Folk Around and Find Out (Good Folk: Modern Folktales #2)(126)

“You can’t lie, Momma.” Frankie tore into another slice of pizza, shaking his head. “You’re the worst liar.”

Her head moved back an inch on her neck and her assessing green gaze swung to me. “I try not to lie, but I do keep secrets. What about when you were kids, when Hank and I were dating? I kept that secret from all of you until we were sure you were ready to hear it. See?”

“Come on.” Joshua wiped his hands on a napkin. “We all knew you were never ‘just friends.’ We knew you were together. Y’all thought you were so sneaky, keeping it from us kids, but we knew.”

“I—I—what?” Charlotte’s arms dropped, her mouth hanging open.

“All that kissing in closets, you should’ve just saved yourself the trouble and told us from the get-go. And when you sat us down and wanted to know what we thought about y’all being together? Remember that? We knew the whole time.” Joshua sighed.

“You did?” I asked.

“Of course we did.” Frankie, who’d been only four when we’d sat them down, smirked at his momma. “Kimmy used to tell us to be quiet about it and let y’all tell us in your own time. She didn’t want to rush you.”

“Kimmy did that?” Charlotte’s eyes landed on me, her gaze probing.

I shrugged for the third time in less than a half hour, finding these versions of events just as surprising as she seemed to.

“Your problem is you trust too easy, Momma. You take folks at face value. You shouldn’t do that,” Joshua said pragmatically, and I fought an eye roll. He did the exact same thing. Not to the same extent as his mother, but he trusted more than was wise. One day, someone would break that trusting heart of his. I just hoped it wouldn’t turn him bitter.

“Well.” Charlotte’s arms dropped. “I’m—you all—you should have told me. I’m hurt and—and upset.” Charlotte’s voice broke, making the fine hairs on the back of my neck raise.

Before I could cross to her, she darted into the bedroom, apparently taking my heart with her based on the intensity of the ache in my chest. Damn it.

Grimacing, I glared at the boys. “You two need to be nicer to your momma. She does so much for you and picking on her ain’t how you get to heaven.”

Looking abashed, my sons shared a look and ducked their heads. I turned toward the bedroom, but then turned back suddenly, needing to say one more thing.

“Your momma is trusting, but she’s not the problem here. The problem isn’t the people who trust, the problem is the people who are untrustworthy. It shouldn’t be on your mother to change something about herself that’s good and pure-hearted. The world needs to change, not her.”

Joshua swallowed thickly and nodded once. “Sorry.”

Frankie said nothing, just gave me a contrite head nod, so Joshua smacked the back of his head.

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry, Dad.” Frankie rubbed his neck. “We’ll apologize later.”

“You better.” I backed up toward the bedroom, giving them my serious-business face. “Dance with her at the wedding, that’ll make it up.”

“Okay,” they said, munching on their pizza with less enthusiasm.

Rounding the corner for the hall, I sighed and mentally prepared an apology. I knew after this many years married to the woman and her tender heart, she’d expect an apology from me. Obviously, I didn’t like seeing Charlotte upset and I never wanted to see her hurt. Her tears were like little drops of acid raining on my brain, making me feel desolate.

That said, after I’d promise her the moon and then deliver it, she’d settle down, work through her disappointment, and we usually ended up having make-up sex.

So . . .

“Charlotte?” I knocked on the door lightly. “Can I come in?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice sounding tight.

I frowned, prepared to offer her another moon, and gathered a deep breath.

I then opened the door. “Angel, I’m so sorry . . .”

I blinked, and that’s all I could do because my wife did not look upset. She looked sexy as fuck and I hastily shut the door behind me, my eyes moving over the burgundy bra and panty set, the matching thigh-highs, and the spiked heels encasing her feet.

“Hank,” she said, using her temptress voice.

I responded with the only word in my brain. “Wife.”

Her slow smile had me locking the door behind me.

Not knowing where to look, I looked everywhere. “I’m here to apologize.”

“What for?”

“Whatever you need me to apologize for, just as long as it increases my chances of getting laid in the next”—I glanced at my watch—“forty-five minutes.”

She laughed, venturing closer but not close enough. “And I can’t keep secrets? I had y’all fooled. That’ll teach them to underestimate their mother. I still got it going on. Ha!”

“So you’re . . . not upset? About Tommy and his suit?”

“No.” She made it to where I stood and gripped my tie. She then walked backward until her legs connected with the console table along the wall. “Putting a fifteen-year-old in an all-white suit was a terrible idea.”

“But you’re not mad we kept it from you? What happened?”