“Are you afraid?” I say to the top of her head.

She nods into my chest. “Dis is wot I ucking get.” She’s muffled, so I lift her chin. Her mouth is a few inches away from mine. I remember how soft her lips are and have to fight back the urge to taste her. Which brings me to the most important question.

“Where is your husband, Olivia?”

She looks so sad, I almost regret asking.

“Don’t ask me that tonight, okay?”

“Okay,” I say, staring into her eyes. “You wanna go get some breakfrast?” She cracks a smile at my mispronunciation of the word. We used to say it like that.

We.

Used to.

She looks nervously toward the entrance of the building.

“Duchess,” I say, squeezing her arms. “I got you.” I give her a small smile.

“That’s good,” she nods, “because if he gets me, I’m in a lot of f**king trouble.”

I laugh at her dry humor and steer her toward the door.

We are met head-on by Cammie.

“WTF!” she says, throwing her hands in the air. “I didn’t know this was a f**ked-up relationship reunion.”

Olivia covers her eyes. “Don’t judge me.”

Cammie smacks me on the butt and hugs Olivia. “I told you I’d come right away, you didn’t have to call him.”

“I called him first,” she says. “He makes me feel safer than you do.”

“It’s his massive penis, isn’t it? He could just smack Dobson with it and he’d-”

“Let’s take my car,” I say, opening the door. Cammie climbs past me and stretches out on the backseat. “Hi, Cammie.”

She gives me a smile and I shake my head. Olivia’s best friend is her polar opposite. The two of them together were always a strange thing to behold. It was like watching a rainstorm when there were no clouds in the sky. One minute they were fighting, the next clutching each other in desperation.

“Well, look at us,” Cammie says. “All together again, like eight f**king years of lies and bullshit never happened.”

I look at her in my rearview mirror. “Angry much?”

“Nope, nope — I’m fine. Are you fine? I’m fine.” She folds her arms across her chest and looks out the window.

I glance at Olivia, who is staring out of her window, too distracted to pay attention.

“Can we just not fight tonight, Cam,” she says, half-heartedly. “He’s here because I asked him to be.”

I frown. I know better than to ask what is happening between the two of them. It could result in a screaming match. I turn into the parking lot of a Waffle House. Olivia watches my hand as I shift gears.

“So, did you tell him about Noah, O?”

“Shut up, Cammie,” she snaps. I look at her out of the corner of my eye, curiosity piqued.

“Tell me what?”

Olivia suddenly spins around in her seat and points a finger at Cammie. “I will destroy you.”

“Why would you do that when you’re so good at destroying yourself?”

I open my door. “Waffles. Mmmm.” A few more snide remarks fly back and forth until I cut them off.

“No one speaks until you’ve had five bites of food each.”

When they were twenty they’d start fighting as soon as their blood sugar was low. Ten years later and not much has changed. You keep them fed, or they’ll take you out. Like Gremlins.

They are both sour-faced and obedient until the waitress drops off our meals. I cut into my omelet and watch as they slowly come out of their funk. In a few minutes they’re laughing and taking bites of each other’s food.

“What are the police saying, Olivia?”

She sets down her fork and wipes her mouth. “After I won the case, he was convinced it was because I loved him and we were supposed to be together. So, I guess he broke out, and he’s coming to claim his bride.”

“Seems like that happens a lot,” Cammie says through a mouthful of waffle. “Your ex-clients becoming obsessed with you and self-destructing.” She sucks syrup off the tip of her finger and stares pointedly at me.

I kick Cammie under the table.

“Ow!”

Olivia props her chin in her hands. “Don’t you wish Dobson loved Leah instead?”

I try not to laugh — I really do. But, those little quips of hers … she’s just so damn-Cammie gives me a dirty look. “Stop looking at her like that.”

I don’t respond, because I know exactly what she’s talking about. I wink at Olivia. My ex-wife accused me of the same thing. When I look at her, I can’t seem to look away. It’s been that way since the first day I saw her under the tree. All other beauty, since then, has reminded me of her. No matter what it is, it’s just a reflection of Olivia. The little witch has me spellbound.

I catch Olivia’s eyes and we stay there for a good six seconds, locked in a gaze so intimate my stomach hurts when we look away. I see her throat working as she tries to swallow her emotion. I know what she’s thinking.

Why?

I think that every day.

I pay the check and we climb back into my car. The girls don’t want to go back to Olivia’s.

“Caleb, he could crush you,” Cammie says. “I’ve seen him in person. No offense, but I don’t think you could take him. He’d. Crush. You.”

Olivia’s head is between her knees. She doesn’t want to joke about something so serious, but it’s hard with Cammie and me making light of everything. I see her back shaking in silent laughter. I reach over and snap her bra.

“You too, Duchess? You don’t think I could take care of Dobbie?”

“Dobbie was torturing small animals by the time he could walk. I once saw him bite the head off of a mouse and eat it.”

I make a face. “Really?”

“No. But, he eats his meat very rare.”

I snicker. “Is it true what they said about his mother? Her molesting all those kids in that church?”

Olivia picks at some fluff on her pant leg and shrugs. “It would seem so, yes. He spoke many times about the things his mother would do to him. It makes sense — his need to, um … force women to love him after having a mother like that.”

“Damn,” says Cammie from the backseat. “I thought having daddy issues messed you up.”