Junkyard Dog(63)

“It’s Michael.”

“Oh, that’s much better.”

Hayes nuzzles my forehead with his lips. “What’s your middle name? You didn’t put it on any of your forms.”

“Don’t laugh.”

“I promise nothing,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s Corn.”

Hayes snorts. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“I am,” I say, grinning at his expression. “My mother didn’t give me a middle name. She said the only one she liked was “Cane,” but she thought it might make me hate her. She wanted Pot for Honey and Moss for Peat.”

“What about the twins?”

“They’re both Eddison. I figured if they had good middle names they’d resent using their silly first ones. I think silly names make people stronger.”

“Didn’t help Honey.”

“Oh, I don’t know. There’s a tough chick inside her somewhere. She just hasn’t been introduced yet.”

Hayes kisses my forehead and then my lips. I moan at the taste of steak on his tongue, but he won’t let the kiss deepen.

“If we have a son, his middle name can be Peat,” he says, returning to his steak. “I do insist we spell it correctly.”

“What if we only have girls, or I can’t get pregnant because your sperm is faulty? What will you do for an heir?”

“First, girls can be heirs as long as they act like me. Second, there is nothing wrong with my sperm. Third, if all else fails, I have your kids. They’re smart, and I’m fairly sure I can turn Cricket into a no-nonsense badass.”

“She does have the bitchy thing down.”

“I like how she stares at people until they’re uncomfortable. I wasn’t even that big a jerk at her age. She’s advanced, I guess.”

Smiling, I take a deep breath and accept Hayes and I are getting married. I’ll be this man’s wife. I might even have more children. I hadn’t believed we’d arrive at this moment since Hayes can be a tricky man to read. Now he’s put all his cards out on the table and made clear what he wants.





THIRTY EIGHT - HAYES


Balthazar’s skin glows from yesterday’s spa treatment. I want to mock the old man for getting a facial, but I keep my mouth shut instead. Later, Candy and I can giggle at Dad’s expense. For now, I’m on my best behavior. Though I think I’m giving myself hemorrhoids from behaving for so long.

On our second to last day at Disney World, we take out two golf carts and spend the early morning enjoying a manicured course. Candy drives her cart as well as she does her car, meaning I have to veer out of her way repeatedly to avoid colliding. She flips me off and tells me to stay in my lane.

“She’s an awful driver,” Balthazar says, sitting next to me.

“I’m not marrying her for her driving.”

“Are you sure you want to settle down? Kids are a big hassle.”

“Thanks, Dad,” I mutter.

“You were good, but her kids might be evil. I’ve never trusted twins.”

“They’re good kids. They just like messing with people. They get that from Candy.”

“Lizzy Anne says Candy is a gold digger.”

Imagining the housekeeper relaxing at the pool, I wonder if I should have a few words with her when we get back.

“Lizzy Anne’s opinion doesn’t mean shit to me.”

“You ought to get a prenuptial. I saw on TV how you need one.”

“Well, if it’s on TV, it must be true.”

“Don’t mock me, boy,” he says, frowning under his goofy, wide hat.

“If I want to piss away my money on a woman I love, what’s it to you or Lizzy Anne?”

“Just looking out for you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I like Candy,” Baltazar says. “She’s a horrible driver and will probably kill you while you sleep, but I think she’ll make a good mother to your kids. That’ll be important after you’re dead.”

Rolling my eyes, I look at Candy doing circles around the next hole. “Candy is my Gladys. I’ll be happy to die first, so I don’t have to live without her.”

Balthazar frowns at me. He’s probably pissed at me for comparing his precious wife to my future precious wife. Or maybe he thinks it’s strange to see me sentimental. Either way, I park the cart next to Candy’s and climb out.

“My grandpa crashed his cart one time,” Chipper tells me as I carry the club to where the ball rests.

“Old people aren’t great drivers. They’re usually better than your mother, though.”

Candy pokes me with her club and then plays swords with Cricket.

“No, Grandpa was drunk when he crashed.”

“Well, that would do it,” I say, leveling the club with the ball.

Chipper watches me hit the ball and then imitates me when I cover my eyes to see where it landed. Balthazar stands next to me and shakes his head.

“You’re rusty. I best take you golfing more often back in White Horse.”

I smile at his comment before hiding my grin by scratching my beard. Chipper scratches his chin like I did. He follows me around, imitating my every move. Chipper even decides to join me in my cart, and not because he’s afraid of his mother’s driving.