Marcie and I have stayed up countless nights talking about things like this. About our lives, our past, our hopes and dreams. And while I’ve never really told her about what happened to me, I’m sure she can piece together enough to get a decent picture.
To hear her tell me she’s shocked that I’ve made this move with Nate hurts my heart. I want her to be happy for me. And I’m sure she is, in a way, but why is she acting like this is a bad decision?
Kinsley sits up and eyes me carefully. “Paige is really happy. I think this is a good call.”
Marcie takes a bite of the chip. “I’m not saying it’s not. I’m just saying that it’s hard to see her go from a girl who maybe dates a guy for six weeks tops to playing stepmom to a little boy. Maybe if I was here to see it all go down, I’d feel differently. But just stepping in now at the end … I just want to make sure she’s not living in la-la land before it’s too late.”
“This isn’t la-la land,” I fire back.
She leans forward until her chest is pressed against the table. “I love you, Paige. But I know what it feels like to be in a honeymoon phase in a relationship … or a gambling addiction.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s fun at first. The world is your oyster. You can forget all the consequences that are coming because it feels so good at the moment. All the boundaries you’ve set up, your ability to reason and use logic—it all goes out the door. And then one day you wake up, and the honeymoon is over … and you owe someone a lot of money. Proverbially, of course.”
I level my gaze with Marcie. “You know what? You’re coming across really shitty right now, and I don’t appreciate it. Our situations are vastly different.”
“I didn’t mean to be shitty, Paige. I’m sorry.”
“I would hope not, considering how kind I’ve been to you.”
“So where are you staying now?” Kinsley asks Marcie, not wanting to see fireworks.
I tune out their back and forth, not caring at the moment where Marcie is staying. Her words ring through my mind.
I’m still using logic. I’m able to reason. Nate and I have communicated, and he understands my need to take things slow, just like I understood his need to protect Ryder.
“You have to stay here forever because I love you, Paige Stage.”
My heart swells in my chest, and I look at Marcie.
She might’ve gotten in too deep with the wrong people, but I did not. I might be falling hard for a man and a little boy who already mean so much to me, but that’s exactly where I’m supposed to be.
I know it. I feel it in my soul.
My phone dings, and I look down. “Hey, I need to take this, okay?”
Marcie and Kinsley continue their conversation as I scooch off my seat and walk outside.
The air is warm and filled with the scent of cinnamon from Judy’s bakery a few doors down. I should really get a donut.
Instead of comforting myself with a pastry, I open my text app.
Banks: Heard you have a boyfriend.
I grin. Just the distraction I needed.
Me: Mom has a big mouth.
Banks: I think she wants me to get the scoop—the real one. The one you won’t tell her.
Me: Oh, you mean that he’s a felon for murdering two women in the Pacific Northwest with a machete and that he kept their heads in a freezer?
Banks: Oddly specific.
Me: We’re great at communicating.
Banks: You know, first impressions are a real thing. And this is his first impression. Text wisely.
I can’t help but laugh.
Me: Fine. He’s great. Very handsome. Owns his own business and works part-time for a security company. He chased a guy off from the bar the other night that was flirting with me and he went after Atticus a couple of months ago.
Banks: For what?
Me: Let’s leave it there.
Banks: Let’s not.
Me: You’re losing sight of the conversation.
My fingers tap against the side of the phone. Bringing up Atticus could go either way, but Banks didn’t like the sound of him from the start … mostly because Atticus answered my phone and that conversation didn’t go well.
Banks: Is he nice to you?
Me: Very.
Banks: Is he willing to meet Mom and Dad?
Me: He’s looking forward to it. He’ll probably cook them dinner.
Note to self: inform Nate of his need to possibly cook my parents dinner.
Banks: What’s his last name?
Me: Hughes. Why?
Banks: No reason. Let him know your brother is one bad motherfucker, and I will kill him and drink his blood from his skull if he missteps. And I don’t give second chances.
Me: I’ll tell him that verbatim. *winking emoji*
Banks: Love you, little sister.