Paige in Progress (Reluctant Hearts #3)
Page 20
I swallow the lump in my throat that surfaces from hearing my dad speak with such emotion. It’s not that he’s closed off, but he’s not exactly an open book either…not like my mom. “I’d do it again.”
“I know you would, son. And so does your mother. Which is why she ran out of here like her pants were on fire.”
It’s quiet for a bit as we both focus on eating the rest of our meal. I shoot glances toward the kitchen, knowing from experience she’ll be in there until there’s no trace of her tears, and then she’ll waltz in, probably carrying a pie, like nothing happened.
My dad clears his throat after a few minutes of silence. “Have you thought about maybe staying? The shop is as much yours as it is ours. And we’re getting up there in age. Wouldn’t mind retiring while I still have some years left to enjoy it.”
I roll my eyes. “Dad, you’re fifty-eight. I don’t think the Grim Reaper is knocking on your door just yet.”
“Doesn’t change that I’m getting itchy. Just something to think about.”
And the thing is, I have thought about it. More than I’d care to admit. Especially now that things with Paige have been progressing positively, despite her temporary freak-out over the R-word. We’ve continued on our non-dates weekly, doing shit most people would probably think was unromantic, but it’s on those nights, seeing her all sweaty and competitive, that I want to fuck her the most. Though, really, there’s never a day when I don’t want to fuck her.
But there’s one thing that keeps tripping me up when I play that future out in my mind—a future where I’m back here, doing exactly what I wanted to get away from. I moved away, went to school in Colorado and got a degree in accounting so I never had to deal with this kind of life. Keep away from the ups and downs and uncertainty that comes from owning your own business. From the sleepless nights and bottomed-out savings accounts and scraping by week to week for half the year. From the lack of security of not working a sure and steady job.
That’s to say nothing of the loyalty I feel toward Ken and his accounting firm. During the four years I was in college in Colorado, he and his wife took me in whenever I couldn’t afford to come home—holidays, long weekends, even just whenever I needed a place to do laundry and didn’t have the quarters to go to the Laundromat. And now? He gave me three months off, no questions asked, knowing how important it was to me to be able to help my parents.
But also knowing without a doubt I’d come back. I can’t leave him in the lurch. More than that, I don’t know that I want to.
I can’t deny how much I’ve enjoyed these past several weeks working at the shop, using my mind as well as my body. Feeling accomplished at the end of the day. But I know, too, that high is circumstantial, because we only had up to go. My parents hit rock bottom before I got here, so any improvement was improvement. I’m here on the upward swing, but it won’t stay that way. It’ll fluctuate, the earnings and subsequently my life fluctuating right along with it.
And it kills me to deny my parents, because if I don’t step up to run the business, it’s going to be sold to a third party. My sister isn’t uprooting her life to run it, besides the fact that it was always a chore for her. Even still, I won’t lie to him. He deserves at least that much. “I have thought about it, Dad, and I can’t. You know that. We’ve talked about it before.”
He nods and glances down at his plate, picking at his food. “Doesn’t hurt to ask again.”
“You’re right. Doesn’t hurt.”
He’s hiding his disappointment well, but I can see it. I’ve just learned really well how to block it out.
an hour and two slices of pie later, I don’t feel any better about turning down my dad. My mom didn’t say anything when she finally came back into the dining room, pretending like nothing happened just as I knew she would. What I also know is as soon as I left, my dad told her exactly what he asked. And exactly what my response was.
Exhaling a deep breath, I unlock my apartment door and walk inside, tossing my keys on the counter and scrubbing a hand through my hair.
“Hey, honey, you’re home!”
The sound of Jase’s booming voice scares the shit out of me, and I jump. “Jesus Christ! You fucker.”
His answering laugh is the only thing that greets me, which just pisses me off more. He picked a bad time to show up. Walking into the main room, I narrow my eyes at him sprawled out on my couch, grin on his face and beer bottle resting on his knee as the TV blares in the background.
“Did you steal my beer?”
He shrugs. “Of course.”
I blow out a sigh. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“It’s so good to see you, too.” He lifts his bottle in my direction before tipping it back to take a drink. “And what the fuck am I doing here? I’m bored. It’s girls’ night at my place, and I’ve been forced out by way of estrogen. They’re probably going to set off fucking glitter bombs and shit. Figured I could drag your ass with me to harass Cade instead of suffering through that. Thought we could play the whole, ‘This food was horrible. I’d like to talk to the chef’ game. You know how much that pisses him off. But first,” he says, pulling something from behind him and dangling it between his fingers, “I have a more important question for you. Whose panties are these?”
I stalk over to him and snatch the tiny scrap of purple lace from him and stuff them in my pocket. I know without a doubt they’re Paige’s. I just saw her ass in them last night when she swung by after a Pilates class for a quick hello. A quick hello that led to her riding me on the granny panty couch.
Jason’s smile grows. “From the scowl on your face, can I assume those belong to none other than our sweet Paige?”
I try to ignore his use of the word our. Try and fail. “She’s not your anything.” I clench my teeth and close my eyes, pressing my thumb and forefinger to them, because goddammit. That infraction is definitely not going to be ignored by Jase. For one blissful minute following my outburst, there’s nothing but silence. Sweet, sweet silence. And then his laugh rolls out of him, the force of it causing him to fall back on the couch, clutching his stomach as he guffaws.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I glare harder at him. “I don’t know what’s so fucking funny.”
“You don’t—” He starts laughing again, shaking his head as he stares at me. “Holy shit, this is the best thing I’ve seen all goddamn week, and that includes sitting across from Cade in a pink hat at one of Haley’s tea parties.”
I definitely need to have some alcohol in my system if I’m going to continue to be subjected to his presence, so I grab a beer from the fridge. “I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.”
“This,” he says, gesturing to me with his bottle. “You. The purveyor of relationships. Mister Rigid and Regimented is falling hard for the one-night stand. Jesusfuck, this is comedy gold.”
And the thing is…he’s not wrong. I don’t know if I’m in love with Paige yet, but there’s no doubting I’m falling. And it’s futile to ignore it any longer. She’s the first person I think of when I wake up, the last person I think of before I go to sleep, and the only person I think about all goddamn day. And the really fucked up part is, I’m not even thinking about all the outstanding sex we have. I’m thinking about random things. How I love when she tucks her feet under my thigh when we’re watching those ridiculous horror movies, and how she doesn’t get scared or cower while we watch, but instead heckles the actors and points out everything totally implausible. How she makes everything into a competition between us—even eating pizza—and takes it as seriously as she would a national championship game. How she makes extra coffee in the mornings for me, because she knows I don’t have a pot at my place.
I’m so fucked.
I flick the bottle cap at his forehead. “I’m glad my misery amuses you.”
“Oh, misery? Is that what we’re calling it when hot girls leave their panties in our couches?”
Collapsing next to him, I tak
e a deep pull from my beer. “No, misery is what I call it when I find a girl I think could actually be it, and I’m leaving in two weeks. Misery is wanting to stay here, but knowing I can’t. Misery is also knowing, with absolute certainty, that the girl who might actually be it will be fucking some other dude a month after I’m gone.”
He stares at me for a moment, then drains his beer. “Well, shit, when you put it like that, it does sound pretty damn miserable.” He stands and heads into the kitchen, tossing his bottle in the garbage before coming back with two glasses and a bottle of Jack. “Fuck going to see Cade. This calls for liquor and lots of it. He can bring his ass here when he’s done.” Jase pours way more than three fingers in each glass, then lifts his to me. “To women rotting our fucking brains and us being stupid enough to let them.”
* * *
paige
Tessa, Winter, and I are crammed on Tessa’s couch, Haley long since passed out and hauled off to her bedroom. She tried to hang with the big girls as long as she could, but by nine, her eyelids were drooping more and more. Now it’s just the three of us, a pile of chips in front of us, and enough tequila to cause some trouble.
“All right, Paige. Spill,” Tessa says, bouncing in her seat as she stares at me over the rim of her glass.
“Spill what?” Lord, I knew this was coming. And, really, it’s my own damn fault. I haven’t said much—or anything really—to Tessa about how things have been going with Adam. In fact, she doesn’t even know it’s become a thing. A bonafide Relationship—capital R—even if it’s an unspoken law that Adam and I never refer to it as that. How I’ve managed to avoid talking to her about it is beyond me. Except I think it has a lot less to do with what I was doing to distract her from getting me to talk about it and more to do with the fact that Tessa allowed me to distract her.
“Nope, you don’t get to play that.” Tessa shakes her head. “I’ve let you avoid it for weeks. Time’s up. Besides, you’re the only safe one I get to hear sex stories from. Winter obviously can’t tell me what my brother’s doing.” She shudders and Winter laughs. “Don’t deprive me.”
“Yeah, Paige, don’t leave the poor girl hanging,” Winter chimes in, wry smile on her face. “And, I mean, I wouldn’t mind hearing some stories, either…”
I take a sip of my strawberry margarita, buying myself some time. Then I stuff some chips in my mouth, looking thoughtful as I chew. When I reach for another handful, Tessa slaps my hand away and throws a chip at my head, the pointy end stabbing me right in the forehead. “Ouch! What the hell?”
“Stop procrastinating! I don’t know when Jason will be home, and I want to hear the story already.”
“All right! Jesus. You don’t have to get violent.” Blowing out a deep breath, I sink back into the couch. “So, Adam and I are fucking. It’s good. Next topic, please.”
They both bark out laughs, shaking their heads. Winter glances at me, her margarita poised in front of her lips. “I’m fairly new to this whole ‘girl time’ thing, and even I know that’s not gonna cut it.”
“What do you want me to tell you guys? You wanna know the last position he fucked me in? Or how many times he’s gone down on me? How many orgasms I’ve had because of him and his magical cock or how big said magical cock is?” I close my eyes, my memories like a dirty flipbook in my mind. “Because the answers are: cowgirl, too many to count, and he’s ruined me for all others, vibrators included.”
“Oh my damn. He’s better than B.O.B.?” Tessa asks seriously.
Laughing, I say, “Girl…there’s no competition. Not even a little.”
“Whoa.” She takes another sip of her drink, emptying her glass. “Thank God for tequila. Otherwise, I’m not sure I could handle hearing this about the first non-related boy I ever saw naked.”
My spine snaps straight. “Hold on…what’d you say?” I can’t keep the hard edge out of my voice, and I’m only slightly embarrassed that my jealousy is rearing its head in front of the one person who knows me better than anyone else. I’ve never been a jealous person. I’ve never needed to be, I guess, with how my relationships—or lack thereof—usually go. But even with Bryan, I didn’t feel like this—like I want to claw out the eyes of any and all girls who’ve been with Adam before. Apparently that goes for girls who’ve seen him naked before, too.
“Oh, chill out, Xena Warrior Princess. I was seven. Pretty sure he’s changed quite a bit since then.”
I settle back into the pillow, letting my ramrod straight back relax into the cushions. “Well, okay, then. You could’ve led with that tidbit of information. How would you like it if I said I’ve seen Jase naked?” That wipes the smile from her face, and I laugh at the scowl she’s wearing instead. I’m smug as I say, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
“Okay, I think we can all agree none of us want any other girls to see our guys naked,” Winter says.
I start to nod in agreement, then stop myself. My guy? Adam’s not my guy. Not even a little bit. He’s just a guy I hang out with sometimes. Just a guy I talk to every day, and I sleep with nearly every night. Just a guy I’m fucking for an extended period of time.
Just a guy I’m in a Relationship with for the first time in five years…
Before I can well and truly freak out, Winter tilts her head. “How much time does he have left before he goes back to Colorado? From what Cade’s told me, Adam’s parents’ shop is back on track. He might even be able to leave early.”
I don’t miss the heavy silence that falls around us, or the worried look Tessa shoots my way, but I can’t focus on it. I can’t focus on anything except the gaping wound that somehow opened up in my chest at Winter’s words. Adam and I haven’t talked about the end of the summer. It’s been this abstract thing, just sort of hovering in the back of my mind as an expiration date. My safety net. But now, hearing that I might not have as long as I’d originally thought with him? It churns my stomach, makes my palms clammy, sends my mind spinning. Makes me wish I didn’t have that stupid safety net.
Makes me wish I didn’t need it.
TWENTY-SEVEN
paige
A couple hours later, I pull into a parking spot at my apartment building and climb out of my car. While I wanted nothing more than to get absolutely smashed in the face of the epiphany I had at Tessa’s, I knew I had to drive home at some point tonight, so I cut myself off. Funny how thoughts of what the hell am I doing? can sober you up really damn quick.
The front door to the building opens just before I get there, and Cade and Jason walk out, both looking a little rough.
“Hey, guys. Bar brawl tonight?”
They glance at each other, then back at me, neither cracking a smile. “Yeah, something like that,” Cade says, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Ooookay…” I shift my eyes between them, taking in everything with a scrutinizing eye. “You both okay to drive? I can drop you guys off if you need me to…”
Cade waves me off, grabbing his keys from his pocket and tossing them into the air before he catches them. “Nah, we’re all right. The third person in our party, though? Not so much.”
“Adam? He got drunk?” I fail to keep the surprise out of my voice.
Jase looks at the building and shakes his head before turning back to me. “I think drunk is a bit too tame for what he is right now.”
“And fair warning,” Cade says, “he’s parked on the floor outside your apartment door. Dragged his ass out there and refused to go back into his place until he saw you, despite how many times we assured him it was a bad fucking idea. I can haul him in there, though, if you need me to.”
I’m so shocked at the fact that Adam—follow the rules, responsible Adam—is shitfaced and sitting outside my apartment door that I don’t take Cade up on his offer, despite my epic freak out from earlier. Despite the fact that I could really use some time to myself. “Nah, that’s okay. I’ll slap him a couple times and give him some coffee. He’ll be all right.”
“Don’t sla
p him too hard, Paige. He had a rough night.” Jason isn’t serious very often, but there’s an edge to his voice now as he steps off the stoop, Cade following.
“Why? Did something happen at the shop?” I turn around as they walk past me and toward the street where both their cars are parked.
Cade tips his head toward the building. “You’ll have to ask him. See ya.”
I offer a wave, then head inside, unsure of what I’m going to find when I get to the bottom of the steps.
Whatever I thought I’d see doesn’t live up to what I’m actually met with. Adam is slumped over in front of my door, his black-framed glasses sitting crookedly on his face, his hair a mess. He’s resting his head on the doorjamb, and his eyes are glazed as he brings a mostly empty bottle of Jack to his lips.
“Okay, drunkie, you’ve probably had enough tonight, don’t you think?” I ask as I squat in front of him, taking the bottle from his hand.
“Hey, baby,” he slurs, then makes a face. “That one sucked. Gimme a minute. I can do better.”
I breathe out a laugh, ignoring the flip of my stomach, and tug his arm. “That’s okay. How about we get you up so we don’t give Mrs. Connelly a show, huh?”
“That old bat loves me. She told me she was gonna steal me away from you. I told her you wouldn’t even put up a fight for me, so she could steal me whenever.”
His words are like a wrecking ball through my chest. While I’ve never thought of Adam as particularly withdrawn, it’s clear he’s sharing a lot more than he ever would if he were sober. And the thought that he thinks I wouldn’t fight for him hurts. The fact that I know I probably wouldn’t? It’s too much.
What I need is some breathing room. To get away from Adam and be by myself so I can think. Figure out what this maelstrom of feelings spinning around inside me are. Unfortunately, I have over six feet of hard-bodied male slumped against my door, so it looks like my needs are going to be put on hold for a while.