CHAPTER 27
Paige
Layton walks into my bedroom, carrying yet another package from Dallas. My assumption is based off the fact the last six deliveries were from him. Each contained a different gift card that was addressed to me… well, sort of.
“I wonder what this one will be?” Layton muses as she sets the box on my desk. “I don’t know how he’ll top the Pan Asian one that was gifted to your appetite.”
“You only like that one because you want me to give it to you,” I point out.
“No, I think you should take me with you because I was the one to find Pan Asian in the first place.”
“You want to charge a finder’s fee?” I flop on my bed and point at my dresser. “Just put it over there, please.”
“You don’t want to open it?”
“Not really.” I massage my temples. “I’ve been trying to think straight since we left Miami, but Dallas gave me only five days of space instead of eight.”
“Technically, he’s not sending these to you.”
I give her a withering look.
“Well, he isn’t.” She sets the package down and picks up the gift cards that are piled neatly together. “This is to your impeccable sense of style and it’s to a shoe store, not a lingerie shop. Hmm. Maybe this one… nope, it’s addressed to your funny bone so it can download as many rom-coms as it wants to your tablet. The nerve of him to bother your sense of style and funny bone like that. He’s awful.”
“When you put it like that…” I sigh thickly and shut my eyes. “This isn’t easy for me. I miss him so much, but…” For once, I can’t articulate why I’m still working through the problem of dating a man with Dallas’s reputation and infamy. “But I need my space.”
“Okay.”
I crack open an eye. “Okay?”
Layton nods. “Far be it from me to try to convince you that he’s the one.”
“You don’t think he is?” I sit up.
“I really don’t think it matters what I think about Dallas,” she says primly. “You already made up your mind about him a long time ago.”
“I have not,” I insist.
“If that’s true, then why are you worried if he’s the one or not?”
I pick at my bedspread. “Because he might be the one or a huge mistake.”
“Paige.”
“I don’t trust my judgment,” I blurt, suddenly fighting the tears that have been pricking the backs of my eyes for the past few days. “What if I’m wrong? What if I get hurt? What if these two months have been for nothing at all?”
“What if Joe isn’t the one for me? Did we start dating too soon? Should we have had other relationships before settling down? What if all these years with him have been for nothing at all?” Layton asks as she sits down beside me.
“You’ve been thinking that?”
She nods. “Everyone has fears about commitment, about whether they made the right choice. You’re not singular in this.”
“I’m being the worst maid of honor ever.”
Layton twists her lips. “I don’t know about that. Read the last rule on the list—it’s on the back.”
Reaching over, I grab the laminated list from my nightstand and scan it. “In the event of all hell breaking loose, the maid of honor will be there for the bride… and the bride will be there for the maid of honor.” I laugh a little. “That sounds kind of lawyer-ish.”
“Guilty as charged.” She leans against me, resting her head on my shoulder. “Do you feel like going back home with me tonight, instead of waiting? I’m so excited, Paige. I’m getting ready to start the rest of my life with the man, who is not cheating on me, I love.”
If I go back early, I’d be forced to spend time with my momma and her husband. I’d have to endure lovely-dovey talk and the stars in my momma’s eyes that he put there—until he makes them burn out… or she sends him packing for the greater good of baseball. My plan was to avoid all that by waiting until the last possible minute to travel, then be so involved with helping Layton before, during, and after the wedding that there would be no way to spend any extended amount of time with my family.
Yet… I know in my heart that even if I decide to break up with Dallas, I’ll just make another excuse when the next guy comes along.
My heart pinches.
I can’t imagine my life with a different man.
“You know what—I do.”
* * *
Suitcase in hand, I walk up the front steps to my momma’s house. It’s not the one Finley and I grew up in. No, this is the one husband number five purchased and Momma got to keep after the divorce. The roof doesn’t leak, and there’s an in-ground pool in the back with a fenced-in yard. Her flower beds are stuffed with flowers, and there isn’t a blessed soul to tell her that the rent is late.
I want to be happy for her, want to feel welcome in a place I’ve never lived, and I want to celebrate holidays with my brother and sister…but it’s hard when I don’t have the kind of relationship with them as Dallas has with his family. I wasn’t around them very long, but it was enough to make me jealous. Enough to make me wish my siblings and I were as close as Dallas and his brother. That I could tell my mom and Finley how I really feel about Dallas.
The storm door opens and my momma steps out, looking as pretty as she always does. She’s one of those types who never ages. Finley looks exactly like her while I favor my biological dad’s side. He told me I was the spitting image of his mother, but I turned down his invitation to meet her.
“Paige Amelia Owens, you are a sight for sore eyes, sugar.” She envelopes me in a hug that I have to return. No matter how I feel about her, I’ve always been content in the knowledge that she loves me and did the best she could by us. “I’m so glad you were able to get away a day early so we can have girl time tonight. Brad’s traveling.”
“You didn’t go with him?” My momma never misses a game. The baseball stadium is her church.
She waves a hand and takes my suitcase. “I can see his games anytime I want, but you… you’re like a triple score in the bottom of the ninth.”
“Thank you?”
“It’s good, precious, don’t worry.” She chuckles as we step inside. The smell of cookies and vanilla fill the air. I hope it’s not a candle and is actual cookies. “Still not sure how the sports gene missed you completely.”
“I ducked.”
Momma laughs and sets my suitcase in the foyer. “What can I fix you to drink and eat?”
It’s useless to try to convince her I’m not hungry when I come to visit, and it makes her feel good to be able to do something for me. “Iced tea and cookies?”
“Baked some snickerdoodles just for my girl.”
I follow her to the kitchen and sit down at the bar while she whirls around, producing the perfect tea and delicious cookies—just like always. I scarf two down before I stop to thank her.
“You’re welcome. Now tell me why you’re really here.”
“Excuse me?” I ask around a bite.
She sighs. “Paige, I have known you your entire life. The only time you come around anymore is when you feel like you have to or there’s something wrong. Since you came early, I’m going with the second reason.”
A dull flush climbs my throat. “I don’t—”
“Don’t lie and don’t apologize. I haven’t always made you kids, especially you girls, feel welcome.” She lights a slim cigarette, moves to the sink, and raises the window. “Do you mind?”
“It’s your house.”
She eyes the cigarette, then me, and puts it out. “I only lit it because I’m nervous.”
“I only came here because I’m nervous, scared, and mad at you for making me want to be your opposite.”
Her dark eyes widen. “That’s certainly honest.”
I wince. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, baby. Never be sorry for the truth.” She moves, coming to sit beside me. “I have a lot to answer for, and a lot I don’t have to apologize for.”
“It’s not about that. I know you did the best you could, and I always felt loved. Just… I met a man.”
Momma smiles softly. “Ah.”
“It’s not like I’ve never dated seriously before.”
“No, it’s not, but those guys were jerks.”
I nod. “Dallas isn’t a jerk. He’s cocky and larger than life and has an awful reputation with women, but in a good way, if that makes sense.”
“The good ones usually do.”
There is no way I’ll ask her to clarify the meaning of that statement. “He stopped doing things to have that reputation.”
“Not all of them, I hope, for your sake. A happy sex life is a healthy sexy life.”
Of course she went there. “I’m blissful.”
“That makes me so happy for you.” She pats my thigh. “You make sure he keeps you safe and respects your—”
“He’s perfect in every way.”
Her brows rise. “Wow. Can’t wait to meet him.”
“That’s the problem—you might not meet him because I told him I needed space.”
Her chin drops. “You broke up with him?”
“What’s with everyone saying that?” I shake my head. “No, I did not break up with him.”
“Sounds like it to me.”
“Would you just listen and comment at the end, please?”
She mimes zipping her lips, locking them at the corner, and throwing away the key.
“I pushed him away because I can’t handle the what-if’s or the fact he’s exactly like the men you fall in love with.”
“Dallas is a baseball player? I haven’t heard of him… is he new?”
“He plays in the NFL.” I wave my hands in the air, flapping them like bird wings. “It doesn’t matter what he does…. well, it does, but I don’t care. It’s just I’m in love with him and I’m scared.” I smack one of my flapping hands against my mouth. “Oh, God.”
“That’s wonderful. You’ve never been in love before… not like this.” She sits back a little. “You don’t have to be me, Paige, and I certainly don’t expect you to follow in my footsteps. I chose a different path from most, and it rewarded me with the three of you.” She plays with my hair. “The thing is, sweetheart, none of us have to follow the path of another. We’re all supposed to make our own way in this world. And if your world has a football player in the middle of it, I say tackle the heck out of that guy.”
“But what will Finley think?”
“Finley will get over it—if she even cares at all.”
“But she’s always warned me away,” I protest.
“A woman’s broken heart will do everything it can to protect the ones it loves.” She smiles sadly. “You can’t live your life to suit your sister or me, or the fear of being labeled as a football groupie… or whatever they’re called. The world doesn’t have the final say in defining you. Only you have that power. Don’t let your fear take that away.”
“Oh wow, that was beautiful. Thank you, Momma.”
“You’re welcome. Now, tell me all the good things about your Dallas.”
I start to list them, thinking of the kind things he does for me and his relationship with his family; how he protects my privacy even when it’s inconvenient… the way he loves me with his body—not that I’d tell my momma that—and the words get jumbled up.
Finally, I look at her and say, “There’s just so many that I’d be an idiot to throw our relationship away. After the wedding, I’m going to go to his game and tell him how I feel.”