Chapter 38
Paul
“Let’s crank that sucker up,” Jessica said when Paul turned on the radio. Paul was driving her home after the party in his dark blue Lexus. It was close to nine o’clock. She reached for the volume and blasted a rowdy song, then started singing along, dancing in her seat.
His head was awash with emotions. He’d nearly canceled on Jessica’s big night but he was so glad he’d come. Watching her light up with happiness during her celebration, just being there for her and seeing her surrounded by her friends and employees who were also bubbling over with excitement was amazing.
It was cold outside, but clear. He looked over at her as he arched an eyebrow, then smiled and patted her knee, shaking his head. “Don’t worry. My voice isn’t that great either.”
“No, it’s not,” she said.
They both laughed. For a while, they sat behind a series of cars on the interstate, barely moving. They both started singing along to the radio. You could call it singing—maybe.
“I think we’re off-key.” To Paul, they sounded like a pair of squawking geese.
“Oh, just a little. So what?”
He grinned. Jessica was still in party mode.
A few minutes later, Jessica push-buttoned her window down. Fresh air rushed into the car as they started moving along on the highway. She stuck her head out the window, and when she turned toward Paul, she was white. She looked like she was on the verge of throwing up.
“You okay?” he asked.
She grabbed her head. “Not quite.”
“We’ll be at your place soon. Can you hold on?”
“I think so.”
She grew quiet as Paul pulled up to the curb outside of her bungalow. He glanced over and found her slumped against the car door, almost asleep. A small smirk flashed over his lips as he unbuckled his seatbelt and made his way around the car to her side. Gently opening the door to keep her from falling, he slid his arm underneath her, hefting her up. Carrying her up the walkway, he reluctantly set her down on the top step of her porch. He helped her as she fumbled with her keys, then led her inside.
Jessica leaned heavily on him. “Thanks, Paul. You’re a real caretaker-caregiver—whatever. Hey. How can those two words mean the same thing? By the way, do you have a twin? I think I’m seeing two of you.”
She put a hand on his shoulder as she wobbled toward her couch and plopped down on it. He got a wet washcloth from the bathroom for her forehead and made her some chamomile tea he found in her kitchen.
“Here. Drink this,” he said.
“You’re a saint. Guess I overdid it.” She looked up at him and put her hand to her forehead. “Thanks. When will I ever learn?”
“No worries. It was a big day for you, and you let your hair down. You deserve to have fun.”
“I guess.”
He took off her shoes then picked her up and carried her to her bedroom, laying her on the bed. He was filled with a warm rush of pleasure. Caring for her . . . it made him feel happy.
“I love being in your arms,” she said. “It feels so safe. So, this is what personal training’s all about.” She emphasized the word “personal.”
“Yes. Especially when it gets deeply personal.” He covered her with a blanket. It made him feel like he was protecting her. She looked back at him, her eyes glazed.
“Thank you, Paul,” she said. “You really didn’t have to do this.”
“I know I didn’t have to,” he said.
She touched his arm. “You know, I really think you are penguin material.”
“What?” He furrowed his brow.
“Oh, never mind.” She waved a hand in the air.
He sat in a chair next to her bed, feeling tired yet profoundly touched. He loved her. That was all there was to it. There was no use pretending otherwise. His feelings were undeniable. The way she’d been so happy at the party, how everyone had looked up to her—he could see it in their eyes. Her employees, they all revered her. He could tell how much they meant to her as well. It was a family, really. It was more than just a job for her. It was her life. And now he was a part of it.
But what if she didn’t always want him to be part of it? What if she didn’t want him forever, like he wanted her? He tried to push away the anxious thoughts. She had never given him a reason to doubt her. He had no real reason to worry.
He became aware that his fear of commitment was actually a veiled fear of abandonment and rejection. He’d seen it in his parents and that fear had settled into the deepest part of him. Wasn’t that really what it was?
Finally, he rose from his chair and found the couch in the den. He fell asleep alone.