by Jaycee Ford
The staleness in the air soured my stomach. I cracked the windows. The smell of fried food caught my nose. Three minutes later, the bell dinged, and I pushed open the door to the diner across the street. It was about half-full with most of the townsfolk still at church. I believed they had the right idea. With a promise to go soon, I sat in a red vinyl covered booth near the back. A few truck drivers sipped their coffee at the counter. Two guys inhaled their breakfast a few booths away, and sported their Sunday attire—Panthers jerseys. A mother on the far side of the eatery tried to get her twins to stop chasing each other around the table and eat. The bell dinged again as an old couple in their Sunday best strolled through the door, their hands intertwined the whole time. I stared in awe, but also felt jealous of them. Even in old age, they walked hand in hand in public.
The waitress approached and asked for my order. I needed the only thing that sounded comforting.
“Biscuits and gravy … with extra gravy,” I ordered. She turned to walk away, but I touched her arm and added, “And coffee.”
I pulled out my phone. The time read noon, and I noticed no texts or calls. I texted my dad.
Made it back. Go Panthers!
I gazed out of the window. People donned their football attire and headed to Dixie’s. A small smile lifted my lips as a few ladies pointed at items in the window of my store. A dozen feet behind them walked a lonely cowboy. The black rim of his hat dipped forward. His hands were tucked deep into his pockets. His color was a bit pale and his frame seemed narrower. He slowed as he approached my boutique, and then stopped dead center of the window. He leaned in close and peeked inside, raising his hand to shield against the sun. His shoulders sagged as his hand fell down. He stepped back, stared for one more second, and then continued down the road alone.
“Honey, are you okay?”
I turned toward the waitress and realized the glaze obstructing my sight. I had to get him back. He had to take me back. I smiled, finally knowing that he really did want to be with me.
“I am perfect. Thank you.” I wiped my face as a smile replaced my tears. A call to action was in order. I pulled out my phone and tapped the screen. I was the happiest I had been in weeks. I was astonished really. It was my heart. My heart was hopeful.
Swing by mine when you head out for Dixie’s
I dug into my biscuits and extra gravy as my phone beeped.
You’re back?! I smiled at my friend’s text.
Hell yeah, and it’s go time.
Operation win back Paul Harris was on … again!
ONE HOUR. I had an hour to turn myself from this hobo of a mess into the designer I claimed to be. I had let myself go. The time I spent with my father, my hair never came out of a ponytail, my feet stayed in flip-flops, and I lived in a T-shirt. Now, I had to put on actual clothes and fix my hair.
I ran up my stairs and headed straight to the bathroom. When I threw on the light, I almost gasped at the unfamiliar face before me. I stretched my skin around my darkened eyes. The bags could hold elephants. My hair … nothing good could be said for it.
I left the ungodly sight and turned on the shower; only scalding hot would do. I rid myself of the exercise attire that I had been wearing to do anything but exercise, and as I placed one leg into the hot water, I almost screamed. A forest! A whole forest grew up my legs and onto places I knew that Paul had preferred shaved. I scrubbed every inch of my body and shaved every place that hair wasn’t meant to be. I stepped out of the shower and stared at my naked form. The color came back in my cheeks, but I seemed a bit pudgy. Too many biscuits and gravy. I shrugged my shoulders. They were too damn good to care. I checked the time on my phone.
“Shit!”
Paying no mind to the opened blinds, I dashed into the living room and grabbed one of the suitcases and carry-on bags, dragging them across the hardwood and into my room. I threw all of my clothes from the suitcase about the room, searching for my Panthers shirt and a jean skirt. I shrugged on one cowboy boot and grabbed my makeup bag. I hopped into the bathroom while tugging on the second boot. As I started with the foundation, I stared at my reflection. What if this didn’t work? The strokes slowed across my skin, self-doubt oozing through my brain. I shook my head. It had to work. He couldn’t possibly just call me day after day for weeks on end to snub me now.
Could he?
I forced my eyes closed. Whatever negativity swirled inside of me needed to go away now. I had to get my game face on. Literally. The makeup application continued as I played music from a playlist on my phone. I needed to get pumped up, and banish the nervous self-doubt. I was going to get him back. I had to get him back.
I dug out the hairdryer from my drawer and dried my hair, expecting to leave it in its natural wave. The screen on my phone lit up with a text from Jordan.
I’m here!
I flipped my hair over and attempted to set it in a messy, yet styled wave. I flipped my head back, and hair flew around me. I stared at myself one last time. The silence of the hairdryer welcomed back the emptiness of my apartment, the same emptiness echoing inside my heart. I breathed out one last time.
“Okay, Ellie. Time to put on your big girl panties.”
The pep talk seeped into my mind and a fire lit under my ass. I fled down the stairs and headed into the cool October day. The game started in about five minutes. We would just have to be fashionably late. I went out the back door and around the alley, pushing open the gate to the sidewalk, and my best friend stood there in the same exact outfit. She placed her hands on her hips, staring me up and down.
“Well, if a designer is wearing it, then I must have picked out an okay outfit,” she joked. I breathed out an uneasy sigh. Jordan wrapped me in a hug and whispered, “I’m glad you’re back. I love Tom, but I needed my girl around.”
I nodded. “I just … I just can’t deal with it anymore, Jordan. I need him. I love him.” I blinked back the tears. I would not ruin my mascara already.
“I don’t care if he wants to be kept a secret. I’ll be his secret. I just want him back,” I declared as we broke our hug.
She placed her hands on my arms. “Let’s go get him back.”
• • •
A pair of blue eyes that I hadn’t seen for a month was the first thing I saw as I walked into Dixie’s. His mouth moved as he spoke to Tom, but his eyes never left mine. My heart leaped out of my chest as a swarm of butterflies crashed against the walls of my stomach. I didn’t know if I wanted to run and throw my arms around him, or run to the bathroom and puke out my nerves. I breathed deeply through my nose and followed Jordan toward the bar. She was scooped up into Tom’s arms while I grabbed a beer.
His eyes lingered on me. A fire spread through my body. My skin craved his touch. I wanted him. I needed him. And I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. I ran my finger around the rim of the mug, not knowing what to do as I stood here. I was so out of place that I was beginning to think that this was a bad idea.
“Holy shit.”
I turned toward the voice of a man I once loved. I had been here for months, and it was the first time I saw those green eyes. The guy that I had assumed cheated on me for months on end. I never figured out why he did that, but from the look in his eyes, I could see why it was so easy to fall for him. I had loved two men at a young age, and I had cheated them both in the end.
“Hey, Lance.”
He blew out a whistle, scanning my body once more. I groaned silently. He was already drunk.
“Did-didn’t I used to date you?”
I rested my hand on my hip, unsure what to do. I could feel Paul’s eyes on me as my ex’s beckoned me to approach. But I wouldn’t. I knew whom I wanted now. I just had to get him.
“Yes, Lance, for about four years.”
Before I could breathe, his arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me against him. The close contact was familiar, comfortable, and wrong.
“Can’t seem to figure out why we broke up.”
I couldn’t do
this. My heart broke again for the man I had loved, and for the man I loved now.
“Lance, stop.” I tried to push him away, but he wasn’t letting go. Please don’t do this, Lance. A hand landed on his bicep. My heart jolted, his words echoing my thoughts.
“Come on, buddy. Don’t do this now.”
Lance chuckled as he squeezed me tighter and said, “Don’t I have some sort of claim over her?”
Paul did not hide his discomfort. He pushed Lance away, enough that he let go of me.
“No, you lost that right a long time ago.”
Paul’s eyes were filled with pain; my heart drummed a throbbing beat. He reached out his hand, and his chest rose and fell with a sigh. I didn’t waste a moment to slide my hand into Paul’s. As soon as our fingers entwined, I knew that everything would be okay. I followed him to the bar, sitting away from the group. I didn’t mind him keeping me to himself.
“Bartender, two shots of Jack, please.” He turned back to me, and with all of Dixie’s in clear sight, his fingers grazed my cheek. A tear rolled down my face in their wake. He wiped it with his thumb.
A sob lodged in my throat. “I’m so sorry, Paul.”
He shook his head and pulled me against him. Our arms wrapped around each other. Our bodies fit like two puzzle pieces.
“I’m never letting you go,” he whispered. He bent down to eye level, coddling my face and wiping away the stray tears. “Do you hear me?” he asked. His eyes glazed over. “I’m not letting you go again.”
I nodded inside of his hands as the bartender placed down the two shots of whiskey. Paul handed me one and took the other, holding it out for a toast.
“Here’s to not fucking up anymore.” He smiled. I nodded, and with a giggle from me, we clicked our tiny glasses. The burn scorched my throat. I would never get used to it. “Bartender. Another round.”
“Get chasers this time.” I nudged his arm and he laughed, pulling me to him. His arm draped around the back of my stool as we stayed together the rest of the game, cheering the Panthers on to victory.
By the end of the fourth quarter, the only sound was dozens of beating hearts. Impatience buzzed through the air as the Panthers defended the goal line from the Atlanta Falcons. I could barely watch, but Jordan was almost having a fit. That girl wasn’t lying about her love of football.
Screams of joy filled the tavern; the patrons jumped in uproarious cheers. I threw my hands in the air and screamed with the rest of them. In that moment, Paul’s arms wrapped around me and pulled me to him. I stopped screaming as his eyes read mine, his happiness giving himself away. His lips found mine, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. I melted. Everything in me melted in his kiss. I couldn’t feel the ache in my heart any longer. My heart was whole again.
“Hey! What the hell?”
I heard Lance behind us, but we never stopped. I never wanted to be parted from Paul again, but I didn’t always get my way. Paul was pulled off me, and Lance got in his face, pulling him farther away.
“What the hell, man? That’s my ex!”
“Lance, stop.” I stepped between them.
Paul’s voice rose over mine as he pushed me out of the path of Lance’s wrath. “You let her go.” He pulled his arm out of Lance’s grasp and continued with a hint of a slur. “You gave her up years ago. Am I not supposed to go after the woman I’ve wanted all my life just because you got to her first ten years ago?”
My stomach jumped at his words. I laid my hand across it to settle it down. All his life?
“Y’all, come on. Not here.” Tom stepped between them, but Lance pushed him away and resumed his attack on Paul.
“No, dammit, we’re gonna do this here. Whatever happened about not going after each other’s girls?”
I had never seen Lance so mad. It broke my heart. This was what Paul was afraid of the whole time. I pushed him out of my life because he wanted to avoid this. God, I was such a fucking idiot!
“Well, you have damn near slept with half the town, so the pickings are slim, Lance.”
I gasped and covered my mouth at his alcoholic-laden words. Lance cocked back his arm and slammed his fist against Paul’s cheek.
“Oh my God, Paul!” I screamed. Paul stumbled back but didn’t fall. I held his face in my hands and whispered, “Are you okay, baby?”
He nodded. I turned to Lance; rage seeped through me. He might not have cheated on me in high school, but he didn’t want to give us a chance. He was soon to sleep with whomever crossed his path. That was not Paul’s fault. I got in Lance’s face; I almost dared him to hit me.
“You gave me up to whore around, and now you’re mad because, years later, someone shows me attention? You’ve got to be kidding. There are a lot of legs to spread. Go find someone else’s!”
I reached for Paul. We were in this together. It was going to suck, but we would fix it. Lance would get past this and move on. He had to. They were best friends.
We left Dixie’s hand in hand and walked back to my place in silence. After arriving at my back door, we went inside, and with the silence continuing, I pulled him straight into the bathroom, letting go of his hand to dig out the first aid kit for the scrape on his face. A shiner would follow. I brushed a cotton ball doused with antiseptic across his cheek. He didn’t wince or flinch. His eyes never moved from mine. He latched onto my wrist and pulled my hand away from his face.
A tear rolled down his cheek.
“I’ve been in love with you for ten years. I’ve loved you since the first moment I laid eyes on you. I sat back and let my best friend have you. He is still hung up on you, and I don’t know what to do because I can’t lose him, but I won’t ever lose you again. I can’t lose you. I can’t lose us. I love you so much it hurts. It hurts to be without you.”
His lips pressed to mine, and I couldn’t function except to return his kiss. Love. He said love. Paul loves me. He wanted to be with me. I pulled away. I couldn’t hold back the tears. All of my emotions, all of the pain and heartache, all of the time spent apart—I finally heard those three words. I needed to hear them again.
“What did you just say?”
His eyes bore into mine. The passion pulsed between us. This couldn’t be real.
“I love you, Ellie Caldwell. I have loved you forever.”
I fisted his shirt in my hands, my knees weakening. “I love you. I love you so much.”
His lips found mine, and we would never be parted again.
“IT’S GOING TO be fine, Paul.”
My nerves were shot. The past few weeks had been wonderful in one way and gut wrenching in another. Ellie and I were together. Openly. I loved her with all of my heart, and she finally knew. The only problem was that Lance also knew. He quit the farm. Tom agreed to let him handle all of the farm’s finances from home. I hadn’t seen him since the day he showed me his right hook. I rested my palms on the cool granite countertop in her kitchen. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to do this at all.
A knock erupted from her door and she darted downstairs with a bounce. I wasn’t prepared. I didn’t want to have to meet her mother.
Today was a day of thanks, and I had so much to be thankful for. However, I knew Mrs. Rosenbaum was not a huge fan of Paul Harris. I lacked wealth, education, and some sort of social status. My dad used to be the sheriff. I thought that gave me some clout. I had all of the education I needed. I read often enough. I didn’t need an expensive piece of paper that said otherwise. I didn’t need a lot of money. I had Ellie now. I was the wealthiest man alive.
“Ellie, darling, you really should have a door separating your living quarters from your workspace.”
Oh, God. Here we go.
Three sets of footsteps echoed from the stairs. I moved from behind the counter and stepped into the middle of the living area. Ellie met my eyes first. She appeared worried but appreciative. I knew that I had to meet her mother. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with the woman’s daughter. I just didn’t know what would b
e thrown my way today. I wasn’t nearly prepared.
A woman, who looked exactly like Ellie but older, stepped up the final step. Her eyes met mine, and then moved away to take in the surrounding space. She was beautiful, I could admit that, but the look in her eye wasn’t even close to the warmth that Ellie’s evoked. She cocked her eyebrow while studying the ceiling. I piqued in curiosity. It was just a typical bead board.
A man followed behind with gray hair, and the only word that came to mind was dashing. Then I realized that I had been watching one too many old timey British guy movies with Ellie if I were describing someone as dashing. He was dressed in a full suit sans tie, but something told me he took it off while driving down the country highway.
“Mom, George … this is Paul Harris.” Ellie came and stood next to me, wrapping her hand around mine. I looked into her eyes as she gazed up at me. The smile that inched up her face warmed my heart and soothed my nerves. As long as Ellie believed I was good enough for her, then that was all I cared about.
Mr. Rosenbaum stepped around his wife, who had yet to smile at me, and offered his hand. “Paul, it’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard nothing but praise from Ellie.”
“Thank you, sir. You have an amazing stepdaughter.”
His wife snickered under her breath. This would be harder than I thought. I released his grip, stepped in front of Ellie’s mother, and extended my hand. “Mrs. Rosenbaum, it’s nice to finally meet you.”
She stared at my hand in distain, but I wasn’t going to budge. I was a country boy. We killed them with kindness. I smiled, and my hand remained extended, nodding her on to accept. She daintily placed her hand halfway in mine.
“Paul. I’ve heard so much about you.” The fakeness oozed from her words. I could not contain my smirk.
“And I have as well, ma’am.” I didn’t say good things. I didn’t say bad things. Just things I wouldn’t mention. Ellie had to get Mr. Rosenbaum to force his wife to travel south to see her daughter for Thanksgiving. This is how unstable this woman was. She didn’t comprehend that there was a world outside of the streets of Manhattan, and it was quite beautiful. I let her remain in her stuck up state and turned back to Mr. Rosenbaum.