Last night, I’d resigned myself to never having anything with Bourne again.
Then this morning, he’d hit me with all of that baggage as I was set to meet with the freakin’ governor.
So yeah, needless to say, I’d had a long day. A long day made even longer by the fact that the governor wasn’t as cool as I’d expected him to be.
And now that I was having to deal with the tattoo artist’s condescending looks? I wasn’t very happy.
I needed a cookie. Stat.
“I think you got the wrong impression,” Bourne murmured. “I told him that you were mad at me. He’s saying he understands that you’re mad.”
I thawed a bit.
He turned back to the tattoo artist. “Purple. I’d like purple irises.”
My heart melted. Right then and there. In a puddle of goo.
My phone rang, and I smiled as I picked it up.
“Hey, sis,” I said softly.
“It’s me,” Booth said. “I just wanted to talk to you about Asa’s doctor appointment today.”
My heart dropped to around my knees as I listened to him explain a few things.
“So he either has the Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome or migraines,” I murmured. “I have migraines, Booth. But Asa never ever complains about having headaches.”
“He did today,” Booth muttered. “That’s exactly what I said. And the doctor asked him a few questions about how he was feeling. Asa admitted that sometimes his head hurts while he’s in class. Quiet makes it feel better. So the doctor wants us to see a specialist for pediatric migraines in Dallas. I’ve made an appointment for him.”
I licked my lips, feeling suddenly very insignificant. “I’m sorry, Booth. I really had no idea.”
“Me neither,” he admitted. “I think that Asa understands now that he needs to be telling us this kind of stuff, though. He knows that it’s important.”
I wiped my hand over my forehead, still feeling like a total failure.
“When’s the Dallas appointment?” I asked.
“Next Thursday at eleven. I think we should go together,” he admitted. “If we leave that morning, we can make it there and back by the end of the day.”
“Sounds good,” I murmured. “Is he feeling bad right now?”
“No,” Booth admitted. “He’s actually eating his weight in buffalo wings.”
I snickered. “He so got that from me.”
“Yeah.” Booth chuckled. “That’s all you.” He paused. “Listen, Delanie. I just want you to know that you’re doing a good job as a mother. I have had him just as much as you lately, and I didn’t catch it either. I’m sorry that I made you think that this was somehow your fault.”
I smiled. “Thanks, Booth.”
We hung up, and instead of going back into the tattoo room, I decided to visit the cookie place next door.
I’d never needed something sweet more in my life.
Wandering next door, I opened the beautiful pink door and walked inside, instantly having the smell of cookies assault my nose.
I groaned and looked around, loving the pink fifties-style diner chairs and tables. Half of a fifties-style pink Cadillac served as a counter where there was a very darling looking young woman standing behind it with a smile on her face.
“Hi!” she chirped, her face welcoming. “Can I get you anything?”
I looked at the display cases and rubbed my hands together in anticipation. “I don’t even know where to start.”
She grinned, smile widening impossibly farther. “I actually have a sample pack. You choose five different types of cookies, and I give you small samples of each. They’re actually the cookies that I break getting off the pan. I wondered what in the world to do with them. I mean, just because they’re broken doesn’t mean that they aren’t still good. Then I realized that I can just sell them in chunks and pieces as a sampler. They’re honestly my best seller because some people just like you come in here and have no idea what they want.”
My eyes widened at her lengthy response.
And then I thought, Wow! That’s genius!
I’d have to remember to tell my sister all about this place. She should sell a variety pack as well.
“I’ll take the sampler for now, then,” I said. “Do you have chocolate milk?”
She pointed to the display case that was built into the Cadillac’s door. “There should be some right in the door.”
She was right. Using the actual door as the cooler’s display door, the window to see inside—how the hell I’d missed that, I didn’t know—presented a plethora of drinks, ranging from Cokes all the way to chocolate milk itself.
“Yessss,” I hissed as I grabbed one and set it on the counter. “Now, I do want to get one actual cookie right now. Do you have any hot, straight out of the oven?”
The woman smiled. “I do.”
So that was how Bourne found me.
I was gorging myself on cookies and chocolate milk, and licking my fingers clean of sugar and chocolate, when he came in.