The Promises We Keep (Made for Love Book 1)
Page 27
“That was actually my idea. So I could get his employee discount. I was just joking at first but…” Man. Talking about him is so not helping me right now. Especially knowing he’s at work. Two of my favorite things in the same place at the same time. Books and my boyfriend. Well, used-to-be boyfriend—or…whatever.
“This can just be your thing, then,” says Roman, interrupting my thoughts. I meet his gaze, eased by his statement. “That is, if you enjoy it.”
“I have a feeling I will,” I murmur.
“Order up!” calls Daphne, setting three drinks on the bar.
“Daph, I didn’t order anything.”
“What kind of sister would I be to let you sit here all night without the best damn chai in the city? Please,” she huffs in exasperation. “Now go find seats before there aren’t any left.”
Roman reaches for his drink without further argument before leaning across the counter. Daphne, knowing what he’s after, lifts up on to her tiptoes as she leans in as well, offering him her cheek. He kisses her in thanks before we go to find someplace to settle. Sarah grabs my hand as we fall behind Roman and flashes me her most endearing look, her bright blue eyes big and beautiful. She mouths, ‘how cute was that?’ and I can’t contain my giggle. I squeeze her hand and bat my eyelashes at her as I mouth, ‘you SO like him!’ She shakes her head at me and we both laugh. When Roman looks back at us, we crack up even more.
And another bandaid covers my open wound.
I don't usually work Sundays but I was pretty grateful for the distraction this afternoon. I woke up feeling pretty decent, but that only lasted about an hour before frustration kicked in. Frustration. It’s no longer simply an emotion, it’s a new state of being that comes and goes, recently—a byproduct of my spiritual standstill. I feel completely directionless.
I used to think going to church helped with that feeling; Pastor Doug is great about challenging the congregation and touching on relevant topics. Even if he’s in the middle of a series that I can’t directly plug into the socket that is my current season of life, I’m usually able to gain something from it. Sometimes, that just means holding onto bits and pieces for later. But ever since the breakup—four weeks and counting—nothing he says feels helpful. Maybe that's not fair, because it’s not as if he can preach a sermon every week that’s meant only for me and the crap-fest that is my current situation, but it just makes it difficult to figure anything out.
Right now, that’s all I want: to figure things out, find my way, and end this frustrating time in my life.
Admittedly, distractions are so incredibly welcome, these days.
No—I’m not in this alone. Yes—God is my new true north. But I don’t know what that means. It sounds good on paper—on napkin—but when being with Addie was my end goal, it seemed easier to fit pieces together. She’s just more…tangible. God is…not. I go to church, I read my Bible, I pray—but what more does He want? Trust?
Well, I broke up with my girlfriend—which is the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life—because I thought that’s what You wanted…does that not speak of my trust? Now what?
Great. Now I’m throwing temper tantrums at God. God!
Like Addie said, so many questions and no answers. While avoidance might be childish, there's only so many times I can ask Him, What now?, before I need to give my mind a break.
But my frustration this morning was twofold. Me dealing with me and my own spiritual issues is one thing—but Addison? I could tell she was upset this morning. She wasn’t even sitting next to me and I knew. I knew. How could I not, after five years? I can sense her, feel her, read her—I love her more than I love myself, so of course I know when she’s upset. But I couldn't do anything about it. Not to mention, I could only guess it was about me, about us, and that’s what kills me. I don't actually know and I’m in no place to ask her. Sure, yeah, friends talk about what they’re going through and we’re friends…but our boundaries—
How is it that work went by so quickly? Can I go back?
I blow out a sigh as I turn my car off. Apparently, now that I’m home from work, I’ll have to find another way to clear my head as the agonizing analytical side of my brain has been reawakened on my short fifteen minute drive. I need Jack. And video games. And maybe a beer.
I race my way to my apartment, as if I can beat my thoughts there and lock them out. When I open the door and find Avery and Grayson on the couch, I cough out a laugh because I have no words to describe this moment. I’m in a bad mood and there they are, just as perfect as everyone imagined they would be.
Dammit, Beck. Get over yourself.
“Hey. Are you going to come in? You do live here, you know,” teases Avery in greeting. She’s sitting at one end of the couch with her feet resting on a folded up blanket atop the coffee table. Grayson has his head in her lap and his arms are wrapped around her like she's a pillow—which, in this case, I guess she is. He’s sleeping while she absentmindedly combs her fingers through his hair. “Hammy? Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I mutter, finally closing the door behind me.
“Liar,” she retorts with a smirk. “Want to talk about it?”
“No,” I bite. “I actually don’t even want to think about it.”
“Okay.” She offers me a sad smile and I feel bad that she’s inadvertently become the target of my frustration. “How about we talk about something else?” she asks, hopefully.
I nod as I make my way to the fridge, praying I can at least have one of the three things I am craving. I sigh in relief when I spot my favorite beer in the door. “What do you want to talk about?” I ask, popping the cap off before making my way over to the armchair.
“How about next weekend? You’re going home, I presume? For Father’s Day?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you, maybe, want to carpool?”
I groan, throwing my head back against the cushion behind me. Me in a car with Addie for two hours? Yes, please. But can I not escape her for just ten minutes? “Sure. Yeah. Why not?”
“Geez, Hammy, don’t sound so excited,” she scoffs.
I roll my head to the side so that I can look over at her. I can tell that she regrets starting up a conversation with me. I have to tell myself, again, to get over myself. “I’m sorry. Can we—just—can we not talk about anything that has to do with Addie?”
“I wasn’t trying to bring up AJ. I was actually hoping that riding down with you would make Sonny less nervous about spending the weekend with us and our parents.”
And now she has my attention. I had no idea he was planning on doing that. Usually, when I head home, he comes with me. It never fails that we end up at the Grant’s residence at some point or another, but this is different. Why he’s nervous, though, I’m not sure. Everybody loves the guy. I sit up straight as I lift my eyebrows in amusement. “He knows he’s already met them, right?”
She giggles and the light her smile returns to her eyes is all the proof I need that I’m forgiven for taking my poor attitude out on her. “Yes. He’s convinced that it doesn’t mean a thing since he met them as my friend and not my boyfriend.”
“Well, he has a point,” I agree with a shrug. “But he’ll be fine. I didn’t know he was planning on going.”
“We just talked about it today. I’m not sure the next time I’ll be home. I’ve got pit orchestra coming up in a few weeks and so my weekends will be pretty busy. He’s got football, so the middle of the week won’t work. Plus—maybe it’s silly—but I just really don’t want to go without him…
“I don’t know, though—do you think it’s too soon? Too soon to introduce him as my boyfriend? We’ve only been together for a few weeks.”
I chuckle as I shake my head at her. “No. It’s not too soon. Nothing you two do can be considered too soon. You’ve been a couple in the making longer than some dating relationships ever last.”
“I suppose,” she says sheepishly. “That’s not all I’m worried about, though.” She
pauses, dropping her eyes to look down at the man in her lap. “I’m really close to my parents—to lots of my family, really—and that’s not something he’s used to. I know I asked him and he agreed…but I just don’t want him to feel pressured to go. It’s also Father’s Day. He says it’s fine and he doesn’t care, but maybe I’m being selfish. Do you think I’m being selfish? Do you think I’m making a mistake?”
As I sit and watch her, it’s as if I can see the wheels turning inside of her head. If I don’t stop her soon, she’ll have uninvited him before he wakes up and he’ll have no idea what happened. “Ave.” I lean toward her and reach out to tip up her chin so that she’s looking at me. “He would do anything for you and he would never think of it as a mistake. If he really didn’t want to go, he wouldn’t have agreed. Besides, it’s your mom’s birthday weekend, too, and he knows how much that means to you.”
“I guess. I just don’t want to push anything onto him that he doesn’t want, you know? I know he’s not used to family celebrations.”
“He’s seen his fair share of family events at my house over the past couple of years. Besides, just because he’s not used to it doesn’t mean he doesn’t want it. He wants you and that includes your family. He knows that.”
“Yeah. You’re right.” She relaxes at my reassurance, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Speaking of my mom’s birthday—are you going to stop by? I know she’d like to see you.”
I pull away from her and tug a sip of my beer from the cold bottle in my hand. Me in a house with Addie and my second family for an hour? Yes, please. “I don’t know, Ave. I’d like to. But—”
“Addie wouldn’t object. Sorry to bring her up!” she cries, pulling her fingers from Grayson’s hair and holding her hands up in surrender. “But it’s true. So don’t use her as an excuse and just say you’ll come. Besides, your parents will probably be there. It’d be stupid if you didn’t come.”
I can’t help but chuckle at her response, as if I might explode any minute at the sound of her sister’s name. Then again, isn’t her caution warranted? I certainly acted like I would explode a couple minutes ago. “Okay,” I concede with a nod. “Just tell me what time and I’ll be there.”
“Perfect. Two o’clock, Saturday, at our house. Dad’s cooking out, so bring your appetite.”
“Oh, that won’t be a problem.” I know for a fact that Ray Grant knows his way around a grill like nobody else.
Grayson inhales loudly, drawing both of our gazes in his direction. Avery giggles as he squeezes her, waking up his muscles as he stretches his back. “Hey, sleepy head,” she coos as she buries her fingers in his hair, once more.
“Umm, no,” he grumbles, shaking his head. “When you do that, it’s like when I put on ESPN and it knocks you out—so unless you want me to go back to sleep, I suggest you stop.”
She laughs and then bends to kiss his forehead. “No more sleeping. How about eating? I’m hungry, and I’m sure grumpy pants could use a tasty meal, too.”
He pops up his head and looks at me with half-mast eyes. “Hey. Why you grumpy?” he mumbles.
“We’re not talking about her—I mean it,” says Avery with a grin. “But maybe we could change his mind with one of your famous grilled cheese sandwiches?”
“Mmm,” he hums as he sits up. He rubs his eyes and takes another deep breath before nodding at me. “We can try.” He kisses Avery before he stands and heads for the kitchen.
I have no intention of spilling my guts tonight—but I’m not telling him that; not until after I get my sandwich. Or maybe two.
A dozen people get up to perform their pieces of poetry. Half of them are awful, a few of them are decent, and a couple of them are incredible—making the whole experience worthy of repeating. It’s nine o’clock when the event is over and I’m feeling so awake and full of energy that the last thing I want to do is go home, so I suggest we do something else. Daphne appears at our table just as the words pass my lips and she informs us that she’s starving, she’ll be off in a half an hour—after she and Brandon close up the cafe—and that we should keep a seat warm for her at Cooper’s. Despite the fact that all three of us spend hour after hour at the pub for work, none of us are opposed to the idea and we set out for our next destination right away.
Daphne shows up a half an hour later, Brandon in tow, and we all share a pizza with some beer. Well, Sarah orders a beer and I try hers and decide that it’s not really my thing and stick with my water. We’re halfway done with our pizza when a heavily tattooed guy, in a graphic t-shirt and a backwards baseball cap covering his dark blonde hair, makes his way toward our table. I’m apparently the only one who sees him approach and he catches me studying him as he grows closer. He brings a finger to his lips, signaling for me to stay quiet, and there’s something in his oval shaped blue-green eyes that makes me trust that he’s harmless. My instincts are proven right when he sneaks up behind Daphne and gently presses his lips against her neck, just shy of where her t-shirt begins. She jumps and he kisses the spot again before she noticeably relaxes, still without turning to see who it is. My heart flutters at the sight of the exchange.
“You didn’t tell me that your sister had a boyfriend,” I whisper as I nudge Roman with my elbow.
“You never asked,” he says, setting down his beer. “And she doesn’t. That’s just how they are.” Before I can ask him to explain, Mr. Tattoo comes around and pats Roman on the back in greeting. Roman twists around and they clasp hands and exchange the typical man hug, and it’s obvious that they’re glad to see one another. “How’s it going, man?” Roman asks as Mr. Tattoo grabs a seat from an empty table nearby and joins us. Roman scoots closer to his sister and makes space between him and me. Glancing over at Daphne, I miss Mr. Tattoo’s response to Roman’s inquiry. I wonder about the distance that he places between the two of them, considering his warm greeting, but the smile that lights her eyes as she watches him implies that she doesn’t seem to mind.
“Addie, Sarah,” I’m pulled from my thoughts at the sound of my name in Roman’s voice, “this is Trevor. Trevor, Addie and Sarah.”
“Hey,” he says with a wave. His eyes travel from Sarah to me and his eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “Haven’t we—oh!” His face relaxes as realization strikes. “There are two of you. I forgot.”
I laugh and nod. “Technically there are one of each of us, but yeah. It’s nice to meet you.”
“So, how was the poetry thing?” he asks.
His simple question has all of us jumping in, describing our favorite moments along with our opinions on the worst. Conversation flows easily between all of us, even though some of us have just met and we’re all connected in such disjointed ways. I bask in the sibling love that passes back and forth between Roman and Daphne. They bicker and tease each other all night and it makes me happy to see another side of Roman and to have the chance to get to know Daphne a little more. Even better is the front row seat I have to the flirtation between Sarah and Roman. No way is she ever going to be able to live this night down. I make a mental note to bring Sarah up in conversation with Roman more often from now on.
Trevor suggests a game of foosball and Roman, Sarah, and I agree to join him.
“Come on, handsome,” says Sarah as she bounces from her stool. “We’re the dream team.”
The dream team? I shake my head and stifle a laugh as Trevor and I join forces on the opposite side of the table. Yeah—I’m going to hold onto that one.
Even though I totally suck at foosball, Trevor’s strangely awesome and we win the first game. Our joint celebration over our victory leads to a challenge for another round, which Roman and Sarah win; and since we can’t leave tied, Trevor insists we play one last game—which we win in no time. Then we finally decide it’s time to head home. I’m sad to see us go our separate ways, but there’s a smile on my face that won’t go away. Tonight has been exactly what I needed. More than what I needed…and I have a feeling we’ll see each other again soon.
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On the drive back home, I thank the Lord for new friends, pleasant distractions, memories full of laughter, and fresh bandaids.
It’s Thursday and my bad mood from Sunday is still being dragged around like a piece of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of my shoe. I can’t even count the amount of times in the past four days I’ve thought screw it—I’m over this. I’ve come this close to stomping up to Addison’s door, entering without knocking, pulling her into my arms, and kissing her until I can’t breathe. I’ve come this close to telling her: I have no idea what the hell I was thinking and this isn’t working and I don’t know what I’m doing without you and so I’m done trying to pretend that this is for the best because CLEARLY it’s not.
But then I don’t do anything.
Why?
Because I don’t believe I’m any closer to being ready to get married to her than I was before. That’s not fair, right? Not to mention the feeling I get when I think I might break and just ask her to come back to me anyway—it’s as if I’m giving God the finger; suddenly screw IT translates to screw YOU and Your plan because it sucks and I don’t understand it.
Did I mention the toilet paper stuck to the bottom of my shoe is covered in crap? Because that’s how bad this is. Jack, who insists I’m going through some form of male PMS, has kicked me out of the apartment. Okay, that’s an exaggeration. He told me I needed to get out and get some fresh air because he was afraid our apartment was too small to contain me when I finally detonate.
He’s probably right, which is why I’m now wandering around Old Town all by myself. The late afternoon heat is dry and almost uncomfortable, but only almost so I try not to complain. I’m not sure why I decided to come here, of all places, aside from the fact that it reminds me of Addie. I guess that somehow puts me at ease. Maybe if I hold onto the good parts—the memories of us together—and push aside the bad parts—the agony of us apart—I’ll find the strength to keep pushing and keep seeking and keep growing into the man who’s ready for her.