from one day to the next we were reluctant friends. Then in high school, from one day to the next we were a couple. Two years ago, from one day to the next I found myself back in Sylas Broussard’s orbit though I had sworn to never return to him or Palmetto Grove. Now, here I am.
“Bethany, are you ready?” I ask into the intercom on my desk phone. This morning she asked if we could have a working lunch to discuss my calendar for next week.
“Be right there,” she giggles.
“Go away Chick,” I order with faux-grimness.
“Hey, boss lady, I can come see my woman any time I please. Sy said so,”
he adds a little sheepishly. And I can make out the sound of Bethany in the background aww’ing.
“Hey, I wear the pants in this relationship and what I say goes,” I say with no real gusto behind it.
“That a fact?” Sy says from the door to my office. I spin around in my desk chair like a little kid that has just been caught stealing the cookies. Still, I stick with it.
“Yep. I’m the boss lady. Says it there on my card,” I say pointing to the stack of business cards sitting neatly in the cradle on the corner of my desk. Sy waltzes into my office, shutting the door behind him and plucks one of the beautifully embossed cards from the stack.
“Broussard Consulting,” he reads. “Raegan Broussard, Founder and CEO,” his lips twitch and a soft smile tilts his full lips up. “Don’t think I’ll ever get tired of calling you Mrs. Broussard,” he says softly as he rounds my desk and plucks me out of my seat to draw my close to him.
“Me either,” I sigh. He nuzzles his nose into the space behind my ear and hums, sending tingles through my body.
“My door has a lock,” I offer.
“As good as that sounds Mrs. Broussard it’ll have to wait. We have guests showing up any minute.”
“Guests?” No sooner than the word is out of my mouth I hear my office door burst open.
“Happy birthday!” Bethany, shouts, as she comes into my office with a cake balanced in one hand and a gift bag in another. This is a pattern with her but it appears the cake selection has improved over the years because I spy a homemade carrot cake with Chantilly frosting in her hands. My mouth waters. “Yum,” I say eyeing the cake. Behind Bethany are my parents, Sy’s parents, Doug, Ellie and my adorable nephew Grayson Theodore Kearney. He will be one-year-old next week and I have been the very definition of the overbearing, doting, obsessed auntie. Thank God I don’t wear garish pink lipstick or go by the name Gerdy otherwise I’d feel compelled to dial things down a touch.
“Kit said to tell you happy birthday,” Ellie says handing Gray off to me and a familiar paper bag with Old Bayou Diner’s logo on it and a handwritten note from Kit.
“Mmm,” I begin to hum but stop, furrowing my brow and wrinkling my nose as something malodorous seeps into my nose. “Ugh, I think Gray needs a fresh diaper,” I swallow and wrinkle my nose with him on one knee and my lunch on the desk in front of me.
“I just changed him. Little stinker does it every time! Slap fresh diaper on and he’s got to go,” Ellie laughs scooping him off my lap before heading for the bathroom no doubt.
“Thank you,” I smile at everyone as I fish my lunch, my favorite grilled cheese sandwich from the paper sack. I unfold the foil wrapped and dive in and immediately know something is terribly wrong. My gut churns and a cold sweat covers my brow. “I think something is wrong with this sandwich,” I say managing not to audibly gag. It’s putrid. The whole thing reeks like gym socks.
“Had to be gas because he’s clean,” Ellie says rejoining the rest of us in my office. “Oh my god you look pale,” she says with her eyes wide.
“It’s the sandwich. Smell it,” I shove the offending sandwich at Sy and he backs away with his hands up.
“I love you wife but my hatred for cheese it in my genes.”
“Hey, you ate one of these once!” I argue.
“I was a desperate man but if you look like you’re gonna toss your cookies, then I’m definitely not inspecting it. Anyone else?” Sy motions toward my mother who is wearing a peculiar look on her face. She