Marge pulled back. “What?”
Cassidy shrugged. “Fred’s been a running joke between us since the start.” Looking over her shoulder at the dog lounging on his portion of the sofa, she said, “Fred’s fallen in love with him.”
Fred picked his head up, eyeing her.
“Is Mac your buddy?” Cassidy asked playfully.
Fred cocked his head, ears ups, eyes excited as though she was about to produce his favorite person like she produced his favorite treat. When she smiled, he let out a prompting bark.
Rolling her eyes, she looked back at Marge. Marge shifted her attention between them: from Fred to Cassidy, who was still smiling from her dog’s reaction in anI told you soway. Marge’s eyes had a form of resignation in them Cassidy didn’t understand.
“That boy and I… For you, I can call a truce—”
“Don’t do anything on my account, Marge. You don’t owe him anything.”
“Nonetheless, until I hear from you that things have gone sideways, I’ll try to be civil.”
Again, Cassidy protested, “Marge, Mac and I aren’t anything to each other. He’s just my neighbor. Who likes my dog.”
Marge pointed out, “A boy don’t go chasing a girl out of the store when they know what they are to one another.”
Cassidy raised a glowering look to Marge. “Now thereyougo, reading into things. You aren’t helping. Either he’s a destructive tomcat, or he’s what? Seriously interested in me?”
“Could be he’s both,” Marge pointed out. “Destructive and interested.”
Cassidy leaned forward and pushed her fingers through her hair. “I’m not ready for any of this. I don’t want any of this. I don’t remember it being this complicated.”
Marge let out a sound along the lines of a scoff. “Been that way since Eve was plopped on the earth, child, and Adam started devising ways to get inside her. Nothing’s changed; nothing will.”
The corner of Cassidy’s mouth lifted. “Wow. Some pep talk. May as well wave a white flag.”
“Didn’t say we ought to give ’em their way,” Marge pointed out.
Cassidy agreed. “I had the best.”
“You did. Remember that.”
Her voice broke. “Every day.”
“But not so much, sweet girl, that you can’t move on.”
“Where’s the balance?”
Marge sighed heavily. “That, Cassidy, is something only your heart can tell you.”
“But my heart’s broken.”
Marge pointed at her. “Exactly. But tell you what: if this boy’s good to you, I’ll be good to him. If he takes one misstep, I’ll neuter that tom myself.”
They were just words—amusing in the sense that it would be quite a show to watch the tough old bird try to take on the man—but the fierce protectiveness affected her.
“Thank you,” she murmured. She wanted to add,butMac had tried to protect her, too… but she didn’t. She had to learn to take affection (because that’s what it was) without disputing or downplaying it.
Marge straightened and looked her in the eye. “Next week.”
Next week: the anniversary of Elijah’s death, of when she lost her way and became the shell of a person she was now. “I’ll be okay, Marge.”
“What do you need from us?”