Chapter 225
Effie sprang to her feet, giggling uncontrollably. Each time she swayed, Lyman’s heart lurched as if an invisible hand had seized it-his breath slowed, his nerves taut.
“Don’t move around so much,” he warned gently.
But before he could finish, Effie flung out her arms. “I’m about to take off!”
Lyman lunged forward just in time to catch her as she landed squarely in his
arms.
With her arms looped around his neck, she burst into laughter. “That was fun! Let’s do it again!”
Lyman thought to himself that there was nothing fun about nearly having a heart attack.
Effie chimed in eagerly, “Come on, let’s do it one more time!”
He nearly groaned. Again? His heart couldn’t take much more.
“Mr. Etheridge, the car is ready-” the driver announced, but before he could finish, Effie suddenly shrieked, “Ahh! The superhero is here! We have to run!”
The driver, his glasses catching the glow from the streetlamp, looked utterly unassuming certainly not the superhero Effie claimed.
If the driver was the superhero, then what did that make them? Villains on the run?
Lyman could guess the answer, but he still teased, “You think we can’t beat him?”
“Not a chance! You’re the lamppost monster, I’m the bird monster-we’re way too weak. Run for it!” Effie declared, seizing his hand and taking off down the sidewalk.
Lyman glanced at their entwined hands-hers was delicate and pale, almost ethereal. His gaze drifted up along her arm until he met her face. Effie turned to look at him, and under the amber streetlight, she smiled; her whole face seemed to glow.
For a moment, the stark, leafless trees lining the avenue seemed to burst into spring, vibrant and alive. It was as if joy bloomed right there in his chest.
He squeezed her hand tightly. She was like a sprite who’d wandered into his world beautiful and wild, impossible to hold onto. If he let go, she might vanish in the next heartbeat.
How he wished this moment could last forever.
Together, they reached the corner and slipped into the car.
Effie nestled against him, and as Lyman bent his head, he caught the sweet scent
of alcohol on her. He frowned a little. He hadn’t expected his grandmother’s homemade peach liqueur-so smooth and deceptively sweet-would go so thoroughly to Effie’s head.
Well, lesson learned. Now he knew what she was like when tipsy, he was never letting her near alcohol again.
Effie leaned back into the seat, growing quieter by the second, until she drifted off to sleep.
Lyman let out a relieved sigh; the driver did too.
Suddenly, Effie began to mutter, her words indistinct.
Lyman leaned closer and caught a single name: “Mitchell…”
His smile froze, shadows darkening his eyes.
So, she still hadn’t let Mitchell go.
It felt as if his heart had sunk to the bottom of a cold, dark lake.
“Scumbag! Get lost!” Effie blurted out, voice rising. “Mitchell, Shepard-you’re
both trash! Get out of my life!”
Her outburst was so fierce that her eyes snapped open.
Lyman hadn’t expected her to wake so suddenly. Their eyes met.
Effie squinted at him, then, recognizing his face, threw herself into his arms. “Handsome! My favorite handsome guy!”
She pushed him back a little, studying him intently. “You look so familiar… kind of like my darling husband.”
Lyman’s heart, which had just sunk, began to rise again, warmth creeping in. “What did you say?”
Effie smacked a kiss onto his cheek. “I love my husband-I love you, I love you…”