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I can actually feel the flames in my cheeks when I sit next to Trotter.
He pulls me against him with his arm around my shoulder. “Looks good on you. Missed seeing you this happy.”
ChapterFifteen
Cash
I’m rushing around the house, making sure everything is cleaned up and in its place for my date with Hadley.
Last night I picked up Hadley, Trotter, and Logan for the football game and to say the entire night was interesting, would be putting it mildly.
Trotter and Logan were absolutely hysterical. Yelling at the refs and getting the crowd worked up, cheering along with the cheerleaders and acting like super fans of Red Oak High. It was absolutely awesome. I’m still not sure where they found foam fingers and airhorns but most of the crowd seemed entertained by their enthusiasm. Most, anyway.
Apparently back in the day, Trotter was one of the star football players at he and Hadley’s high school. Hadley whispered to me that they didn’t have what one would call a ‘winning team’, but that didn’t stop Trotter from reliving his entire four years while watching last night’s game. At one point, Logan got up and made someone sit between them. A complete stranger. Five minutes later, she made Logan switch seats once again. Trotter didn’t seem bothered one bit; he kept telling stories of his glory days.
After the game, Brooklyn introduced Trotter to Weston, who seemed a little overwhelmed by Trotter and his play-by-play of the night’s game. The game that Weston played in and clearly didn’t need someone to tell him what happened, but he was a good sport about it.
Trotter and Logan are clearly huge football fans and I don’t mind one bit because after the game last night they went online and bought tickets to an upcoming Tennessee Volunteers game – Go Vols! – and bought tickets for me, my brothers, and nephew to join them.
The way Trotter is seemingly adopting the Lake family makes me think he’s expecting us to be around for a while. It might be premature to think that way, but I’m not mad about it either.
Ever since Hadley texted me the night before Dorothy’s heart attack, we’ve been growing closer and closer. We text throughout the day, and she stops in at the office with coffee or pastries from the bakery – I found out later she was the one who brought the box of pastries the day we were supposed to get together before it all went south. But to spend quality time together face-to-face? It hasn’t happened yet.
Last night we might have been sitting next to each other, hip to hip, in fact, but we were surrounded by a crowd of fans and her ex-husband and his boyfriend, which means we didn’t have privacy.
I can’t say I’m upset about our time talking and texting, though.
We’ve gotten to know each other pretty well that way.
I know she loves the holidays and is planning to decorate the house on November first. Her favorite food is something I didn’t expect. Meatloaf with mashed potatoes and canned green beans. It’s a meal she never had growing up and one of the first Dorothy made for her when she moved to Red Oak. She had Dorothy teach her how to make it so now she makes it once a week.
We’ve talked about what her dreams are with the diner, what life was really like growing up as a rich kid, what it was like for me growing up in Red Oak. She knows my dad asked Mom for a divorce when Boone and Brock were in high school, rocking all our worlds.
I explained how it seemed to come out of nowhere and how since then he hasn’t been a big part of our lives.
We’ve talked about Brooklyn and my family and hers. She’s interested in understanding things about Lake Electrical and how we work together as a family. It’s fascinating to her how well we all get along and I assure her we aren’t perfect and argue like any other family. We get annoyed with each other and bicker and aren’t always nice. There have been fights that last longer than they should, considering we’re stubborn and we have a hard time admitting we’re wrong. I don’t want her to get the wrong impression about us. Yes, we love each other and have a great relationship for the most part, but we’re flawed like anyone else.
One night when we were on the phone together, she broke down and admitted that after Brooklyn was born, her mom badgered her about losing weight to the point where she ended up with an eating disorder. Her mother thought she looked better than ever, but Trotter stepped in. She thinks that’s when his eyes were officially opened to understanding that their life wasn’t golden just because they had money.
When she started gaining weight back, her mom tried once again to get in her head but she was stronger and smarter, her words. It’s hard for me to imagine Hadley avoiding food because it just doesn’t match up with the woman she is now. I wonder if that’s one of the reasons why she has dived head first into the diner and baking. Maybe it helps her to continue to overcome that time in her life when she thought of food as the enemy.
With thirty minutes to kill before Hadley arrives, I take a quick shower then start the pot of water to boil for the pasta.
I’m not a great cook like my mom, but I do all right in the kitchen with a few things. One of those is macaroni and cheese. Not from a box, but with four different kinds of cheese that I shredded myself this afternoon. It’s creamy and delicious and easy to make. And because I’m super fancy, I’m going to throw some hot dogs on the grill, too. Lucky for me, according to Dorothy, macaroni and cheese with hot dogs is one of her favorites. She saw it on an episode ofFriendsonce and since she had never had it, thought she’d give it a try. If it was good enough for Monica to make for Chandler, it was good enough for her, too.
The doorbell chimes and I rush to greet Hadley.
Something about tonight feels bigger than just having her over for dinner and the expression on her face when I open the door tells me she feels the same.
“Hey, you.” I lean in and kiss her cheek, something I haven’t done since she moved to Red Oak. I’ve kissed the top of her head, given her a hug, but my lips haven’t touched her skin in sixteen years and my lips tingle in response.
“Hey,” she breathes on a sigh.
“You look beautiful. Come in.”
She’s wearing a pair of navy-blue shorts and a white long sleeve button down shirt that’s half tucked in and half out. It looks silky and soft and the way it drapes over one shoulder is sexy as hell. Her long brown hair falls down her back in big waves and her makeup is subtle. Absolutely gorgeous. She kicks off her brown sandals at the door and hands me the bag she’s carrying.
“Thank you. I brought dessert.”
