Chapter 4
Delilah
“Sometimes ya just gotta play the hand you’re dealt.”
~ Grant Turner
I smoothed my hands down over my hips and twisted back and forth as I looked into the full length mirror. The soft, pleated fabric of my skirt swayed against my freshly shaved and lotioned legs and felt deliciously sinful. I stared at my reflection and was surprised that it looked even better than it had when I’d tried it on in the dressing room, which never happened to me. I tried to view myself through an unbiased lens, hoping to predict what Sawyer would see.
Objectively, my Marilyn Monroe inspired white halter top dress did what I’d hoped it would. It accentuated the girls and took my cleavage from eh to hello. It pinched in at my waist, and fell softly over problem areas: my hips, backside, and thighs, thus showcasing my hourglass figure. And Bella truly had worked her magic. My hair fell in soft waves over my shoulder, framing my face and highlighting my dramatic eyes. The pop of color on my lips completed the Old Hollywood look.
Earlier today, I’d worried that the effect would be diminished because Sawyer had seen me with my hair and makeup done. But after putting on my dress and heels, I was leaning towards the wow factor still being a very viable possibility. If this didn’t change Sawyer’s perception of me from a kid to a grown, adult woman, I had no idea what would.
I inhaled a deep breath and placed my hands over my stomach, hoping to calm the nerves that were bubbling up and exploding like a can of soda that’d been shaken. I’d spent the last two hours reading You Are a Badass: How to Stop Doubting Your Greatness and Start Living an Awesome Life by Jen Sincero. In it, she wrote that “the only failure is quitting” and “on the other side of fear is freedom.” I tried to focus on that now. I’d also done some much-needed self-talk and had to admit I was feeling a renewed determination.
I was inspired to follow through with my plan, no matter how terrifying it was or what the ultimate outcome ended up being. I deserved to give myself the best chance at happiness, and I believed, from the bottom of my heart, that Sawyer Briggs was that for me. And I was finally at the place in my life that, if I broke down the steel-reinforced walls that he’d erected around himself, put myself out there and laid my heart and soul on the line and he rejected me, I’d be okay. At least then, I’d know. I wouldn’t be living in “what if” limbo where I constantly imagined what life could be if he knew how I felt. If he felt the same way I did. If we could be together.
If that was the case, I was ready to move on with my life with my head held high and no regrets.
I checked the time and saw that I only had about five minutes before I needed to leave. Closing my eyes, I visualized what I wanted to happen tonight. It was another technique I’d picked up from a self-help book.
It didn’t hurt that I’d already been down at the Old Town Hall building, that was renovated and now used for weddings and civic events, dropping off the floral arrangements I’d worked day and night the past few days to finish for tonight’s festivities. I knew that there was a wooden arch that was draped in twinkle lights as you entered. In my mind’s eye, I pictured myself walking through it, exuding confidence, grace, and beauty. Then, I envisioned Sawyer standing across the room, drink in hand, wearing a button up and slacks, standing out in a room filled with tuxes and suits. Our eyes meet for a brief moment before he breaks our stare and scans down my body, drinking me in like I was a bottle of Aquafina and he was a man that had been stranded in the desert with no water. Next, I see him walk towards me with a predatory gleam in his eye. He stops in front of me and says…and says…
Nothing. That’s where my daydreams usually hit roadblocks. I could never realistically, vividly imagine what he would say to me. I could fantasize about what I wanted him to say to me all day long.
I can’t stop thinking about you. I spend every second of every day thinking about you.
I want you. I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you.
I love you. I’ve loved you for so long I don’t remember not loving you.
Any of those would work, but was that what he would say? I had no idea. No context. I’d never even seen him with a girlfriend. Rumors were that he dated women out of town, mainly in Parrish Creek and Dallas.
Dated was probably too strong of a word to use for what he did. If what people said was true, he’d had a series of monogamous hook-ups. Basically, a few months of what boiled down to a series of one-night stands and then he’d move onto someone else. My older sister Maisy met a woman that claimed to have been with Sawyer for almost six months, but she said that things never got past the physical. He never talked about himself. His life. His family. She kept expecting him to open up, but he never did. He was as much a stranger after six months and countless sexual encounters as he’d been when they’d met at The Double Wide bar, a live music venue in Dallas.
There was a reason Sawyer kept everyone at arm’s length. There had to be. I just had no idea what it was or how to find out. The general consensus when it came to his brooding ways was that he didn’t like talking. I was sure that there was some truth to that theory. He was a private person, and I’d never met anyone that personified the strong, silent stereotype like he did. But there was something else. Something that made him hold back.
I’d tried for years to Nancy Drew my way to the truth beneath the mystery that was Sawyer Briggs. I’d followed clues, tracked down leads, interviewed suspects, and still, I had no answers. That man was as much a mystery to me today as he’d always been.
I picked up my list that I hoped would finally crack the code and glanced over the thirty-six questions that were scientifically proven to create intimacy. It was the list that had planted the seed for this entire experiment.
Up until a year ago, I’d thought I’d hit a dead end in my pursuit of the enigma that was Sawyer Briggs. Then I’d read The New York Times article “The 36 Questions that Lead to Love.” It explored whether or not intimacy between strangers could be fast-tracked by them answering thirty-six questions. The resounding results were yes. Yes, they could.
That gave me an idea. What if I could ask Sawyer these questions and he felt obligated to answer them? Which led me to showing up at Briggs Construction with brownies to suggest that an apprenticeship where Sawyer was required to answer all questions asked of him might be a nice addition to his donation. I set the list down and jumped, startled as my phone buzzed.
I picked it up as I turned my attention back to the mirror. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, sweetie. Mrs. Nelson needs a ride to the fundraiser. Your father offered to take her, but I just talked to your sisters, and they were planning on riding with us in case they wanted to have a glass of wine or two so we won’t have room. I need you to swing by and pick her up.” It wasn’t a question. “Oh, and I forgot the arrangement that I planned on giving the mayor and his wife, can you grab it from the shop on your way?”
First off, swing by? Mrs. Nelson barely lived in Wishing Well, her house butted up against the city limit and was as far away from town as you could get. It would take me a good twenty minutes, at least, to swing by and pick her up. Second, what if I wanted to have a glass of wine, or two? Now I was a designated driver. Third, why couldn’t they grab the arrangement from the shop? We both lived the same distance away, and now I had to go all the way out to Lambert Road to play Uber driver.
“Sure,” I answered out of habit.
All my life, I’d done what I was supposed to do, I’d done what was expected of me without any complaint. When my sisters would make excuses as to why they couldn’t help my mother with dinner or the dishes, I was in the kitchen by her side. As teenagers, when we were all scheduled to work at the shop, I was the one that showed up on time and never flaked. When they all snuck out to go to parties, I stayed home for fear that my parents would’ve been worried if they’d discovered all four of their daughters weren’t home. When the triplets all decided they wanted nothing to do with running The Flower Pot, I abandoned my dreams to move to a big city, stayed home and worked to help my parents out.
“Great. We’ll see you soon.” The phone disconnected.
A simple thank you would’ve been nice, but I knew it was too much to ask. I didn’t think that my mom intentionally took me for granted, I thought it was just easy to overlook me. The triplets cast quite a large shadow, and that was the darkness that I’d been born into. It wasn’t that my sisters tried to steal the spotlight, it just naturally shined on them, and they absorbed all of the light, leaving none for me.
When I was younger and always doing exactly what I was told so that my parents would notice and give me special attention, it never worked. Instead, I think my behavior caused them to see me less. They saw through me like I was invisible. I was never able to catch the acknowledgment and appreciation I’d been desperately chasing.
A thought occurred to me as I grabbed my clutch. Maybe that was why I’d been attracted to a man that didn’t give me the time of day. I was still just chasing something that was out of my reach.
No. I shook my head. This was different.
I wasn’t some doormat that was getting stepped on. Sawyer didn’t take me for granted. He wasn’t taking advantage of me…although, I wouldn’t mind if he did.
I was an independent woman that was taking her destiny into her own hands. I had a plan, and I was going to execute it with my head held high. Then whatever the outcome was I could walk away with no regrets.
No. Regrets.