Proving Paul's Promise
Page 60
I write the check and hand her the order form. “Please let me know when it arrives?”
She nods, and I roll my suitcase out the door and down the sidewalk.
“Friday,” I hear someone say. I look up and find Henry walking out the same gate as me.
Henry is a friend of the Reeds’. He was the doorman in Emily’s building, and his wife had a stroke. Not long after he met Logan and Emily, all the Reed boys went and moved his furniture so he could bring his wife home from the rest home. She died last year, and he was left alone. He has children and grandchildren, and his granddaughter Faith is expecting his first great grandchild. Through it all, Henry never wavered. He grieved, but his faith never faltered.
“Henry,” I say. I lift my arms and hug him, because you just have to hug Henry when you see him. “What are you doing here?”
“I was just visiting my Nan,” he says. He looks at my suitcase with a curious eye. “What about you?”
“Unfinished business,” I say.
He takes the handle of my suitcase and starts to pull it down the street.
“What are you doing, Henry?” I ask. I race to catch up with him.
He looks back at me over his shoulder. “It looks like you have a good story to tell, and I just happen to love a good story.”
“But,” I sputter.
“I’m a lonely old man,” he says. “Humor me.”
“Henry,” I protest.
“I have an empty house and a lot of time.” He puts his free arm around my shoulders and pulls me close to him. “Make me happy and come have tea with me.”
“Just tea?” I ask.
“Oh, the tea is for in the morning. Tonight, we’ll have popcorn and a movie.” His eyes twinkle. “I’ll let you sit in the massage chair Faith got me for Christmas.”
I raise my brow at him.
“Oh, fine, I’ll sit in it.” He waves a hand like he’s swatting the idea away.
“Henry,” I say softly. “I can take care of myself.”
“Never doubted it,” he says sternly. “I’m a lonely old man. Come and keep me company for a day or two.”
“Are you sure?” I watch his face closely to be sure he’s one-hundred-percent certain he wants me to go with him. What stares back at me is that he does. Wholeheartedly. He wants me.
“I want to hear everything,” he says. “I adore a good love story.”
I snort. “What about a bad love story?”
He looks sad all of a sudden. “There’s no such thing,” he says. Then he grins. “I’ll let you pick the movie.”
I go with Henry, because there’s really no place I’d rather be right now.
Suddenly he turns to me and says, “Do I need to go and bash Paul’s head in? He didn’t do anything stupid, did he?”
I laugh. “No. I just needed some time.”
“Time is the only thing we can’t grow more of,” he says, his gaze wistful. “Just keep that in mind.”
I will. I really, really will.
Paul
It’s the middle of the night, and I can’t sleep. Friday has been gone for five days. Sure, I know where she is. Henry called me. But he also warned me that he would bash my head in with a baseball bat if I dared to even knock on his door. He’s a sweet old man, but I think he was serious.
I know Friday has talked to Emily and Reagan, and she had lunch with Matt one day this week. But none of them would tell me what happened or what was said. They’re all f**king traitors in my book.
Friday hasn’t even been to work all week. I have no idea what she’s doing, but she’s not talking to me, that’s for damn sure. I deserve it. I know I do. I should have talked to her instead of taking the choice out of her hands. She’s a f**king adult. I should have waited for her to say she was ready. She had opened up to me about her kid and my f**king heart soared and I knew she had a problem. I thought I could solve it. But I should have let her do it herself. She has every right to be mad. I just hope she settles it soon because I miss her like crazy.
Not having her in my shop every day makes me feel like somebody has stolen my heart right out of chest. She’s not flitting around, charming people, or drawing anything beautiful that makes my customers smile.
She’s just gone.
I pull out my phone and text her really quickly.
Me: Hayley has a recital tomorrow. She wants to know if you’re coming.
I wait with my fingers poised over the phone.
Nothing. I get nothing.
I lay it down on the bed and pound my fist into my pillow, jamming it into a ball beneath my head.
Suddenly, my phone dings, and I reach for it like I’m an addict reaching for a fix.
Her: Don’t use Hayley as collateral.
Me: I’ll use anything I can.
Quiet. No response.
Me: Please forgive me. Come back home.
Her: I don’t think that’s a good idea.
Me: I think it’s the best idea I’ve ever had.
Her: What time is her recital?
Yes! Thank God!
Me: Seven. Will you come?
Her: I’ll come. But only because Hayley asked me to.
I take a deep breath because I suddenly can. I feel like the belt that was wrapped around my chest just loosened.
Me: I’ll take you however I can get you.
She doesn’t send more messages and my eyelids are getting heavy, so I send one last message.
Me: I’ve been taking care of people my whole life. My job was to solve everyone’s problems and make sure that everything was okay. You weren’t my responsibility, and I should have realized that. I want you to be my equal, not someone I have to take care of. I promise not to do that again. And when I make a promise, I mean it. I’ll talk to you and listen when you talk. I won’t always do what you want. But I’ll try not to steamroll you again.
She nods, and I roll my suitcase out the door and down the sidewalk.
“Friday,” I hear someone say. I look up and find Henry walking out the same gate as me.
Henry is a friend of the Reeds’. He was the doorman in Emily’s building, and his wife had a stroke. Not long after he met Logan and Emily, all the Reed boys went and moved his furniture so he could bring his wife home from the rest home. She died last year, and he was left alone. He has children and grandchildren, and his granddaughter Faith is expecting his first great grandchild. Through it all, Henry never wavered. He grieved, but his faith never faltered.
“Henry,” I say. I lift my arms and hug him, because you just have to hug Henry when you see him. “What are you doing here?”
“I was just visiting my Nan,” he says. He looks at my suitcase with a curious eye. “What about you?”
“Unfinished business,” I say.
He takes the handle of my suitcase and starts to pull it down the street.
“What are you doing, Henry?” I ask. I race to catch up with him.
He looks back at me over his shoulder. “It looks like you have a good story to tell, and I just happen to love a good story.”
“But,” I sputter.
“I’m a lonely old man,” he says. “Humor me.”
“Henry,” I protest.
“I have an empty house and a lot of time.” He puts his free arm around my shoulders and pulls me close to him. “Make me happy and come have tea with me.”
“Just tea?” I ask.
“Oh, the tea is for in the morning. Tonight, we’ll have popcorn and a movie.” His eyes twinkle. “I’ll let you sit in the massage chair Faith got me for Christmas.”
I raise my brow at him.
“Oh, fine, I’ll sit in it.” He waves a hand like he’s swatting the idea away.
“Henry,” I say softly. “I can take care of myself.”
“Never doubted it,” he says sternly. “I’m a lonely old man. Come and keep me company for a day or two.”
“Are you sure?” I watch his face closely to be sure he’s one-hundred-percent certain he wants me to go with him. What stares back at me is that he does. Wholeheartedly. He wants me.
“I want to hear everything,” he says. “I adore a good love story.”
I snort. “What about a bad love story?”
He looks sad all of a sudden. “There’s no such thing,” he says. Then he grins. “I’ll let you pick the movie.”
I go with Henry, because there’s really no place I’d rather be right now.
Suddenly he turns to me and says, “Do I need to go and bash Paul’s head in? He didn’t do anything stupid, did he?”
I laugh. “No. I just needed some time.”
“Time is the only thing we can’t grow more of,” he says, his gaze wistful. “Just keep that in mind.”
I will. I really, really will.
Paul
It’s the middle of the night, and I can’t sleep. Friday has been gone for five days. Sure, I know where she is. Henry called me. But he also warned me that he would bash my head in with a baseball bat if I dared to even knock on his door. He’s a sweet old man, but I think he was serious.
I know Friday has talked to Emily and Reagan, and she had lunch with Matt one day this week. But none of them would tell me what happened or what was said. They’re all f**king traitors in my book.
Friday hasn’t even been to work all week. I have no idea what she’s doing, but she’s not talking to me, that’s for damn sure. I deserve it. I know I do. I should have talked to her instead of taking the choice out of her hands. She’s a f**king adult. I should have waited for her to say she was ready. She had opened up to me about her kid and my f**king heart soared and I knew she had a problem. I thought I could solve it. But I should have let her do it herself. She has every right to be mad. I just hope she settles it soon because I miss her like crazy.
Not having her in my shop every day makes me feel like somebody has stolen my heart right out of chest. She’s not flitting around, charming people, or drawing anything beautiful that makes my customers smile.
She’s just gone.
I pull out my phone and text her really quickly.
Me: Hayley has a recital tomorrow. She wants to know if you’re coming.
I wait with my fingers poised over the phone.
Nothing. I get nothing.
I lay it down on the bed and pound my fist into my pillow, jamming it into a ball beneath my head.
Suddenly, my phone dings, and I reach for it like I’m an addict reaching for a fix.
Her: Don’t use Hayley as collateral.
Me: I’ll use anything I can.
Quiet. No response.
Me: Please forgive me. Come back home.
Her: I don’t think that’s a good idea.
Me: I think it’s the best idea I’ve ever had.
Her: What time is her recital?
Yes! Thank God!
Me: Seven. Will you come?
Her: I’ll come. But only because Hayley asked me to.
I take a deep breath because I suddenly can. I feel like the belt that was wrapped around my chest just loosened.
Me: I’ll take you however I can get you.
She doesn’t send more messages and my eyelids are getting heavy, so I send one last message.
Me: I’ve been taking care of people my whole life. My job was to solve everyone’s problems and make sure that everything was okay. You weren’t my responsibility, and I should have realized that. I want you to be my equal, not someone I have to take care of. I promise not to do that again. And when I make a promise, I mean it. I’ll talk to you and listen when you talk. I won’t always do what you want. But I’ll try not to steamroll you again.
