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My siblings had all gotten married relatively young and were still going strong in their relationships. My brother Holden had married right out of college, currently owned three restaurants, and his wife stayed home with their three kids. Jillian got married while in college, then had her twins after her career was established. Her husband, Will, stayed home with the kids while she worked as a social worker. Then there was me and my younger brother Harrison—perpetually single. Harrison decided to be a drifter of sorts—traveling everywhere he could, on the least amount of money he could. He’s managed to backpack across Europe, twice, on less than $50 a day, which still baffled me. And then there was me, although I preferred my carefree life in Portland, working with people, and creating whatever came to my mind.
But considering my sister often asks if I had met anyone—if I had come any closer to “settling” down—one day I let it slip that I had. Her scream was louder than I expected, and the story kind of spiraled from there. Every now and then I would say I was going out with Daxton, or enjoying a night in with him, but I never sent any other information other than that.
And apparently it showed in my short-term memory because I had to think about whohewas.
“You’re still with Dax, right?” Jillian asked.
“Oh, yeah, we were out just the other night actually. He hasn't seen the painting yet.”
“Why not?” she asked, a sternness to her voice I had thought was only reserved for his kids.
“We um . . .”We what!? Come on Jamie, keep it together.“We normally met up at his house. You know my one bedroom is a little too crowded for two.”
“Right with all the easels and pottery wheels,” she scoffed. “You should bring him . . .” Her thought was quiet at first, but then as if she had heard exactly what she had said, she gasped out loud. “Oh my hell, Jamie, bring Daxton! You’ve been together long enough now, I’d love to actually meet the man, and I’m sure mom and dad would be just as excited to have him.”
My eyes went wide. Bring a man, who didn’t exist, to a family function that lasted three weeks.Sure . . .
“I mean I’d love it if he could come, but he may not be able to take three weeks off from work, and it’s kind of late notice . . .”
“Have you seriously not told him you’re going to be away for three weeks?”
“No . . . no . . .” I pulled into my parking spot and shifted the car in park, my hand instantly rubbing my forehead, trying to force lie out. “He knows.”
“Even if he can come for a week, you know we have a couple nights planned. You wouldn’t have to ‘date’ Harrison to get the discount.”
Okay . . . I did love couples night. The four siblings and their spouses, using up the Park City two-for-one on a meal. Harrison and I always pretended to be the third couple to get the discount.
“I’ll talk to him, but don't get your hopes up.”
“Oh, I’ll get my hopes up. I need to meet the man who captured your attention at a wedding.” Jillian’s voice was sweet, I could hear her smile. “Speaking of hopes, how have you been feeling? You had your annual checkup right?”
I rolled my eyes. Not only did my sister and mother think they could weasel their way into my romantic life, they also constantly asked about my health.
“Yes, Jilly. I’m still fit as a fiddle—that's the term, right?”
Jillian laughed. “Yes Jamie, I’m pretty sure that's the saying. I’m happy to hear that, you know we always—”
“I know, I know. And before you ask, I updated mom already.”
Jillian let out a sigh of relief. “Perfect, I know she’ll be asking when she sees you. Okay, so . . . back to plans . . . you’ll be driving . . .”
She began to talk my ear off faster now that the conversation wasn’t focused on my health, or me and my imaginary boyfriend. I had three weeks to find a boyfriend, or come up with an excuse as to why he wasn’t able to come. Because—you know—those things were a lot easier thanactuallytelling the truth.
As soon as Jillian and I finalized our travel plans with each other I plopped on my sofa. My apartment was small, with plants galore, and art supplies occupying every single corner. I loved my little space. Even though it was on the first floor, natural light still found its way in through the windows. Every single picture that hung on the wall was painted by me, making it so the apartment literally screamed,“Jamie Gaines Lives Here!”.
I closed my eyes and rested my head on the back of the couch, trying to picture who Daxton was in real life. What would he look like if I had found someone to at leastpretendto be him? What would we do when we were together? What would his job be? What would his kiss be like?
Elliot . . .
Snapping my eyes open I pushed myself off the couch and into my kitchen. I hated to admit that Elliot Whittaker had entered my mind more often than I would like, and it always went back to that kiss. I could still feel that kiss on my lips. He had texted a few times, but fear crept in, and I went out of my way to ignore them—not even opening the messages. I was so scared . . . nervous . . . ashamed, maybe, that I even went as far as to check the Piano Bar’slisting before making any plans. I didn’t want to put Elliot on a pedestal he didn’t belong on. I didn’t know him enough to trust that. Elliot Whittaker was not the kind of man I saw myself with. He may have been different than I expected that night, but I simply couldn’t get involved with some who had—what did I call them, Mic Bunnies coming up to him every night.
But he turned them away . . . remember?
I shook my head, trying to keep myself away from that train of thought and focus on the new problem at hand.
Daxton.
Pulling out my box of Kraft Mac ‘N’ Cheese, I grabbed my phone and downloaded a dating app. Maybe, just maybe, I would find Daxton there and get Elliot out of my head once and for all.
