So they didn’t.
This was good, it meant he could avoid the meet with Tate. A meeting where Tate would try to take Walker’s pulse, dig and see if Walker was up to something. Then expend the wasted effort to try and talk him out of it. Then get pissed when his effort was wasted.
Walker didn’t need that shit. Neither did Tate. He owed the man his time and he’d give it to him and then try to manage the meeting so feelings wouldn’t turn hard.
But he couldn’t say he wasn’t fucking glad he’d had genuine excuses to delay.
These included Ella treating them all to her “famous Texas chili”, shit so hot, Walker couldn’t taste the meat or beans, just the heat. This started a contest for each of those sisters to one-up themselves, something he could have saved them doing since he hadn’t enjoyed Ella’s treat but he couldn’t exactly say that, as much as he wanted to, so he didn’t.
Honey’s offering was worse. Thankfully the bitch was dim so Lexie and Ella were able to draw her attention away while Bessie confiscated plates and dumped vast portions of whatever the fuck it was supposed to be in the garbage so they didn’t have to eat it. Walker thought he’d have to go to bed starved but Lexie had snuck down to the kitchen and made him sandwiches then came up with them to tell him she’d run into Ella and Bessie doing the same.
At this, she’d laughed herself sick. She’d laughed herself sicker when she presented him with bologna and an excuse of, “This was the best I could do, baby, Ella was distracting Honey, I didn’t have time to do more.”
It was the first time since he was a kid and learned better that he preferred bologna to the alternative.
Luckily, Bessie knew her way around the kitchen. Her meat pie with cornbread topping was the shit.
When they weren’t cooking, Lexie had talked him into taking them to The Rooster. And she’d talked him into taking them to the Italian place then to Bubba’s. Further, Maggie had thrown a barbeque in honor of their visit which meant they had to go. The next week, not to be outdone, Laurie had invited them all to dinner. He’d barely step foot at the top of the stairs before Lexie was telling him he needed to get his ass in the shower because they were off somewhere.
And even if they weren’t, the women latched on and his time was full.
One night, they seated him at the island with Lexie’s photo albums, ten of those fuckers. Clearly, she hadn’t just discovered taking photos; his wife had made a habit of it for two decades. They all stood around him, the best part being Lexie standing behind him, tits pressed to his back, arm reaching around to flip the pages, finger pointing to pictures, her body moving against his as she giggled, pressing closer and circling his chest with her other arm while she reminisced, sometimes she’d drop her chin to his shoulder and go quiet as the other three shared stories. And all four of them told their tales over photo albums and they’d done it for hours.
Through it, Lexie was having the time of her life and he couldn’t say he wasn’t interested, seeing the pages turn, seeing their lives in pictures, getting to know her family and, as the photos passed by, watching his wife grow older, mature. He wasn’t surprised to see she was a knockout from age fourteen, she’d always had beauty but also there was no way to miss the promise of what it would be when it ripened. Then the page would turn and he’d see it ripen. It was exactly what he expected. And he expected this because Rodriguez, who in the beginning with his talent could have any * he wanted lie back and spread but he knew, no matter the choice, nothing compared to what he had at home.
She didn’t hide Rodriguez, quickly turn pages he was in or skim over his photos, not from Walker, not from her family. That was Lex. Nothing hidden. No bullshit. Rodriguez was a part of her life, their lives and she didn’t feel there was a reason to bury him. Walker guessed this was because he was buried, literally and that was enough. He’d been a major component in her life, now he was gone. That was it.