Page 48 of Blame it on the Bet
“Uh, yeah, I think so…”
I half expect her to mock me. But that’s not what Hennessy O’Halloran does.
“It’s okay,” she says quietly. “I know it can be unnerving. It’s happened to me, too. I don’t know how she does it or why it happens, it just does.”
There’s something about the way her bright blue eyes are fixed on mine that sends a wave of warmth through my chest. And then she smiles at me.
I’m not a romantic guy. I’ve never believed in all of this love at first sight nonsense. But right here, right now, in this bizarre little pie shop, the earth has shifted on its axis with a single sweet, gentle smile. I can’t really describe it. I certainly can’t explain it. Suddenly, I know without a doubt that I’d give my right arm to wake up to that smile every day of my life.
“Thank you,” I say, grabbing her hand and giving it an impulsive squeeze. She looks a little perplexed…and amused. But she doesn’t pull away.
“You’re welcome,” she replies, without so much as a clue that she’s just changed my entire life.
After a long moment, I let her go, and we each return to our little slices of heaven.
Chapter Nineteen
HENNESSY
I don’t have the slightest idea what’s just passed between Bryan and me, but I know it was significant. It’s a moment of such intensity that it’s almost painful to sustain it…so I don’t. I break the spell.
“So was Janet right?” I ask him as he savors another bite of sweet potato pie.
“About what?” he mutters through a mouthful. “About the pie. Is it a ‘past’ pie?”
He nods at me, holding up a finger that indicates I should hang on a second while he finishes chewing. Once he’s swallowed, he takes a gulp of the coffee and wipes his mouth before answering.
“Yeah, I suppose it was. My grandmother used to make sweet potato pie. It was her thing. And I haven’t had any since she died.”
“And was she right about you being from the South? I mean, because I just assumed you were from the west coast…” He looks at me for what feels like a long time before he speaks. And when he does, his voice is softer—more hesitant
than I’ve ever heard from this overly confident man. “Yeah, I’m from North Carolina, actually. My mother still lives there, just outside of Charlotte.” Well, that begs the next question… “And your father?”
An awkward pause follows, and I’m starting to think he’s not going to answer. But then he does.
“He and my mom are…estranged, I guess you could say. He’s in North Carolina, too.”
This piques my curiosity.
“And where is he?”
“Oh, uh, well, you probably wouldn’t know it. It’s just a tiny little speck on the map in a rural area. It’s called Butner.”
I feel my eyebrows go up in surprise as he mentions the familiar name.
“Really? I have a friend who lives in Butner! She’s a public defender as well. And since that’s where the big federal prison is…”
The realization hits me like a piano falling from the sky. A grand piano, not one of the little upright jobbies. While plenty of people work in Butner, no one really lives there. That is, except for the inmates of the penitentiary. I see from his expression that he’s just watched me put the pieces of the puzzle together.
“I could use a top-up on my coffee,” I say brightly, waving at our server. “How about you, Bryan? Or maybe you’d like another piece of pie? I wouldn’t mind trying the sweet potato if you want to share a slice.”
The smile that he bestows on me is real. It’s not the one that he practices in the mirror so he’ll appear charming as he tries to win friends and influence people. This one is tentative and…what? Grateful. He’s accepting the life ring I’ve just tossed him.
“Yeah, I could go for some more pie,” he replies. “But we’ve got to get extra whipped cream this time, okay?”
“Well, duh!” I answer, taking a page out of Bailey’s book. We both laugh…and it’s nice.
…
