Grady walked in my office at one o’clock on the dot. He was carrying a large brown paper sack in one hand and drink holder with two drinks in the other hand. His hat was grease stained and his shirt and jeans were smeared with dirt.
“I was really hoping that you weren’t coming but that actually smells so good. What is it?”
“Your favorite.”
“My favorite?”
“Chicken carbonara from Cucina Bianchi.”
My jaw dropped. Cucina Bianchi was an Italian restaurant that was in downtown Birmingham. It was what us country folk considered fancy because it had low lighting and they used linen napkins instead of paper ones. My parents took me there every year for my birthday as a kid. That was where Spencer had proposed to me. He was so nervous that he dropped the ring in my pasta. I was shocked that Gra
