“How long has it been since you last saw your mom?”
I rubbed a hand over the back of my neck. “I’m honestly not sure. I’m sure I saw her at some court dates, but I have no memories of it. So as far as I’m concerned, I haven’t seen her since the last time I was taken away from her.”
“How old were you?”
“Nine.”
“Nine?” Taylor’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head again. “You haven’t talked to her since you were nine, and then she called you out of the blue today?”
“She called for a couple birthdays here and there, but I haven’t heard from her in, God, since high school. Melissa told me she was trying to get in touch with me, though, so the call wasn’t a total surprise.”
“Jesus. I’m… I don’t even know what to say that won’t sound like an empty platitude, but I’m so sorry you went through all that.”
“It is what it is. It made me who I am, and I like who I am, so there’s that,” I said, offering her a small smile.
Taylor opened her mouth to speak, but we were interrupted by a young guy—probably early twenties—bringing out our food.
“Turkey club?”
“That’s mine,” Taylor said.
The guy placed it in front of her and then put my dinner in front of me.
“Can I get you anything else?”
“I don’t think—” I started but was interrupted by a yell from the kitchen.
“Damn it, Rudy, what did I tell you about taking over my tables? Trying to steal my tips is what you’re doing. I’m onto you. What, do you think I’m blind?”
The guy—Rudy—closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “No, Grandma, I don’t think you’re blind,” he said without turning around. “I know it,” he added under his breath. When he opened his eyes again, he looked between Taylor and me. “Sorry. I have to take her food out or else her customers will be wearing it. You all good here?”
Taylor opened her mouth, and a giggle escaped. She cleared her throat and said, “Yeah, we’re good.”
“Great.”
“Rudy!”
“Give me strength. Coming, Grandma.” And then he turned on his heel and hurried toward the kitchen.
Taylor and I looked at each other for a second before dissolving in laughter.
“I swear, I’m coming here every week,” she said.
“I told you you’d love it. Never doubt my taste in diners. And you better not come without me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied, her tone more serious than it had been.
I gave her another small smile. “Good.”
We fell into companionable silence as we started eating our meals. But after we’d taken a couple of bites, she spoke again.
“Ransom?”
I looked up at her and waited for her to continue.
“I like who you are too.”
As we sat in the Greasy Spoon with a blind grandmother named Helen reaming out her grandson Rudy amid the aging I and heart-clogging portions, Taylor and I had a moment. And it was utterly perfect in its imperfection.
“I’m glad to hear it.”
Chapter Thirteen
R A N S O M
“What kind of tuxes do you think would be best?”
The question came from Brody, who looked deep in thought as he held his beer between both hands and rolled it back and forth slowly. Drew and I exchanged glances across the pool table. We were used to Brody saying random shit, but this question had come out of the blue even for him.
I raised an eyebrow. “Are you…like…taking someone to prom? Did I miss something?”
Brody jolted out of whatever trance he’d been in and jerked his head back. “Gross, man. I’m in my mid-twenties. I’m not taking someone to a high school dance.”
“Well, what the fuck are we talking about, then?” Drew asked.
“The wedding,” Brody replied as if the question were a stupid one. “Your wedding…to my sister.”
Drew and Sophia never really talked about being engaged, so I almost forgot about it.
“I don’t know what tux would be best,” Drew said. “We just started talking about dates. I think Sophia has a few places she wants to check out, but beyond that, we haven’t given it a whole lot of thought. We’ve got time.”
Drew appeared completely relaxed about the planning, while Brody seemed flustered.
“That’s what you think,” he said as he ran an anxious hand through his hair. “One second you’re buying a ring and proposing, but before you know it, you’re promising to spend your entire life with one woman in front of everyone you love.”
I wasn’t sure what exactly this was about, but I had a feeling it didn’t have much to do with Drew and Sophia’s engagement.
Drew laughed and shook his head before refilling his glass from the pitcher that was sitting on a nearby high top. “And you’re an expert on this because you let your mom plan a fake wedding for you and someone you barely knew?”
Brody smirked. “Yes. And you don’t know the stress involved in having your parents think you’re married when you’re not, and then planning a wedding to the person they think you married, all so they don’t have to tell your extended family you eloped, which you didn’t even do.”
Drew stared blankly at him. “Yeah, I’m thinking I’m not gonna take your advice on this one.” Then he turned back to the pool table, lined up his shot, and missed the cue ball entirely. “That’s your fault,” Drew joked, pointing his stick at Brody. “Now you have me distracted, like I should be doing something more than just looking at pictures of places Sophia finds and saying whether I like them or not. You think I should start a wedding board on Pinterest?”
I couldn’t tell whether he was serious, but either way, his comment had me laughing. “Make sure you don’t pin any black tuxes. Dark colors make Brody look paler than he already is.”
“Asshole,” Brody said with a smirk. “But yeah, a light gray would be good. I mean, if you want.”
Drew went up to the bar a few minutes later to get our pitcher refilled, and I couldn’t help but ask. “What’s with all the wedding questions?”
Brody shrugged but didn’t say anything.
“This isn’t about Drew’s wedding, is it?” I’d had a hunch something was up, but I couldn’t put my finger on it until I remembered Aamee was coming home this weekend.
“Of course it is. Who else is getting married?”
“You?”
Brody did his best to look surprised, like my comment was completely unwarranted, but he was shit at acting, despite the fact that he was always getting into situations that required him to do so.
“Uh, not me,” he said.
“You get her a ring yet?”
Brody’s sigh told me he’d given up his attempt at pretending this wasn’t about him. “No. I’m not sure whether I want to, but I just miss her so damn much.” His mouth twisted a bit after he said it, like hearing the words come out surprised even him. “God, that’s so embarrassing.”
“It’s not.”
“Uh, it definitely is embarrassing. I’m just feeling the distance, I guess. We both are. But that doesn’t mean we’re ready to get married. We’re still so young, and we don’t even have real careers. I’m helping run a part of a bar until we’re ready to move on to something bigger, and Aamee’s working with her mom, who I know she hates even though she won’t admit it.”
“Why do those things matter? You’re talking about love, not opening up a 403B.”
“Yeah, but marriage is forever.” He looked up at me. “Or it’s supposed to be. Sorry, man, but I’m sure you know better than anyone that marriage isn’t as easy as everyone says it is.”
“Do people say it’s easy?” I tried to keep my words lighthearted when my chest felt like it was being stripped of all oxygen. Nothing about that time in my life was easy.
He seemed to ponder my question for longer than necessary before finally saying, “No, I guess they don�
�t. So what’s the story with you and your…?”
“Emily.”
“Your Emily,” Brody said.
I knew his question was an innocent one, mainly to make conversation more than to probe me for details that would help him figure out his own shit. Which was good because nothing in my past could help anyone. All it could do was hurt.
“Not much of a story there,” I said, trying my best to sound casual. “We were best friends who got married young.”
I hoped that was enough to explain it and was relieved when I saw Drew approach with another pitcher of beer.
“Sorry it took so long. I miss anything?”
Brody held out his glass for Drew to fill. “Ransom was just about to tell us about his ex. They were like fourteen when they got married.”
“That’s like some Romeo and Juliet shit right there. Weren’t they around that age too?” Drew asked.
“We weren’t fourteen,” I said, even though I figured Drew had enough sense to know that couldn’t possibly be true.
“Okay, then how young is young?”
“Nineteen,” I answered, already regretting sharing anything at all about the situation.
“Fourteen? Nineteen? What’s the difference?” Brody joked.
“Five years.”
Brody laughed as he brought his glass up to his mouth, and I wondered how long I was going to have to figure out how to avoid talking about a subject I tried not to even think about.
“Well, maybe the marriage didn’t work out,” he said, gripping my shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “But at least both of you didn’t end up dying.”
“Right,” I managed to squeak out. Not both of us.
T A Y L O R
I exited the Treehouse feeling like I was finally starting to get ahead. Now that I was able to handle more tables on my own, I’d been getting pretty good tips, even on weeknights, which was great because I usually didn’t get scheduled for both weekend nights. That, combined with the money I made from Safe Haven, meant hopefully soon I could stop feeling like I was squatting in some abandoned apartment.
Over the last month or so, I’d been slowly outfitting the place, but I still needed some of the more expensive stuff. It might be a while until I could invest in furniture, but at least the steady money meant I could pay off some of my credit card. I’d put more than I would’ve liked to on there for essentials once my dad had stopped paying for anything other than my classes.
I was just getting ready to get into my car when my phone rang. I smiled when I saw Ransom’s name on the screen.
“Hey,” I said, pulling my car door open and tossing my bag onto my passenger’s seat.
“Hey.”
“What’s up?”
“Nothing, really.”
I waited for a few seconds before I said, “Um, you called me.”
“Right, yeah, sorry. I was just out with Brody and Drew, but I got tired of beating them in pool, so I left.”
“Sounds like a rough night.”
“What are you doing right now?” he asked.
“Well, right now I’m sitting in my car in the Treehouse parking lot talking to you.”
I heard him laugh softly. “Fair enough. What are you about to do?”
“I have big plans that involve returning my mom’s three calls from earlier today, at least four episodes of Schitt’s Creek, and my pajamas. Though not necessarily in that order. I live an exciting life.”
“Well, is there any chance you want some company living your exciting life? Because clearly mine’s so exciting that I’m begging someone who’s just waited tables for most of the day and will most likely fall asleep watching a show I’ve never seen to entertain me.”
It was amazing how well Ransom knew me. There was a chance I wouldn’t even make it more than one episode. “First of all, we need to rectify the never seen Schitt’s Creek problem.”
“Is it really a problem?” he asked before I got a chance to bring up my second point.
“Yes. A big one. I’ve seen all six seasons twice and a few of my favorite episodes more than that. It gets funnier every time.”
“It actually sounds like you’re the one with the problem.”
“Shut up,” I said, laughing. “And second of all, it didn’t sound like you were ‘begging’ for me to hang out with you, so I feel like I’m missing out. What does a begging Ransom Holt sound like?”
“I’m not even sure I know what he sounds like.”
“Well, then I guess it’ll just be me and the Roses tonight.” I sighed dramatically.
“Am I supposed to know what that means?”
“It means I’ll be watching Netflix alone in a pair of teal pajamas with cats all over them unless you beg me to do otherwise.” He didn’t say anything, and I wondered whether he was rethinking his decision to be my friend. “Also, the cats have these creepy eyes that almost seem like they’re following you when you look at—”
“Taylor Peterson, please let me binge-watch some comedy with you because I need a good laugh, and if that doesn’t do it, I’m sure your cat outfit will.” He said it in one breath, and I tried my hardest not to laugh.
“It’s not a cat outfit,” I said, trying to sound disgruntled but likely failing miserably because I was too excited at the prospect of seeing Ransom. Damn it.
Chapter Fourteen
T A Y L O R
It felt weird to have Ransom on his way over because even though we hung out as a group and worked together, we hadn’t really spent any time with just each other. It made me wonder if this was a good idea, especially considering the fact that I’d been trying to shake Brad for months and had obviously failed. Getting involved with someone else would only complicate things.
But then there was the small problem of how much I liked Ransom. I couldn’t shake that either. I’d tried. And it wasn’t just that his body looked like it’d been sculpted by Michelangelo—chiseled and large and hard—God, I need to stop thinking about how gorgeous he is.
Except he was so much more than his looks. He’d been through hell but still held a sense of optimism that was inspiring.
I looked forward to going to Safe Haven for more than just the chance to make a difference in the kids’ lives. It was a chance to see Ransom, a chance to talk to Ransom. And he’d opened up to me about his past, which had been more than unexpected—not only what he’d been through but also that he’d been comfortable enough to share it with me.
And now he was on his way over to see me in my cat jammies and watch episodes of a show he had no idea if he’d like. What did I get myself into? At least I had a few minutes before he arrived since he’d said he was going to head home to change into comfortable clothes too before he came over.
I was just stepping out of the shower when I heard my phone ring. Expecting it to be Ransom, I ran over to the mattress that was my bed, where I’d tossed my phone before heading into the bathroom.
“Hey,” I said, pressing the phone between my shoulder and ear.
“Hey, TayTay.” The high-pitched voice was definitely not Ransom. I was so thrown off, it took me a second to realize it was my mom. Like when you picked a glass up off the counter expecting it to be full, but it wasn’t so your arm flew up into the air. If Ransom was chocolate milk, my mom was sour lemonade—an acquired taste that, well, I hadn’t quite acquired yet.
“Oh, hey, Mom,” I said, trying my best to sound more excited than I felt. I loved my mom and I knew she loved me, so I felt bad that I had no real desire to speak to her most of the time.
“Are you having trouble with your phone?”
“No.”
She was probably asking because I never answered and often silenced her calls, causing it to go to voicemail after only a ring or two.
“Huh.” She didn’t sound convinced. “Because I can get you a new one or pay for unlimited data if that’s the problem. I completely sympathize with your situation, having to pay for your own food and housing. At your age, that mus
t be practically unbearable.”
“I’m getting by.” I looked around at my bedroom, which still only consisted of a foam mattress and a side table I’d gotten from IKEA. I’d barely even managed to put the thing together.
“Well,” she scoffed, “I don’t like the idea of my daughter ‘getting by.’ You should have money to go out with your friends or treat yourself to a mani-pedi from time to time.”
“It’s honestly okay,” I told her. “I’m adjusting to all of it.” I put my mom on speaker so I could look through the piles of folded clothes I’d put on a bedsheet on my floor. It wasn’t quite a dresser, but it would do for my T-shirts, workout clothing, and pajamas since my closet was only big enough to fit my work essentials and other pieces that would get wrinkled easily.
“But you’re young. You should be going on adventures and enjoying life. Speaking of, did I tell you I’m riding a kangaroo in a few days?”
“You did not tell me that, no.” I pulled on some underwear and the teal cat tank top that I was just realizing was more worn than I remembered. Ransom would be here any minute, and I didn’t want to disappoint him by wearing something other than my PJs with creepy cats all over them. So I found the matching pants and put those on too.
“Are you sure? Because I feel like I mentioned it.”
“Nope. I’d definitely remember you telling me about your impending death.”
She laughed like I was the one who sounded ridiculous. “Oh, stop. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
“Right,” I said dryly. “Because you’re going to die, so you won’t get to do it again.”
“Nonsense. Joe told me about this wildlife sanctuary not too far from here. It’s very expensive, but it’s a whole experience. They let you pet the roos before you ride one.”
Did she just say roos? “Aren’t kangaroos known for being aggressive?”
“Well, I’m sure they’re heavily sedated, honey. There’s no way they’d let you on otherwise.”
Ready or Not (The Love Game Book 4) Page 12
