by Chelle Sloan
“So, if you’re done, and I’m done, that means we’re both free, correct?”
His question comes with a small smile and I hate that it turns my insides to goo. “I have a shift at the hospital later this afternoon. Why? What did you have in mind?”
Garrett steps from behind the registration table and holds his hand out for me. “If you think the donuts were good, then you have to try the French toast at this diner up the street. Come on. My treat.”
How can a girl say no to that?
Chapter Thirteen
Garrett
“What’s good here? I can’t decide between French toast or pancakes.”
Paige asks her question without looking up from the laminated menu that probably hasn’t been updated in thirty years. With her eyes cast down, reading every detail about a stack of pancakes, it gives me an opportunity to take her in.
She’s so… real. Genuine. I don’t know any woman who leaves the house without makeup on, let alone to go work voluntarily in front of hundreds of people first thing on a Saturday morning. Not only does Paige not have an ounce of makeup on, but she’s also more beautiful today than any other time I’ve seen her. She’s the kind of woman not many men deserve to share a meal with. Let alone a guy like me.
“I’m partial to the French toast. Though, I’ve never heard anyone complain about anything here. I guess it depends on what you are in the mood for this morning.”
I smile as her lips purse, her level of concentration quite high for a simple breakfast order. Or maybe it was my choice of words. Because I know what I’m in the mood for, and it’s definitely not on the menu.
“You know you could order both?”
She snaps her eyes up to mine. “Both? No. That’s way too much food. Though maybe I could take the leftovers to one of the patients I visited yesterday. He’d enjoy that. We were talking about breakfast foods and he mentioned how much he loves pancakes and that the ones at the hospital weren’t edible.”
The thought of her visiting another patient sends a ridiculous pang of jealousy through me.
She’s a volunteer at the hospital, asshole. She visits patients. You aren’t special.
“I thought you didn’t visit patients?” I ask, remembering our conversation from Christmas Eve.
She sets the menu down, apparently having decided. “I didn’t at that time. Getting to spend time with you made me remember how much I missed it. I’ve been staying for an hour or so after my shifts and dropping in on the patients who haven’t had guests.”
“Where did you come from, Paige Blackstone?”
I didn’t mean to ask that out loud, but judging by the look she is giving me, I very much voiced that thought.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine,” she begins, taking a breath before replying. “The technical answer is a small town in Alabama that you probably don’t even know exists. So small that I was related to half of my graduating class of twenty-eight students. It doesn’t even have a newspaper that covers the town. The football team made it to the playoffs one year and no one was there to document it.”
This makes me laugh because I can’t even imagine a town that small. I didn’t even know every member of my high school graduating class because it was so big. “That explains your accent.”
Before she can respond to that, the waitress comes by and we place our order: two orders of French toast, one order of pancakes.
“Yeah, I can’t seem to shake it,” Paige continues. “If you can imagine, it was a lot thicker when I moved here. And I go really Southern when I’m angry.”
“Well, I can’t imagine you angry. When did you move here?”
“Yes. I can get angry. I have to be pushed to my absolute limit. And I moved here for college. I went to Virginia Tech. Majored in education. It took me a few years to find a job after I graduated, so I substituted before I landed at Jefferson. But it was worth it.”
“What made you pick Tech? It’s not exactly close to Alabama.”
She brings her coffee mug to her lips, taking a careful sip of the hot liquid before answering. “This is really good coffee. You wouldn’t think that a small diner like this would have really good coffee. I know good coffee and this, this is good coffee.”
I give her a knowing look, realizing a stall tactic when I see one. “I take it that talking about Alabama is off the table? And yes, the coffee here is amazing. Anytime I’m out this way, I swing by and pick up a cup.”
Paige sets her mug down, staring at it like it’s going to give her the answers to the world.
“I’m sorry. I just… that’s the most I’ve talked about my hometown in years. When I left Alabama, I promised myself that it was going to stay in my past. I really don’t like talking about it.”
I nod, understanding wanting to leave the past in the past.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… hell, I didn’t even mean to bring the topic up. I just… you’re like no one I’ve ever met.”
“In a good way?”
“In the best way.”
My comment hangs in the air as the waitress puts our meals in front of us. I dive straight into my French toast as Paige separates her two meals into a to-go box she asked for immediately.
“So now, I have to ask you, where did you come from?”
I look up at Paige, and from the smile she’s giving me, she’s not talking about where I was born, but since she shared, I should too.
“New York by way of Boston. I’m originally from Virginia. My mom still lives in Norfolk.”
Paige smiles, shaking her head, knowing what I just did. “Thank you for that, but I was meaning today. Why did you come to volunteer?”
“You.”
The look on her face is pure shock.
“Me? How did you know I would be there?”
I didn’t mean that I went there to see her, though I must say she was an added bonus when I saw her this morning. But since she’s taking it this way, why not have a little fun?
“Well, it was a charity event. And you apparently volunteer for every nonprofit in the county. I figured the odds were in my favor.”
She shakes her head, a shy smile hitting her lips. “I don’t volunteer everywhere.”
“Name one place you don’t.”
She starts to speak, then stops about five times, which of course, causes us both to laugh.
“Fine. I volunteer at a lot of places,” she says, trying to hide her smile behind her coffee cup. “You didn’t answer my question. Why did you come to the race today?”
I take a sip of coffee, stalling for a second to find my words. I don’t know why I’m embarrassed by admitting this. Well, I do. It’s because this new version of me, or the person I’m determined to try and become, feels like a foreign skin still. Then again, this is Paige. I doubt she could make me feel bad or embarrassed about anything.
“After our talk in the hospital, I realized a few things about myself. The biggest one is that I didn’t like the man I had become.”
“You figured that out by talking to me? And here I thought you were just testing out pickup lines.”
I laugh, appreciating her attempt at humor. “You’re such a good person. You do so much for others. You’ve managed to turn my demon-child nephew into a not complete terror. You order breakfast for people you barely know. And there I was lying in a hospital bed, having nearly died, and realizing that I was a shit human.”
“You aren’t a sh—bad person.”
“We will get back to you not saying shit in a second. But yes, I am. Or, I was. Well, I’m trying not to be. You inspired me, Paige. So did Boomer, but don’t tell him that because his ego is already big enough.”
This makes her laugh, which I’m relieved about. This conversation got much heavier than I anticipated.
“As to why I was there today? I was originally going to run in the race. I try to run a few 5Ks a year, usually ones that have medical charity ties because it looks good for
my practice. And I figured, well, I was thinking since I couldn’t run, I could still volunteer. That it would be a good thing to do. But I don’t feel like I did much.”
Paige shakes her head, reaching for my hand. It’s not a romantic touch, but that doesn’t mean a shock doesn’t zip through my body.
“It was a great thing to do. Do you know how much you helped me today? I would have been going out of my mind having to register two lines alone. You could have stayed home, saying you paid your race fee and you did your part for charity. But you didn’t. Did you see the smile on Christina’s face when you showed up? You were her savior today. And mine. So don’t for a minute doubt that what you did today was anything other than awesome.”
“All I did was pass out swag bags,” I say, trying to deflect her compliment.
“I heard runners get pretty crabby when they don’t get their free T-shirt.”
We both laugh, releasing some of the heavy from our conversation.
The waitress comes and sets our check on the table, signaling to both of us that it’s probably time to go. Paige tries to reach for the check, but I quickly snatch it away from her.
“I told you. My treat.”
She gives me a smile, one of many I’ve earned over the course of today’s events. “Thank you for breakfast. And helping me today.”
“It was my pleasure. Maybe we can do it again sometime?”
I don’t mean for it to come out like I’m asking for a date, but by the look that she’s giving me, that’s exactly how it came out. Hell, since I got out of the hospital a week ago I haven’t been in the same room with Annika to even ask for a separation, and I have no clue where she is. No way am I ready to date anyone.
I might be insanely attracted to Paige, but even I know it’s not smart to jump right into another relationship. And even if I was a free man… with Paige… I could never. She’s too, well, she’s too damn good for an asshole like me.
“I meant, volunteering,” I stammer, hoping I can voice my thoughts without sounding like a pussy. “I-I want to try to do more. Like I said, you and Boomer inspired me. Other than volunteering at the run today, I have no idea how to even do it. The only charity work I’ve ever done is writing checks and eating expensive meals in tuxedos.”
I get another smile, and this one is the brightest of them all. “I’d love to. How about this. I’m running a food drive at Cullen’s school. I could use a few more volunteers. Plus, you could earn good uncle points.”
I clap my hands, loving the idea. “Sounds perfect. Just let me know what you need. I can even get the practice involved, if needed.”
We exchange numbers, for volunteer purposes only, of course. I pay our bill and lead her out of the diner just as she turns to face me.
“Do you remember the question you didn’t mean to ask me earlier that I avoided?”
I nod. “I do, but you don’t have to—”
She cuts me off. “I want to. You asked me where I come from? Where we all come from? I’m a byproduct of my past. We all are. You can’t change what happened to you, just like I can’t change my past. We can only choose how we let it dictate our future. Thanks again for breakfast.”
She pats my arm before walking to her car and leaving me in awe.
It’s official. Paige Blackstone is like no one I have ever met.
Chapter Fourteen
Paige
I know I’m in the minority when it comes to teachers, but I’m always excited to come back from Christmas break. I enjoy my time off, and it’s good to recharge my batteries, but after a while, I start missing my tiny friends.
And there’s nothing quite like that first week back from break when it comes to five- and six-year-olds. They are bursting at the seams to tell me all about their Christmas vacations, and show-and-tell is pretty epic.
Unfortunately, the feeling doesn’t extend past kindergarten.
“Ughhhh. I can’t believe we have homework already! This sucks. Why can’t it still be Christmas break?”
The sentiment comes from Anthony, a fourth-grader I tutor a few times a week who insists on sitting at his old desk every time he comes in. He was one of my students years ago, and although I’m not supposed to have favorites, he was totally one of mine. I also correctly guessed what his role in my class would be that year: He was the protector. He was nice to every kid in class and was the first to report if he saw anyone being bullied or being picked on.
How can you not love a kid like that?
His heart is bigger than his body, and it kills me how much he struggles in school. Especially because it’s not been an easy life for him or his mom. She told me last year during a parent-teacher conference about how she has struggled to stay clean—she had a drug addiction when she first got pregnant with Anthony—while also holding down a job, all without the help of Anthony’s father, who has been out of the picture since day one. All of that hit a little too close to home for me. So I offered to help him a few times a week. I’m still hurting from how hard she hugged me.
“Because Christmas can’t last forever. If it did, then you’d get bored with it. It would lose its magic, right?”
He thinks about that for a second before shaking his head. “Nope. I’d love it. I wish I could live in a town that was like those movies my mom watches where it’s Christmas all year round.”
I laugh, imagining Anthony watching a sappy Hallmark movie. “Well, maybe if you get a handle on this math stuff, you can open your own Christmas store in a town named Holly.”
“Holly? Nah. Not Christmas-y enough. I’d live in Jingleville.”
I laugh at his name and signal for him to get back to work, which he does now with a small smile on his face. Anthony’s homework today doesn’t require a lot of help from me, but he likes having me as a security blanket in case he has a question. Which means I can finally get to work on this food drive and the carnival. We’ve been back in school for a week and at least ten of The Helicopters have asked how the plans for the event are going.
The answer I’ve told them? Fine. It’s fine. Everything is fine.
The real answer? I’m starting to panic a little.
I don’t know why I’m having so much trouble with this. The carnival is easy, find some games, get a dunking booth, and rent a bounce house. And I’ve organized dozens of food drives. Maybe it’s because I’ve never had the weight of the most over-involved mothers in the history of ever breathing down my neck.
It started when I first pitched the food drive at the beginning of the year. They seemed all for it when they thought I was doing it around Christmas—it would be a nice way to promote the school giving back to the community. When I told them that I wanted to do it in the spring, the looks they gave me threatened to negate each of their Botox injections.
I had my reasoning. Everyone volunteers, donates, and wants to give back during the holidays. What people fail to realize is that people who need help just don’t need help on December twenty-fifth. Or on Thanksgiving. Then again, how could I expect a group of mothers who have never wanted for anything a day in their lives to understand what being in need really is like.
My problem is that I needed something for an incentive, and I was drawing a blank. Back in the day—yes, I know how old that makes me sound—a class pizza party would be enough to get kids to raid their parents’ cupboards for canned goods. Unfortunately, these days a few slices of pie don’t cut it.
“Are you going to get that?” Anthony’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.
“Huh?”
“Are you OK, Miss Blackstone?”
I give him a puzzling look, wondering how deep in thought I must have been. “Yeah, why?”
“Because your phone has been vibrating and you haven’t even looked at it.”
As if on cue, another buzz comes through. When I pick it up, I notice I have a missed call from an unknown number. Likely a telemarketer. I ignore it and then see I have a text message that immediately puts a smile on my face.<
br />
Garrett: Did you forget about me?
I smile because, of course, I didn’t. How could I? Since our impromptu breakfast last weekend, I’ve thought about him more than I’ll ever admit to anyone. Then I realize he has sent more than one text.
Garrett: Wow, I didn’t realize I was that forgettable. Apparently, you need another pickup line to answer me. Fine. I didn’t think I’d need to break one out this soon.
I can’t help but smile as I read the most ridiculous line I’ve ever heard.
Garrett: Your eyes are bluer than the Atlantic Ocean. And I don’t mind being lost at sea!
I chuckle, shaking my head as I respond.
Paige: That was horrible.
Garrett: But it worked. You’re responding to me now.
Paige: Sorry, I didn’t hear my phone vibrate. And no, I didn’t forget about you. Just been busy with school starting back up. Plus, I didn’t have any new information for you.
Garrett: Didn’t you say you’re going to put me to work on the food drive?
Paige: I wish I had something for you to work on. I’m stuck.
Garrett: Stuck? It’s a food drive. I know I’m just getting into this volunteer stuff, but don’t you just stick a box out and ask for food?
Paige: In theory, yes. But there needs to be an incentive. These kids and parents won’t do this just out of the goodness of their hearts. And I’m drawing a blank.
I look up at Anthony, who is working diligently on his homework.
“You doing OK?”
He writes something else down before looking up. “Yup. I mean, math still stinks, but I think I’m doing it right.”
I smile, agreeing with him that math does stink, thankful that the extent of math I need to teach in kindergarten is counting.