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Harper. On the ride home, and in the shower, she had replayed Boudreaux’s words and expressions and, even though she was always wary of believing something she wanted to believe, she felt he was telling the truth.
    She’d turned Charlie Harper’s words around and around in her head, contrasting them with what she felt in her gut to be true. What she’d finally decided was that Fain had known somehow that Boudreaux had pointed suspicion toward him, and that, in doing so, he had created a “mess.” As far as any prior messes, Maggie didn’t really care.
    She was on her second glass of wine, which she was drinking more slowly, when Wyatt pulled into the yard and parked next to Maggie’s Cherokee. Coco’s backside vibrated on the planks of the deck, and she accidentally let out a small squeal, like a kid letting a little bit of helium out of a balloon.
    “Go ahead,” Maggie said, and Coco bolted for the stairs.
    Maggie walked to the top of the deck stairs and watched as Coco excitedly greeted Wyatt, who bent down and gave her a rub before heading for the stairs. He nearly trod upon Stoopid, who had barreled out to advise him of something important.
    “Geez, Stoopid, take a Xanax,” he mumbled as he headed for the stairs. He looked up and saw Maggie. “Hey,” he said, as he started up.
    “Hey,” Maggie said.
    Wyatt had showered, and his hair was still a bit damp. She noticed his impressively thick mustache looked freshly trimmed. He was wearing faded jeans and a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the tails out. She thought he was perhaps the most casually handsome man she’d ever met, and she wished this was their second date. For just a moment, she considered changing her plans for the evening.
    Wyatt stopped a couple of steps below her, which put them eye to eye. He put a hand on either stair rail.
    “So, I was thinking,” he said. “Whatever it is you want to talk about, I already know it’s not good, so why don’t we go ahead and have a nice kiss and a hug now, in case one or both of us doesn’t feel like it later? Unless, what you want to tell me is that you’ve decided to skip this whole thing with us.”
    “No. Of course not,” she said quietly.
    “Well, then brace yourself,” he said.
    He slipped an arm around her waist and tugged her to him, then kissed her. It was warm and gentle and firm, and becoming very familiar. She’d known him very well for six years, but in recent weeks he had become familiar in completely new ways. The way his wavy brown hair felt between her fingers, the way his lips felt, how he tasted faintly of brown sugar.
    For her entire life, Maggie had loved a man who was slightly built and only stood five nine. The first time Wyatt had held her, it had felt like visiting a foreign country. Now, he was beginning to feel a little bit like home. She would have liked to have enjoyed the moment more, but there was a weight of dread in her chest that kept her from it.
    Wyatt took his mouth from hers, gave her a quick kiss on the neck, then straightened up and bounced on the step, which trembled and creaked beneath him. “You need to fix this thing,” he said, frowning.
    “Yeah,” Maggie said. “I know.” David had been planning to do it. “Do you want a glass of wine?” she asked Wyatt.
    “Sure,” he said, and followed her inside, Coco on his heels.
    They walked into the kitchen, and Maggie poured Wyatt a glass of wine at the small butcher block island, then led him back into the living room. She slowed by the couch, then passed it and sat down on the window seat that David had built when Sky was a toddler. Coco sat at her feet and watched Wyatt, who stopped and stood near the couch.
    “Well. I see this is going to be bad,” he said.
    “Why?”
    “We’re not going to sit on the couch,” he said. He took a good swallow of his wine. “How much wine do we have?
    “Probably not enough,” she said quietly.
    Wyatt walked over to the coffee table