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Smiling as I watch the little dancing dots telling me she is preparing her response, I find myself growing anxious. Looking forward to chatting with someone who shares some of my interests. As I wait for her message, I read through her bio a few more times, finding more and more to like about her. Her taste in music, her cute little quips and quotes, and all the lovely photos she posts of scenery shots to go with it all.
Her: I am an only child, I like seafood, but sushi makes me sick, and I am not where I want to be in life, but I will get there.
Tapping out a long message about feeling the same way, and adding a few things about myself, I push away from my desk. It has been a damn long time since I wanted to talk to someone. Not just a woman I might take out, but anyone really. Taking on the weight of running the dealerships and looking after my family took a toll on me.
Connor is the only person I can talk to, and he has little time for small talk. Between his NFL seasons, being a doting father and devoted husband, he has little time for himself let alone me or my problems. Problems that I caused myself and never had the balls to fix. Sending that message feels like a mistake already—because what am I doing talking to some stranger?
All I can think of is Paisley. How I wish I could talk to her. Even before we dated, she was the person I talked to the most. My best friend. The only person in the world that knows me, knows all the things about me I could never share with my football buddies or anyone else. I would give anything to talk to her again and fix what I did to us.
That ship has sailed, and I pushed it from port. I told her what we had was not worth the effort to make it last. What we had was worth everything. I threw it away and now I have to live with that. I just wish I could tell her how sorry I am. How much hurting her wrecked me. There is no excuse for me to have let this regret linger for so many years.
“Hails,” my voice sounds desperate because I am, “I need to see her. Just to talk to her. I need to tell her...tell her how sorry I am and how much I regret it. I need her to at least listen to me.”
On my way out towards their place, I call up Hailee, knowing she wants me to fix this. Because of me, Pais has stayed away for so long and it’s not fair to her or the kids. I need to make amends. Even if I can never be with her because I lost that chance, I need to make things right between us. As right as they can get.
How right can things get for us when I will always want her?
“Well, you know where I live, honey,” she calls back as if challenging me.
Well, today I am taking that challenge. I want to talk to Paisley. I need to see her and do whatever I can to make up for my mistakes. To clear the air between us a little. Tell her she should never have stayed away because of me, and I don’t want her to do it ever again. I miss her. Might be selfish of me to tell her that, but I can’t keep pretending otherwise.
“How about I bring dinner? Pizza from your favorite,” I tease her, laughing when I hear her enthused sound.
“Yes! That sounds amazing! Extra pineapple on mine please! Extra mushrooms on Paisley’s.”
No need for her to remind me of what my girl likes on her pizza. During college we all hung out at a local pizza joint, and I swear the girls survived off of pizza and Slurpee's alone. Paisley loves mushrooms and sausage on hers, heavy on the mushrooms. I can recall in great detail how she would eat the top layer of mushrooms off first before taking her first bite.
Just thinking of all the nights we spent at that pizza joint, or out driving around listening to music and talking, or holed up in my dad’s cabin has me wistful. I loved her so deeply but I always knew it was not enough for her. Not when she had such big dreams—dreams I wanted her to fulfill. I hated knowing I didn’t have the guts to chase after my own dreams.
While I was never good enough at football to go pro, I once had dreams of continuing in football somehow. Either as a coach or a trainer. Connor gave me a shot to come with him when he got drafted, but I turned him down. Told him I belonged here in Harmony Hollow, taking care of the family business.
Truth is—I was terrified of failing at another thing I loved.
Now I just don’t want to fail Paisley again. Whatever she is going through that brought her home cannot be easy. If I can make it better by swallowing my pride and groveling a little, I will do that. Anything to make her being here easier for her.
Stopping at the pizza joint, I order four large pizzas and wait while I go through emails. Noticing a new message I never responded to, I start to delete it. Last thing I need right now is another distraction. And it somehow feels wrong talking to someone else when all I want to do is talk to Paisley.
Just thinking of her talking to someone else like this irritates me. Makes my chest tight and my pulse drum. But I don’t have a right to feel that way. I doubt she would care who I was talking to either. And talking to someone today did feel nice. I heave a sigh and open the app, deciding I have nothing to lose.
Her: We will get where we need to be when we’re meant to, right? Right now, I am the last place I expected but I will make the most of it. That is all we can do.
Reading over the message, I can’t ignore the prickle of heat at the back of my neck. The zip of awareness up my spine. Something feels...familiar. Lifting my gaze, I search the small pizza place. Just me and a little family of four, no one I know. Frowning at the message, I start to type out a response that I erase a few times, trying to get it right.
Me: Well, we can hope. Sometimes we make a wrong choice or two that we want back, but we can’t dwell on that. Where do you want to be right now?
Thanking the clerk behind the counter when they pass me the pizzas, I head out. I am anxious about just showing up out there, but Hailee would have told me not to come if she thought it was a bad idea. Sitting in my truck with the sweet scent of pineapple and the spicy sausage on Paisley’s mushroom pizza, I glance at my phone again. I want her to reply. I am waiting to see what she says, and I can’t figure out why.
Her: Thought I would be a famous artist by now. At least working at a gallery. Life imitates art though because my art was messy and now so is my life.
Her: Oh no that was too much, let me shut up.
Her: It seems easier to talk to you than I expected. Maybe because you are a stranger, so I can say what I want.
Except, I am not a stranger at all, am I? And that is why it has been so easy for us to talk back and forth all day. We never had a moment of unease from the first message, and I doubt we will. Not just because she likes British comedies and hates sushi as much as I do. No—just because there is one person in the world I talk to so freely.
Paisley Story.
Without a doubt, I sense I am talking to the girl I let get away. On a dating app. The idea of her seeking someone else while she is here in town enrages me. I punch the gas and race to The Pillars, more determined than ever to talk to her. And to set her straight.
