“I’ll be waiting.” Her hand brushed his when she handed off the bowl. He wasn’t surprised at the electricity that passed between them—not one bit.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Dark clouds shifted back and forth over a skinny crescent moon doing its best to throw a little light into Mitzi’s room that evening. A soft breeze brushed the limbs of the old pecan tree against the window. Like everything else, both of those made her think of the situation she had with Graham and the problems her friends were facing.

Jody had been like a dark sky with no visible moon until Quincy came into her life. Now there was a ray of light, however slim, in her eyes. For that, Mitzi would always appreciate Quincy. Paula, with her pregnancy by a total jerk, had lived with no light for months until she unburdened herself of the secret. After she’d confronted Clinton, it seemed like she was happier.

Mitzi couldn’t sleep, so she sat up in bed and stared at that sliver of a moon hanging right outside her window. She fell back on her pillow, turned her back to the window, and shut her eyes tightly, trying to will herself to sleep, but it didn’t work. Her mind wouldn’t stop spinning in circles. Getting this thing settled once and for all with Graham had to be done, and soon.

She padded barefoot down to the kitchen, heated up a cup of milk, and added chocolate syrup to it. That usually worked wonders when it came to making her drowsy, but after half an hour, she was still wide awake. The clock on the microwave said it was twelve thirty—too late to text Graham.

Finishing off the last sip of milk as she carried the mug to the sink, she made a decision. It might be rash and quite possibly wouldn’t produce a thing, but she had to try, or else she’d toss and turn all night. She couldn’t just go marching down to his house and ring the doorbell at that time of night, she told herself. But if she didn’t she wasn’t going to sleep a wink. She made a deal with herself that if the house was totally dark, she’d come back home, but if there was a light on anywhere in the house, she’d ring the doorbell.

Before she lost her nerve, she took a deep breath and headed for the front door. She froze when it squeaked as she opened it. For a few seconds she couldn’t move. The cool air from the house rushed out past her, while the hot night air almost seemed to push her back into the house. She started to close the door but couldn’t make herself do it.

“Now or never,” she whispered as she stepped out onto the porch. She didn’t have keys, so she eased the door shut and didn’t lock it. She’d be less than a block away, and most likely she’d be back in five minutes. The grass was cool and slightly wet on her bare feet as she crossed a couple of lawns on her way to Graham’s house. Thank goodness no dogs set up a howl or folks appeared on their porches with loaded shotguns. That had to be a good sign, didn’t it?

When she reached her destination, she found no lights pouring out from the downstairs windows. Looking up at the second floor, nothing shone there, either. But from the tour of the house the girls had given her, she remembered that his bedroom looked out over the back of the place. An unlocked gate would be her sign to continue this crazy venture. She pushed and it swung wide open, without even the tiniest squeak.

She was looking up at the dark windows when Graham’s deep voice startled her. She jerked around to see where it came from, stepped in a gopher hole, and had to grab the porch post to keep from falling.

“I haven’t been drinkin’,” she said and wished she could grab the words and cram them back into her mouth. “That sounded kind of crazy, didn’t it?”

“Not so much,” Graham said. “I’m having a beer. Want one?”

“Yes,” she answered, but she was glued to the post. She hadn’t thought ahead to plan what she would say, and now no words were coming from her brain to her mouth.

“Guess you couldn’t sleep, either,” he said. “Come on up here and sit with me on the swing. You been thinking about this talk we’re supposed to have, too?”

“Yes, I have, and here we are.” Mitzi took a step toward his voice. The wood on the porch scraped her feet after the cool grass, but it was level and didn’t have gopher holes. With a pounding heart she took a few more steps and then heard him pull the tab on a can of beer. Another step to the door leading into the screened porch, and a little flame from a match lit up the darkness. The glow of a jar candle flickered on the table in front of the swing where he sat. She stepped around a bistro set and almost turned around and ran back home when she realized that her hair was a mess, she didn’t have a drop of makeup on—and she was wearing baggy pajama bottoms and no bra under her oversize T-shirt.

Graham handed the beer to her and patted the other end of the swing. She took it from him, sat down, and then noticed that the candle and a long lighter were sitting on the top of one of those tiny dorm-size refrigerators. “Like you said, here we are. According to the girls, I’ve been hard to live with since you turned me down for a date.”

Mitzi took a long drink from the can and turned to face Graham. “I get the same thing from my family. But that’s the problem, isn’t it?”

“I like you, Mitzi, and I think you like me, too.”

“You’re right, I like you, Graham.” There. She’d said it, and it felt good to get that much out. “Do I hear a but in your voice?”