” Travis said, unaffected.

Abby pressed her lips together, trying not to smile. “Not that I didn’t fight it.”

Travis shook his head while he chewed. “Christ, did she ever.”

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say you enjoyed the chase,” I said.

The room filled with laughter, deep tones from the Maddox boys and Abby’s lighter cackles. It made me feel more at ease—the conversation, the laughter, the inflection of the back-and-forth. It felt like the dining area at the Bucksaw.

“So, you can relate?” she asked.

I stopped chewing, mid-bite.

Taylor looked at me, hope in his eyes.

When I didn’t answer, he looked to his brother. “So, how did you guys get from there to now?” Taylor asked. “Just … out of curiosity.”

Travis and Abby traded knowing glances. Travis took a bite of pork chop, and Abby rested her chin on her hand, smiling at him, so in love.

“We didn’t wait until we worked out our shit,” Travis said after he swallowed. “Otherwise, I’d still be chasing her.” He leaned over and kissed Abby’s cheek. “And thank fuck that’s over. Being with her and then without her felt a lot like dying slowly—with a little bit of crazy thrown in for good measure. You’ll see.”

Taylor shot me a quick side glance and then sawed at his pork chop.

Abby rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t quite that bad.”

Travis stopped chewing and looked at her. “It was exactly that bad.”

Just as Abby reached out to touch her husband’s cheek, the front door opened. We waited to see who had arrived, listening to footsteps padding down the hall along with the sounds coming from paper and plastic.

Another Maddox brother appeared, holding a brown sack. Below him stood a tiny girl holding small plastic sacks in each hand. Her platinum hair cascaded in soft waves over her miniature-sized peacoat. Her enormous bright green eyes targeted each one of us, one at a time.

“Olive!” Jim said. “How was Chicken Joe’s?”