CHAPTER 30

LIFE REALIZATION #13: GETTING RID OF A SINGLE MAN IS HARDER THAN YOU THINK

September faded into October, and over the next several weeks, Grant and I had what I assumed was a fairly normal relationship (minus the sex). Business was improving as well. It was the first time in my life where I felt like I belonged, like I fit here in this place, in this moment.

Tonight—the Saturday night we’d been working toward—the early-October evening breeze bustled around festive tables at the Grove, the production space we’d rented for the big country music client dinner, where we hoped to ratchet up our success.

Erin was a wizard. She’d coordinated with Deanna, Mere, and Keyondra and tucked new and potential future clients together around raw-wood tables scattered on a bed of fallen pine needles, below the strings of incandescent bulbs that swung from pine to pine. A huge buffet table, laid out like a cornucopia, was several feet to the left of an elevated stage, where musicians were putting on a free show in hopes of capturing the attention of one of the scouts—a group of people I’d never met before. The scouts had been invited by the country music husband-and-wife team from my coworking space, who were trying to get their clients gigs.

Piper, the massage therapist, was on the premises, running her hands all over people in a large white tent at the back of the gathering. Michelle exhibited her graphic design skills with strategically placed signs and decor, and I’d given a lecture about money, showing, with larger-than-life tables and graphs (courtesy of Michelle), how I could make it grow.

The chatter was loud, and people were coming up to me, asking questions or setting up meeting times either online or at my office so we could talk more. I was positively giddy. This was working. If we signed a fraction of those who seemed to be interested, then we’d be well on our way to being a real, competitive business.

Beau, one of the performers hoping to catch the eye of a talent scout, came up to my table. “I’ve thought about what you said.” His eyes broke from mine to glance at Erin. A wide-mouth grin lit up his face and hers. He was cute and maybe young enough for her, and she’d spent a lot of the evening with him.

“Beau,” Erin said, batting her eyelashes like a true southern belle. “Can I set up an appointment for you to come into the office and talk more?”

“I’d like that, Miss Erin.” His voice was like the chords of a country music song.

I’d found that a lot of people in Nashville didn’t have that stereotypical southern accent. Most who lived here weren’t from here, but when I heard it, there was something comforting about that lengthening of vowels. Erin certainly enjoyed it.

“I look forward to speaking with you soon, Beau,” I added.

I glanced at one of the tables and freaked out, slapping Grant’s arm, my focus ripped from whatever was happening between Erin and Beau.

“It’s Fred and Doris!” From the meat ’n’ three Fred and Doris. This elderly couple had become my ideal life picture. I was fascinated by them. “How are they here?” They were sitting next to Black Coat and Beige.

He pursed his lips. “I invited them when I went to pick up the banana pudding.”

Deanna had been deep in conversation with Mere, bordering on an argument, about their ability to buy a physical location for their catering business, but her ears were always attuned to food, and she threw her head back to say, “I’m still mad about that pudding.”

“Deanna,” Grant said, “I love you and your food, but my girl needs clients, and this stuff will clinch the deal.” He pointed to the barely touched pudding in front of him, and I tried to hide my serving by tossing a pastry on top of it.

Her mouth dropped open. “How dare—”

“And give the B and B thing a rest. Invest with Pen, and it’ll come.” Grant winked at me.

“When Pen will let me invest with her!” Deanna tossed her hair—she was becoming irritatingly persistent about the B and B—and turned back to her conversation.

She and I had discussed investing, but I’d been hesitant. I didn’t want money to ruin our friendship, something I valued more each day, but I also knew what I could do. I had a binder with her name on it already. I just needed to make it official.

I squeezed Grant’s arm and leaned into him. “I keep meaning to tell you: I have access to Deanna’s Pinterest page. She has a board called ‘Future B and B.’”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It means I have pictures of exactly what Deanna wants her B and B to look like.”

His eyes sparkled in the moonlight. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

I nodded—I didn’t feel amazing—and looked back at Fred and Doris. “What do you think they’re talking about?”

“You can ask them when they come by your office to discuss their fortune.”

Hand to chest, I gasped. “They’re coming to my office?”

“Yeah, baby! See what I can do for you?” He winked. I’d told him Chad had said this during his disastrous proposal dinner, and we’d been dropping the phrase, a little guiltily, into conversation whenever it fit.

Chad had called, several times, but I’d made a clean break. I also hadn’t answered my mother’s calls since my last trip to Minnesota. I was compelled to listen to her voicemails, though. They held accusation along with sadness that made me feel unsteady, like my stomach was in an unending cycle at the laundromat.

“Should I walk away with both our puddings?” I laughed and reached for his serving, but he didn’t try to stop me. “What’s wrong?”

He arched his back. “My back. It’s bothering me again.”

I started to suggest he should see a doctor, but this was back pain, which likely would resolve on its own, and doctors were full of bad news. He didn’t need to see a doctor. He needed rest, a relaxed schedule. He needed me to be the girlfriend I’d never been and care for him.

“Maybe you should go home.” I wanted him to feel better more than I wanted him here. “I need you in tip-top shape for game night tomorrow night, so we can beat the pants off William and Deanna.”

“Oh, I’ll be ready,” he assured me.

I leaned in closer, sliding my hand up his thigh, just shy of his crotch. “Maybe before they arrive, I can take your pants off.”

“If you move your hand any higher, I’m going to take you on this table in front of all your new clients.”

“Promise?”

“So you won’t let me feed you in public, but you’ll let me take you on a table?” He reached for me, but I pulled away, determined to torture him, and he winced.

“Your back?”

He waved my concern off. “Shh. Don’t let Will and D hear you. It keeps getting better, but that monster ride the other day set it off again.”

I rolled my eyes. “Show-off.”

Erin and Beau walked up.

“You should go see Piper,” she said, having apparently overheard our conversation.

“No!” I said. “She does things.”

Erin rolled her eyes. “Umm, yeah. That’s her job, and she’s amazing. She worked on my neck, and it was orgasmic.”

“No massage should be orgasmic,” I said, still concerned with Piper’s lack of concern for any kind of boundaries.

Erin’s fingers entwined with Beau’s—fast—as she walked toward Piper’s tent and motioned for Grant to follow her.

“I think I need one of those massages,” Grant said, winking at me.

I put my lips to his ear before he could stand to follow. “If you want an—”

He held his hand up. “Not changing my mind. Unless you can honestly tell me—”

I threw my arms up, cutting him off. “Just go, Grant!”

He walked off with Erin, Beau, and William, who’d decided he wanted in.

If he’d been another man, I would’ve ignored his grimace of pain and carried on. Grant was different. I wanted him to do what was best for him, even if that was an orgasmic massage from Piper. That was what a normal, caring person would do when their significant other was under the weather.

Significant other.

Significant.

It felt good to care, to really care about another human’s welfare. I winced at the thought of who I’d been. Now that I was invested, my body wasn’t quite sure how to move, like my limbs weren’t comfortable with anything this real. How does a robot become a human? What does one do with the nuts and bolts previously holding one together?

When Brandon was still alive and when our mother hadn’t yet morphed into a machine and Dad hadn’t started drinking, our parents would read to us. The Velveteen Rabbit floated in and out of my stack. A stuffed bunny became real because of a little boy’s love. After Brandon died, I ripped that book to confetti and flushed the scraps of paper down the toilet because the little boy got sick in the story, but he had been okay. He had gone on to live his life. Brandon hadn’t.

The sentiment of the book held true. Love—Grant’s, Deanna’s, William’s, and even Erin’s—was slowly but steadily softening my hard edges. I’d lived with a dull ache in my belly, a distant longing for what I didn’t have, and now that I was getting it, the ache was fading. As country music filled the air alongside the smell of barbecue and freshly cut grass, I was happy.

Happiness came from having all the right ingredients, like a cake. Leave out one item, baking powder for instance—Deanna was rubbing off on me—and the dessert fails.

As I breathed in the night air, satisfaction and fatigue warmed my chest, until I looked across the courtyard and saw—

Chad.

He strode toward me, his golden hair highlighted at each incandescent bulb. White T-shirt. Fitted black blazer. Jeans.

I couldn’t move.

Someone said something beside me, but I couldn’t make out the words. And then I watched Deanna head straight toward Chad like a linebacker.

He stopped because Deanna didn’t give him a choice. He opened his mouth, but Deanna put a stop to that too. She was facing away from me, but Chad appeared to be listening, his unshaven jaw and shaded undereyes becoming more pained the longer she went on.

They stood like that for a while, Chad occasionally saying something I couldn’t hear. At one point he called out my name and tried to move around her, but Deanna wasn’t having it.

It was a warm evening, but at the sight of Chad, that chill had taken residence inside me. An arm came around my shoulders, led me several steps in the opposite direction until I couldn’t see Chad or Deanna. It was Keyondra. She was warm, smelled like vanilla, and somehow felt like home, which was probably because her scent came from the black vanilla leave-in conditioner from the Carol’s Daughter line. We’d talked about it, and I’d tried it. I’d tried every curly-hair product out there.

She pulled me close. “What is he doin’ here?”

“I don’t know.”

I was shaking, and Keyondra held me against her until Deanna walked up to us and exhaled. “He’s gone. Tenacious, though. He did not want to leave without talking to you.”

“What did he say?” Seeing him again was like a slash of paint across a delightful portrait, a reminder of my past and who I’d been.

“He said he wanted to apologize, to let you know he still had feelings for you. I told him that you’d moved on, and it would be best for everyone if he did the same.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

“Well, it didn’t end there. He was pretty insistent, said he knew the two of you were meant to be together. That’s when he tried to get around me. So, I told him Grant probably wouldn’t agree because you and Grant were now dating. He took that one hard. He left after I told him if he really cared about you, he’d leave you alone, because you are happy.”

The air was heavier and more difficult to breathe. And then, I wanted Grant, even if I had to go through Piper to see him.

“I can’t thank you enough, Deanna. It really shook me seeing him there. It was just so unexpected.”

“I saw that.” She wrapped her arms around me and squeezed.

Then I told her I needed to see Grant.

“Ahh, you’re finally ready?” Piper said. My resistance to her massages seemed to make her want me to have one even more.

Grant’s smile faded when he saw my face. He maneuvered off the massage table. William replaced him.

“Piper, you’re a magician,” Grant said; then all his focus was on me. “What’s wrong?”

“Chad.” My voice was barely above a whisper. “He showed up here.”

He looked over my shoulder. “Chad’s here? Now?”

“I kicked him out,” Deanna answered, but Grant was already running out of the tent.

“Pen.” I turned at the sound of Piper’s voice but glanced back out the tent doors to where Grant had vanished.

William let out an awkward moan as Piper’s hands kneaded his back.

Orgrossmic.

“I’ll go after Grant,” Deanna said, and then she disappeared too.

“I don’t want a massage,” I started. “I really appreciate it, but—”

“Fine. You’re the one missing out because I know I could help you, but that’s not why I called you back.”

I moved from one foot to the other. “What is it then?”

“Keep an eye on your man. Have him come back and see me soon. There’s something off about his aura. He needs a cleansing.”

Thisis what she’d called me back for? I would do no such thing, but I said, “Sure.”

“Please, Pen. It’s needed.”

“Right. I’ll tell him. Thank you.” Then I ran out of the tent, smack into Beau’s broad chest.

“We were just coming to find you,” Erin said, her hand permanently fused to Beau’s. “There’s a crew set to clean up. We’re going to watch Netflix and chill, at Beau’s.” She winked at me. “It was an amazing evening. We have so many scheduled appointments. I knew this was a good idea. You need anything else?”

“It definitely was, and I don’t need anything.” I gave her a look that hopefully conveyed my pride, even though I was preoccupied. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

She walked off, beaming. I didn’t think she even heard me.

I crossed the lawn, finally spotting Grant and Deanna talking ... alone. Thank God.

“Don’t worry. He’s gone,” Deanna said as I came up to them. “Where’s William?”

“Having an affair with Piper in the tent.” I forced levity I didn’t feel.

“I’ll go get him,” she said. “Wonder if Piper does threesomes,” she added as she walked off.

“I don’t think she realized what she said because that doesn’t even make sense.” I casually tucked my arm into Grant’s, but his body was rigid.

“I can’t believe he showed up here.” I’d never seen Grant so agitated.

“I don’t want to talk about it. He’s gone. Will you take me home?”

His exhale was long and rough, but he nodded. “Let’s go.”

When we pulled into my driveway twenty-five minutes later, I pushed my palms into my eye sockets. “I don’t know why this is affecting me so much. It’s just that things finally feel like they’re coming together, and then he shows up.”

Grant’s hand spiraled around my back. “That’s the way life is. Bittersweet. The bad always comes with the good.”

I raised to meet his eyes. “I don’t like that.”

“I don’t either.”

We were silent for several seconds until he turned toward the windshield and put his hands on the steering wheel, his knuckles blanching. “I didn’t like how jealous he was when we first met; then, when you told me how he proposed to you, I was furious. But I’m glad he was gone before I got out there because my instant reaction was to confront him, and I didn’t have nice things running through my head.” Grant turned toward me. “But he cared about you, in his own broken way, and he’s trying to fix his mistake. He can’t fix it. I won’t let him, but I understand it. It’s what I’d do. If I’d done something to hurt you—and I’m going to try like hell not to—I’d work to get you back.”

My head fell against the headrest, unsure what to do with the compliment. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.” An electric current ran through my muscles, giving me a jittery, unsettled feeling that I didn’t want to face in the silence of my house, especially since Erin wouldn’t be there.

Without asking me where I wanted to go, he backed out of my driveway.

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