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I inch back and stare into kind brown eyes. Eyes full of love and sincerity. More times than I can count, Reese has held my hand. Been my stronghold or lifted me up. Been there for me without judgment or conditions. No matter what bullshit life throws at either of us, our friendship never crumbles. As if fate knew I needed someone to love me in every way except romantically.
Reese is my person, and I am his. Day or night, through thick and thin, we are there for each other.
I spill every unsettling second about tonight. About the woman and how Micah reacted to the whole situation. How the entire scenario felt like a dull knife pushing into my rib cage. How the knife twisted each time Micah denied the possibility. And how the knife gutted me when Micah wanted to go about things as if the woman never stepped foot in Roar.
“My sweet Peyton.” Reese hugs me close again. “I understand your pain and frustration with all this.” He releases me and leans back to look into my eyes. “But if I were in his shoes, I’d be equally defensive. Especially if I took every precaution.”
“Are you seriously taking his side?” I whine and narrow my eyes.
Warmth wraps my hand as Reese takes it in his. “This isn’t about sides, sunshine. First of all, you’ll always be number one. Always. Second, stop and really think about it. Put yourself in his position. If someone approached you and told you something equally life changing, wouldn’t you question it?” I teeter my head left and right. “The answer is yes. We’ve known each other too many years to say otherwise.”
He has me there. For obvious reasons, I can’t put myself in Micah’s shoes. Me impregnating someone is impossible. But if someone accused me of something heinous that I felt was inconceivable, I would deny it without evidence too.
“This is one of a long list of reasons why I need you. You know me. You explain it from different views until I have more than one perspective.” I huff out a deep breath and my shoulders cave inward. “Not that it resolves how I feel, but thank you.”
Reese pats my hand. “Don’t drive yourself crazy thinking about it. But don’t let it go without giving it genuine thought. It’s a big deal, but not the end of the world. No sense in worrying over something that may not hold merit.”
I rise from his lap and he stands too. “Thanks for always being here. Don’t know what I’d do without you.” I wrap my arms around his neck and hug him hard.
His arms circle my waist and hug with equal strength. “Live a boring life, I’m sure.” I drop a hand and poke his ribs. “Argh! It was a joke. Geez.”
“Ha ha,” I deadpan. I pick up my purse and keys from the floor and start for the hall. “Going to try and get some sleep. Night.”
“Sleep tight, sunshine. I’ll make us French toast in the morning.”
I press a hand to my heart. “With extra powdered sugar?”
“Always.”
After changing into a knee-length nightshirt, I slip under the covers and close my eyes. Sleep doesn’t take me quickly, like usual. Instead, my brain clicks on and evaluates every possible outcome to several scenarios. An hour of mental torment passes, and I have no viable answers. I can’t.
Because I don’t know Micah well enough to know what he would do. Nor what the truth is when it comes to the red-dress woman.
So, I do my best to let it go. Let go of an outcome I have no control of. Let go of a future I can’t predict. Let go of the what-ifs and fabricated scenarios my mind created.
* * *
“You look like shit.”
Nothing like bluntness when you need softer edges. “Thanks, Aunt Leanne. I love you, too,” I say with a dash of sarcasm as I slide into the booth across from her.
Monday has always been our day. Lunch after I leave Gulfside. An hour or two of girl time as we catch up on life. My weekly dose of Dad’s side of the family. But with the new change in my work schedule and last night’s bullshit, I need to see her today.
“Don’t get your panties in a bunch. All I meant is you seem exhausted.”
Exhaustion is a good word to explain how I feel. My limbs are heavier than Corinthian pillars. Eyes swollen, veiny and dry. My mind spends so much time in the fog, I’d swear we lived near the San Francisco Bay rather than Tampa Bay. And my heart… well, my heart currently teeters on barbed wire. Sleep was a joke last night; or should I say this morning. I may have slept three hours max as I tried my damnedest to let go. Easier said than done.
“Yeah, yesterday was rough. Glad you could meet up.”
Aunt Leanne reaches across the table and covers my hand with hers. “Me, too. Now let’s get some food and talk.”
We study the menu and pick out lunch as the server approaches the table. Once we place our orders, I sip my water while Aunt Leanne lifts a brow and waits for me to spill every detail.
In so many ways, Aunt Leanne reminds me of Dad. Her bluntness and no-nonsense attitude. But also, her never-ending patience and practical mind. Whenever life feels off-kilter, Aunt Leanne uses her saintlike restraint and listens to every word. Just like Dad did. She lets me spill all the crazy details, then sits quietly for a bit and lets my words marinate. Figures out which parts are most important and starts there first.
“Remember the guy at work I told you about?”
She studies my eyes a beat. “Mmhm.”
“Well, a couple nights ago, we kissed. And not your basic peck. More the hot and heavy kind.”
Just like Dad and Aunt Leanne, I don’t beat around the bush either. Some conversations are tougher to have, but they spill out sooner or later.
“Why do I get the feeling this kiss was great then, but isn’t now?”
