Peg lifted one shoulder. “Well, you won’t talk to us, so what other choice do we have?”
“You’re both making too much of this,” I argued. “I told you, nothing is wrong.”
“Is it your health?” she persisted. “Are you sick, Peyton? Because you can talk to me. We can figure it out.”
“No, I’m the absolute picture of health. I had my annual check-up last week.”
“I know, I saw it on the calendar. That’s why I thought you might have gotten . . . worrying news.”
“Nope, healthy as a horse.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Probably going to live to see a hundred.”
“Well, shouldn’t we all be so lucky.” Peg shook her head. “All right. You know you can talk to me about anything, Peyton, don’t you? After all this time we’ve been together, I’ve never known you to keep a secret. And I’ve never kept one from you, either.”
My lip twitched, but I said nothing.
Peg sighed and continued past me into the back. Once she was out of sight, I wilted, slumping back onto my stool. She wasn’t wrong; the last few weeks had been . . . difficult. I’d driven back to Savannah from my overnight in Burton in a rush of righteous indignation and near outrage.
Where in thehelldid Nash get off, expecting me to just agree to give up everything in my life on the strength of a weekend high school reunion hook-up and one night together in Burton? What kind of fool would I be if I dropped my work, my family, and my home for a man I hardly knew? I thought of customers I’d known over the years, co-workers from back before I had my own business: there were always certain women who had totally bought into the belief that love made everything perfect, and that sacrificing their own dreams and goals on the altar of their lover’s ambitions was as it should be.
Even back when I was a struggling young single mother, I had vowed that I would never be like them. I knew my priorities, and I was going to do whatever I could to make my dreams a reality.
And I had. Charlie had grown up knowing nothing but love and support. She had everything she could need, materially speaking, and she had excelled in school, thrived in college, and been the top of her class in law school. She was my shining star.
More than that, I’d managed to find a way to be my own boss and work for myself instead of making money for someone else. I loved both the freedom and responsibility of owning my store, and I wasn’t going to drop that just because I had a second chance for real and abiding love.
Tears sprang to my eyes unbidden, and I rested my forehead on my hand, covering my eyes. At some point between leaving Burton—and Nash—and a few days ago, the air had leaked out of my anger, and I’d been weepy, sad, and forlorn. A small part of me that I kept trying to ignore was second-guessing what I’d done, and God help me, I’d come close to texting Nash too many times to count.
But each time, I resisted, reminding myself that I had taken care of myself just fine before, and I would do it again. I forced the memory of our night in his bedroom out of my mind, and I ignored the flashbacks of our long conversations and laughter. A long time ago, I’d made a choice for my daughter. I’d made a choice for myself. It was too late to change my mind.
My phone pinged, and I glanced at the screen, expecting a scolding text from Charlie as I imagined that Peg had messaged her about my continued assurance that everything was just fine. It wasn’t the first time that my daughter and her grandmother had formed a united front against me, but it still annoyed me whenever it happened.
But the name on the screen didn’t belong to my daughter. There was only a name and a link to a song on a music app.
Nash:LINK:An Innocent Man by Billy Joel
There wasn’t anything else—no message, no explanation, and even after I’d waited for a few minutes, there was no follow-up text. Frowning, I hit the link and listened to the song.
“Oh, I love Billy Joel.” Peg emerged from the back, smiling as she carried the order box to a table, adding a couple of small sample-sized products before she sealed it. “Music is a great idea. It always makes me feel better.”
But I couldn’t speak; my throat was tight, and my eyes were swimming with tears. I’d listened to this song countless times over the past forty years; like Peg, I loved Billy Joel, and since this particular album had come out when I was in middle school, right smack in the middle of a very angsty phase of life, I’d sung along loudly for the better part of my life.
The words had particular meaning now, especially since this was the first communication I’d had from Nash in almost two weeks. Listening to the lyrics both convicted and worried me: was he thinking that I was as defensive and stuck as the woman in the song? Was this Nash’s way of telling me that I’d allowed my fear of being a fool—again—deprive me of a second chance at love?
But when I played the song again (much to Peg’s consternation), I paid more attention to the words. It was sung from the point of view of the man—the innocent man—who was willing to wait for the scared and skittish woman to believe that he was different. In the song, he promised to do anything to restore her faith, to help keep her alive in the wake of her pain.
Once the last note had died away for a second time, I picked up my phone to respond to him, only to realize that I didn’t know what to say. Should I just respond with a simple thank you, or should I tell him that I was sorry, or . . .?
My phone buzzed again before I could decide. It was another text from Nash, with another song link.
Nash:Link: Can’t Fight This Feeling by REO Speedwagon
This time, my smile couldn’t be contained. I tapped the link and closed my eyes, listening closely to the lyrics sung by the impossibly smooth voices of the Speedwagon. This song was easier to understand as the singer crooned about friendship that had grown stronger. I wondered if Nash had listened to this song back in high school, and even as I knew that I wouldn’t change the way life had unfurled for either of us, I wished that he’d told me back then how he felt. Would I have been brave enough to accept him then? I wasn’t sure, but a girl could hope.
“On a little bit of an eighties kick today, huh?” Peg finished smoothing on the address label of the last online order. “I like it. And I like even more that it’s put a smile on your face.”
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “You worry too much.”
“I don’t like to see either of my girls unhappy.” She picked up her packages. “I’m running these to the post office. Is there anything I can do for you while I’m out?”
