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Paige didn’t answer my call last night after she left the country club, and she didn’t answer my text this morning. She’s either lost her phone or she’s ignoring me. When I still haven’t heard from her by five, I take matters into my own hands. I order two lobster tails from the kitchen and drive over to her house.
Her car is in the driveway so I’m a little perplexed when she doesn’t answer the door. After ringing the bell three times, I resort to calling her. When she doesn’t answer my call, I finally text her that if she doesn’t open the door immediately, I’m going to call the fire department to break it down. I’m not sure that’s really a thing, but it does the trick.
Moments later, Paige flings the door open and demands, “What is your problem?”
Walking inside, I tell her, “I was getting worried about you.”
“Why?”
“Because you weren’t answering my texts and calls. You could have been dead for all I knew.”
“Tim.” She sounds every ounce like a teacher about to rip astudent a new one. “I am not required to answer your texts and calls.”
Walking into her living room, I put down the bags of food I brought. “We’re friends. Don’t friends talk?”
“I left the club late last night and I worked today. I haven’t had a chance to call you back.”
“You left the club at eight,” I remind her. Which is early, not late.
“I go to bed at eight thirty.”
Instead of picking a fight, I tell her, “I brought lobster tail, roasted asparagus, and crème brûlée. I don’t suppose you can rustle up a couple of beers?” I already know Paige’s love language is food, but it’s still amusing how quickly she hustles off to the kitchen.
By the time she comes back, I’m sitting on one of her loveseats and pulling out to-go containers. Handing me a beer and silverware, she begrudgingly says, “It was nice of you to bring supper.”
“You’re welcome.”
She sits down next to me. “Why did you really come?”
“I didn’t get a chance to talk to you last night, and I wondered how your date went.”
“I’m not surprised you didn’t notice for yourself …” she mutters.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you were so engrossed in Cami, you barely looked up.”Is she jealous?
“Cami’s great,” I tell her. Too bad she’s not interested in dating me. “How did it go with Fielden?” I do my best to keep the loathing out of my voice.
“It was nice. He’s wonderful, actually.”There’s no way she can mean that.
Handing her a foil pan of lobster with drawn butter, I ask, “Are you going to see him again?”
“Of course. Are you going to see Cami?”
While taking my first bite, I try to decide if I’m going to perpetuate the hoax Cami and I are playing on people or if I’m going to tell Paige the truth. My gut says to come clean, but I don’t want her to feel sorry for me. I already feel like such a loser because of Eva.
I finally tell her, “Definitely. Thank you for encouraging me to give this show a real chance.”
Paige pushes her food away and then takes a giant swig of beer. “So glad I could help.”
“Why are you in such a bad mood?” I ask her.
“I’m not in a bad mood.”Liar.
Maybe she’s hangry. “Okay …” I nudge her lobster closer to her, and she starts to eat again.
When she’s done with her food, she starts eyeing mine. “Please help me finish,” I tell her. “I had a big lunch, and I don’t have any room left.”
