THINGS HAVE SETTLED INTO A nice routine for me and Sammy these last few weeks and, for that, I’m grateful. During the day, Sammy stays with Kay or Annie, and plays with Carter when he gets out of school, while I help my dad in the fields. In the evenings, we hang out at home. Sometimes, we have company over, but, for the most part, it’s just the two of us getting to know each other and making our own memories. Sammy loves it when I play the guitar for her, especially when I sing. Sometimes, she sings along. She also likes to help me sand furniture. Anywhere I am, there she is also, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Time seems to move slowly, yet fast at the same time. As a kid, I never knew what my dad was talking about when he would talk about how fast time flies. Now, I get it.
I feel like Sammy changes and grows every day.
I guess I’m doing a little changing too. I’m getting better at fixing Sammy’s hair and I’ve learned to cook something other than grilled cheese and frozen pizza. Of course, Annie and Kay both love bringing us food but they understand I’m trying to do as much as I can by myself. They don’t necessarily like it, but they understand.
One thing that hasn’t changed is how much I miss Piper, or maybe it has, because with each day that passes, I feel like I miss her a little more.
I feel restless.
Sammy went to bed over two hours ago, but I’m still up. I tried working on some new songs, but I couldn’t concentrate. So now, I’m wandering around the house looking for something to do.
Walking down the hall, I peek my head into Sammy’s room for the umpteenth time, but she’s still fast asleep, arms wrapped tight around Bubba. After watching her for a minute, I end up in my room, staring into my closet. There are a couple of boxes that are still unpacked. Now seems like as good a time as any, so I begin opening them up.
One is full of keepsakes from my time on the road. Band merch, pictures, gifts from fans. They’re all reminders of a chapter in my life that’s closed. Those ten years I spent on and off the road were some of the best times of my life, but I can honestly say I’m fine with leaving all of that in the past. I know with Sammy in my life I have even better adventures ahead.
I grab a pen from a nearby shelf and write the word “storage” on the outside before taping it back closed and pushing it to the side of the closet.
When I open the second box, I feel like the air has been knocked out of me. There, on top of more band shirts, is a small, black velvet box. Of course, I know what’s inside, but I have to open it. Looking down at the ring I proposed to Piper with floods me with emotions I wasn’t prepared for. It’s an odd mixture of happiness and regret.
And something else that’s been brewing inside me since my talk with Deacon—determination. I made this mess. I did this. I pushed Piper away and never gave her a choice. So, I’m determined to find a way to fix it.
Without another thought, I grab my phone from my pocket and dial Micah’s number. It’s just past closing time at Lagniappe, so I know he’s up.
“Hey, man,” he answers. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, sorry for callin’ so late, but I was hopin’ you and Dani would come over for dinner tomorrow night.”
“You cookin’?”
“We can order out if you want.”
“Then we’ll be there,” he says with a laugh.
Fucker.
“Great, see ya then.”
The line goes dead and I sit there for a minute, turning over in my mind the plan that’s been building. Also, knowing I made the right decision calling Micah. If that would’ve been Deacon, he’d have asked a million questions and wanted to know everything.
Micah’s not like that. Sometimes, he’s a man of few words, which works perfectly with my plan, because tomorrow night, I’ll be picking Dani’s brain.
Looking around my closet, there are no more boxes to unpack or go through. So, after I take the ring box out and tape the second box up, I turn the light off and walk over to my bed, free falling onto it with a thud.
As I hold the ring box up, opening it to display the diamond, I think about calling Piper, but it’s an hour ahead in Connecticut. I don’t know what her schedule is like or if she’s asleep. I feel like I don’t know anything that’s going on in her life right now and it kills me.
The fear that’s been tickling the back of my brain the last few weeks comes to haunt me.
What if I’m too late?
What if she’s moved on?
I just wish she would fucking talk to me. Ever since she left for Connecticut, she’s been distant, like she’s putting up a wall between us. When I ask her about her job, she gives me shit answers. She knows they’re shit. I know they’re shit. And she knows I know they’re shit.
But it doesn’t keep her from giving them and dodging the truth.
Everything else I ask her is answered with vagueness. The only time I feel like she’s being real with me these days is when we’re talking about Sammy, which is often.
She and Sammy even FaceTimed last week. I just sat back and listened, feeling content for the first time since she left.
Eventually, I must fall asleep, because the next thing I know, a small person is climbing into bed with me.
Maybe I shouldn’t let her. Maybe it’s a bad habit to start, but I can’t find it in myself to care. Reaching over, I flip the switch on my lamp and we both go back to sleep.
“Hey, Tucker.” Annie’s voice sounds chipper. She’s always a good person to talk to on the phone, because you instantly feel better.
“Hey, Mama A. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“It’s never a bad time,” she croons. “You know that. What’s up? Need me to watch Sammy?”
I smile, because that’s another thing Annie is always good at. She jumps on any chance to keep Sammy for me. I don’t know what I’d do without all the women in my life.
“No, Dad doesn’t need me until later and Kay said I could just bring her with me when I come,” I tell her, hoping I’m not hurting her feelings.
“Oh, well, that’s fine. I was plannin’ on coffee with Kay later. So, I’ll just see her then.”
“Well, I do need something . . . a favor, actually,” I tell her, needing to get to the point of my call before Sammy walks back into the room.
“Of course, what is it?” she asks, already agreeing to something she doesn’t even know about.
“Sammy’s birthday is coming up,” I start. “It’s actually the twenty-fifth, same as Mama’s.” I pause, realizing I hadn’t had a chance to tell Annie that yet. I shared it with Dad and Cami, but not Annie. There just hasn’t been an opportunity with everything else going on.
“Annie?” I ask, when she doesn’t say anything.
“Sorry,” she says and I swear I hear a crack in her voice. “I’m just, well, it’s amazing how things work out.”
“It is,” I agree. “Dad says he thinks Mama had a hand in all this.”
“I tend to agree with your dad.” Annie’s words are soft and thoughtful. “Anyway, what was the favor?”
“Well, you know Sammy thinks your house is a castle.”
Annie laughs. “Bless that child. God, I love her.”
I smile, feeling the same. “Yeah, well, I was wonderin’ if you’d be okay with us havin’ her party out at your place? I found a princess bounce house and Mrs. Martin is makin’ her a castle cake. I thought it might be fun to have the party at her real-life castle.”
“Oh, I’d love it,” she exclaims, and I can already hear the wheels turning.
“Now, no goin’ overboard. She’s just five. This isn’t gonna be a Landry shindig. We ain’t invitin’ the whole town,” I warn, knowing how she tends to go overboard on things like this.
“You hush, Tucker Benoit. A girl only turns five once. Besides, we have four years of birthdays to make up for.”
“Alright,” I finally say, because what else is there to say?
You don’t argue with Annie Landry.
“Good,” she says. “You leave the food and decoratin’ up to me.”
“Fine.”
“Oh, this is gonna be so fun! Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve planned a birthday party for a little girl? Years!”
And, the beast has been set loose.
“Yeah.” I can see there’s no turning back now, so I better just let her go. “Well, Sammy’s comin’, so I’ve gotta run.”
“Okay, we’ll talk soon.”
Hanging up, I slide my phone in my pocket and let out a deep breath.
“Daddy, are you sad?” Sammy’s question startles me, for more than one reason. I didn’t hear her come in the room, and I don’t want her worrying about me.
“No, sunshine. Why do you think that?” I ask, kneeling to her level, motioning her over to me. She walks over with a thoughtful look on her face, coming right into my arms.
“You just sighed,” she says, mimicking me. “You do that when you’re sad.”
“I do?” I look at her—really look at her, sitting down in the middle of the kitchen floor and pulling her onto my lap. “Well, I’m not sad. I have you. How can I be sad? You’re my sunshine.”
“Do you miss Piper?” she asks and I swear the air leaves my lungs, but I try to recover quickly.
“Why? Do you miss Piper?” Turning the question back around to her gives me a few more seconds to get my shit together.
“Yes,” she admits, so easily. “Why’d she have to go to Connect-icut?”
The way she butchers the state makes me laugh. Very seldom does Sammy miss a beat. Her language skills are better than kids two and three years older than her. But when she does, it’s freaking adorable.
Her frown tells me she’s not happy that I’m laughing. This is a serious talk. “Ahem, sorry.”
“She liked it here. She told me,” Sammy continues when I don’t answer her question.
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, when we FaceTimed, I asked her if she moved because she didn’t like it here anymore, but she said she liked it here. If you like a place, you stay there. My friend Charles moved because his mommy didn’t like their house.”
Sammy’s four-year-old reasoning makes me smile. And I agree, if you like a place, you should stay there.
“Do you think you could ask her to come back?” Sammy asks and I swallow, trying to school my features, because she’s sitting in my lap, facing me, as she plays with the cross I wear around my neck. But she has no idea what kind of loaded question she’s asking or how many times I’ve wondered the same thing.
“It’s not that easy, Sammy. Piper is an adult, and adults have responsibilities. They can’t just up and move places. She has a new job and a new place to live—”
“No, she doesn’t,” Sammy informs, interrupting my shitty excuse. “She lives with her parents.”
Her little eyebrows arch up and she gives me the cutest expression, like can you believe that?
It’s then I realize Sammy might know more about Piper than I do, and I’m not sure whether to be offended or happy about it.
“Well, I can’t just ask her to move back.” Even as the words leave my mouth, I’m not sure I believe them. Can I ask her to move back? If I did, would she?
“Where’d you get this?” Sammy asks, holding up the cross at the end of the chain around my neck.
“Uh,” I pause, wondering where all these hard questions are coming from. “My mama gave it to me. A long time ago.”
“When she was sick?” She asks the question so nonchalantly, like it’s normal conversation. To her, it is. To most kids her age, they don’t have the first clue about someone being sick, at least not the kind of sick she’s talking about. They don’t know about death and loss. They don’t know about grieving.
Sammy knows about all of that.
At first, I hated it. I hated that she had to experience the death of her mother. I hated that she had to see her deteriorate, but now, I can’t hate it, because I see what’s it’s making her into. She’s becoming one of the most empathetic people I know. And she’s four . . . almost five, going on twenty-five.
“Yeah, when she was sick. She gave it to me as a reminder that she’d always be watching over me. Just like your mama’s always watching over you.”
Sammy continues to run her thumb over the silver cross. “It’s pretty. What was your mama’s name?”
“Jessie,” I tell her. “Remember you share a birthday with her?”
“Yep.” Sammy’s smile breaks across her face.
“She’s watching over you too, sunshine.” I pull Sammy closer, kissing the top of her head and saying a silent prayer, thanking my mama for watching over me all these years, and for bringing me my own personal ray of sunshine.
“Come on, kiddo.” I help Sammy off my lap and then climb to my feet. “We gotta get ready for Uncle Micah and Aunt Dani. They’ll be here for dinner soon.”
“Yay!” Sammy takes off running down the hall toward her bedroom. I’ve already learned that her prepping for company and my prepping for company are two different things.
She’s probably setting up her table for tea.
I look around the kitchen and wonder what I’m making for dinner. I know I told Micah that I’d order something and pick it up, but I don’t feel like getting out and I’m running out of time. So, I walk to the fridge and take inventory.
An hour later, dinner is on the table, and there’s a knock at the door.
“I’ll get it,” Sammy yells, running around the corner.
“Ask who it is first,” I remind her. Not that we live in some big city, where strangers knock on your door, but I don’t want her to get too comfortable answering the door.
“Who is it?” I hear her yell.
“The Avon Lady and Cookie Monster,” Micah yells back.
“The Avon Lady and Cookie Monster,” Sammy repeats.
“Tell them to go away. We don’t need any,” I instruct with a laugh, waiting to hear Sammy repeat what I said, but she doesn’t. The next thing I know, an annoyed Sammy is standing in the kitchen with her hands on her hips.
“Daddy,” she says with way too much sass. “It’s Uncle Micah.”
“Oh, well, in that case, I guess you can let him in.”
She turns and stomps off back toward the door.
“Munchkin,” Micah exclaims, doing something to make Sammy squeal.
When they come into the kitchen, he has her turned upside down on his shoulder.
“Hey, where do you want this sack of potatoes?” he asks with a big ass grin.
“Eh, just put them down over there.” I gesture toward the table and he sits Sammy down in her chair.
“I swear, Sammy,” Dani says, taking the seat beside her. “We’re the adults.”
“Yeah, not those two.” Sammy’s winded as she pushes her hair out of her face and gives me and Micah a wide smile.
“Chicken nuggets and mac and cheese?” Micah asks, looking over my shoulder and stealing a nugget. “Really? Are we, like, four?” He kisses my cheek and I elbow him in the gut.
“Hey!” Sammy says, taking offense to Micah’s remark.
“Kiddin’.” He holds his hands up in surrender and takes the seat across from Sammy. “I love nuggets. You’re a pretty cute nugget. Maybe I’ll eat you.”
“No!” Sammy laughs. “I’m not food!”
I put the nuggets, mac and cheese, corn, and a big salad on the table.
“This looks great,” Dani says. “Thanks for the invite. I didn’t feel like cooking tonight.”
“Well, thanks for comin’ over.”
After we’ve all finished eating, Sammy puts her napkin on her plate and looks over at me.
“Can we have tea now?” she asks.
I should’ve known that was coming.
“Did someone say tea?” Micah asks, wiping his mouth and tossing his napkin on the table. “I could sure go for a cup of tea.” He takes on a terrible British accent for that last part.
Sammy giggles, covering her mouth.
“Shall we?” he asks, offering her his hand.
She takes it and skips away.
“God,” Dani mutters. “Those two are so cute.”
“You should get you one.”
She sighs, leaning back in her chair. “Nah, I think we’ll just borrow y’all’s for now. Besides, Micah’s competing for that Best Uncle title, and he’s pretty serious about it.”
“Yeah, he’s kinda puttin’ me to shame these days.”
“You’re not too shabby. These kids are definitely lucky.”
I nod, swallowing as I try to think of how to come out with what I want to say—the real reason I invited them over for dinner tonight.
“Well, let me help clean up dinner,” Dani offers, standing up and gathering a few bowls.
“You don’t have to do that. Really,” I tell her, taking the bowls from her and setting them beside the sink. “After Sammy goes to bed, I wander the house lookin’ for somethin’ to do.”
“This is different for you,” Dani says, leaning against the counter, her eyes on the floor. “When I first met you, I thought you were nothing but trouble.” She laughs, shaking her head as she looks back up at me.
“I was. Probably still am.” I smirk, smoothing my hair back.
“I know about you and Piper,” she says, wincing at the words. “I know I shouldn’t say this. Pretty sure I’m violating some best friend code, but I just want you to know that I know.”
Her words shock me.
But then again, they don’t.
I mean, how long could we go without anyone knowing. Deacon obviously caught on a long time ago, and somehow, kept his mouth shut, which is a miracle in itself.
I nod my head, trying to think of what to say now.
Letting out a deep breath, I start. “Well, that’s actually why I invited y’all over tonight. I wanted to talk to you.”
“About what?” she asks. Her expression is a mixture of leery and hopeful.
“Piper. I just . . .” I blow out another breath. “I messed up. I should’ve asked her to stay, or at least told her how I feel—gave her a choice. I need to fix it. But she’s not talkin’ to me. I can’t get her to tell me anything these days. She’ll hardly even talk to me about her new job.”
“She hates it,” Dani says, pushing off the counter. “She’s miserable.”
“Why won’t she tell me?”
“She doesn’t want you to worry about her. She says you have enough to worry about without her adding to it.” She gives me a tight smile. “You probably don’t know about Birmingham either or her leaving Southern Style?”
“All she would tell me is that she left because she felt like she had no room to grow.”
“That’s bullshit,” Dani says, a hint of anger coming to her tone. “She was basically coerced into quitting. Her boss found out about the proposal video—”
“Shit.”
Mother fucker.
“I can’t believe she didn’t tell me.”
“He held it over her head for a couple of months, making her jump through all his hoops until she couldn’t take it anymore. She told him to fuck off. He told her she was finished.” Dani sighs, crossing her arms. “She didn’t know what else to do. Without you and without her job, she didn’t feel like she had a place here anymore. She’s miserable in Connecticut—living with her parents, working a job her dad got for her. If you know anything about Piper, you know that’s a bad place for her.”
My heart squeezes.
Fuck.
I rub my hand over my chest, trying to get the tightness to ease up. “I’ve gotta get her back,” I tell her.
“Do you have a plan?”
“Not exactly, but I’m working on it. Can I count on you for help?”
Dani looks at me intently for a moment before answering. “I wasn’t sure you two were right for each other when Piper first told me, but you’re more alike than I realized. Bottom line, my best friend is miserable and I want her to be happy. You deserve to be happy, too, Tucker, and I think Piper is the one to make that happen, so, yes, I’ll help.”