AllFreeNovel
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MICAH
I scoopup the bag from the porch and punch in the front-door code. Peyton, less than a foot behind me, has my heart beating with purpose for the first time in weeks.
She’s here. We are talking again.
Within hours, my life feels less daunting. All the craziness weighing me down—the possibility of fatherhood and an unhinged ex-bedmate—is pounds lighter now. Because Peyton is here. Her presence alone gives me a boost I didn’t know I needed. Our relationship—the weird place between friendship and next level—may never be what it was pre–bomb drop, but Peyton approaching me tonight was a step in a favorable direction.
Over the last thirteen days, I had my doubts. Questioned whether she would speak to me again. With each passing day of silence and her obvious avoidance, I closed off more and more. Every time my phone alerted me to a text, excitement soared in my veins. Only to fizzle out a second later when I didn’t see her name on the screen.
Work was worse. Ten times worse. Because of her promotion and the schedule changes, we spent less time in the same space. Her not stuck behind the bar all night changed things, too. Before her promotion, she stayed in one place all night. I could count on her proximity by stepping behind the bar. Could easily keep my eyes on her. But now, she is as mobile as me and almost impossible to pin down.
Until tonight.
Tonight, Peyton opened up to me again. Took initiative. Gave us another shot. And I won’t waste the opportunity. Won’t do anything to fuck this, us, up again.
We settle on the couch and I take containers out of the bag and set them on the table. “Hope you’re good with Italian.”
“Let me just get this out of the way.” Shit. Does she have food allergies? I mean, she eats pizza. Practically devours it. Figured Italian was a safe bet. “I haven’t met a food I don’t like. Not yet, anyway.”
Thank fuck.
“Good to know for future reference.”
I open boxes to reveal cheese ravioli, meat lasagna, salad, and garlic knots. I hand her a paper plate and a package of plastic cutlery from the bag. We portion a little of everything onto our plates before scooting back on the couch, cross-legged, and digging in. Well, I eat a bit slower since my appetite was absent for too many days. Last thing I need is to run to the bathroom and embarrass myself at the throne.
“Still working at the ALF?” I ask to spark some form of conversation. Although the quiet has been mostly comfortable with Peyton, I miss talking with her. More than expected.
“Mmhm,” she mumbles around a bite of food. “Only on Sunday for a few hours, though.” The corners of her mouth turn down slightly.
I love that Peyton is doing well for herself, but hate that her promotion has taken away something she enjoys. I may not know the entire backstory or understand her reasons, but working at the facility brings her joy. Spending time and chatting with a group of elders makes her smile. That is what matters.
“Sorry you don’t get to visit as often.”
“Thanks.” The corners of her mouth tip up in a halfhearted smile. “Knew being there less would be a side effect to the promotion. Ms. Jenkins is happy with the change.”
“Ms. Jenkins?”
“An older woman I visit with regularly. She’s always telling me to move on and quit visiting the old folks. I tell her it makes me happy to see her.”
“Does it?”
“Does it what?”
“Make you happy?”
Without an ounce of hesitation, she answers. “Yes. It’s probably weird, but it reminds me of when I spent time with my Nana. She passed a few years back. I visited with her often. We talked for hours about my life and hers. She’d ask about my goals and how I’d accomplish them. I traveled the globe with her stories of adventure. On lazier days, we played cards or sewed cross stitch. Life with Nana was simple and peaceful and full of love. Every memory of or with her squeezes my heart.” She places a hand over her heart and pats. In a blink, her eyes glass over and I see and feel every ounce of love Peyton had for this woman.
Her spending time at the facility makes more sense now. And I am more in awe of the woman beside me.
“Your Nana sounds like a wonderful woman.”
“She was,” she says with a sniffle.
“Sorry.” Peyton scrunches her brow as she wipes under her eyes. “For upsetting you.”
Peyton waves me off. “I love talking about her and reliving those memories. Please don’t apologize.”
“I’m sorry for two weeks ago. For what went down. I’m sorry it happened and you had the stress on your shoulders, too. I would never want that for you and it wasn’t—isn’t—fair.”
“Not like you knew it would happen,” she states.
“True. Still sorry. This whole ordeal shouldn’t be yours to take on. Not the stress or concern. None of it. And I get why you needed time to sort through it all and how you felt.”
Peyton jabs at her lasagna, her eyes darting left and right, then left again. When serious matters come up, I love that Peyton doesn’t word vomit her feelings. She digests them and sorts through them before speaking her mind. She carefully crafts her words before opening her mouth. Because once out in the open, words can’t be taken back.
“I didn’t mean for it to take so long,” she mumbles before lifting her gaze to mine.
A zing flares in my chest. My heart does a little dance, knowing she didn’t want to be apart as long as we were. But the jubilation is quickly replaced with a pinch. I hate the melancholy in her voice, the slump in her shoulders, and the downturn of her lips.
Between the two of us, only I should be riddled with guilt. Not Peyton.
My knee grazes hers and I delight in the connection. “I know. But we all do things in our own way and time. Please, just don’t shut me out again. I’ll beg, if necessary. If you need space or time for yourself, just tell me. But check in from time to time.”
Her eyes glaze over as she nibbles her lower lip. Damn, I want my lips on hers. Unhurried, she nods and frees her imprisoned lip.
“I will.”
Unable to resist, I reach forward and brush the wetness off her cheek. “Please, don’t cry.” I lick the lone, salty tear from my finger. “Things were good between us. Then, my past barreled in and threw us in reverse.” Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply, then meet the violet irises I have missed dearly. “And I’ll understand if you want nothing more than friendship. For however long. I don’t like the idea, but understand and respect it, if that’s what you need.”
