13. Chapter 13
Chapter 13
After sleeping most of the day, Paige woke to the smell of waffles. She briefly thought about taking a quick shower, but quickly decided she’d rather eat first. Her head still hurt, but the nausea had subsided a little, and she actually felt hungry.
“I love brinner,” Paige said with a smile as she shuffled into the kitchen, taking in all the breakfast items set out for dinner.
“I know.” Jules returned the smile and then removed a waffle from the waffle maker before asking, “Are you feeling any better after your nap?”
“A little. But I’ve gotten a bunch of texts from Linda about tonight’s wedding, so I need to deal with those.”
“No, you don’t.” Jules held out her hand. “Give me your phone.”
“Jules, I can’t just ignore her.”
“You don’t need to be squinting at your phone, texting answers to her stupid questions.”
“What if it’s a legitimate question?”
“I doubt any of them will be, but I’ll read her texts to you, then text back your answers. How’s that?”
Paige pulled her phone out of the pocket of her sweat pants and held it out to Jules. “Fine. But you have to be on your best behavior. You have to text exactly what I say—you can’t throw in any ‘Fuck you’s’ or anything.”
“Best behavior. Got it.” Jules took the phone and discreetly switched it to silent mode before shoving it in her pocket; it was the only way she’d be able to keep her promise. “Now go have a seat.”
Instead of following Jules’s directive, Paige opened a cabinet and grabbed a glass.
“What are you doing?” Jules asked. “I told you to go have a seat.”
“I’m getting a glass of water. I’m thirsty. And I need to take some Tylenol.”
“I’ll get it.” Jules took the glass, filled it with water, then got two tablets of Tylenol and put them in Paige’s hand.
Paige popped the pills in her mouth and then raised an eyebrow. “You sure you don’t want to hold my glass for me while I drink?”
Jules’s hands went to her hips. “You think this is funny?”
“Maybe a little.”
After swallowing the Tylenol with a long drink of water, Paige reached for a plate.
“Now what are you doing?”
“I’m going to get a waffle.”
Jules took hold of the plate, quickly wrestling it from Paige. “I’ll get your waffle.”
“Jeez. I think I can make my own waffle—”
“Go. Sit. Down.”
With a sigh, Paige did as she was told.
A few minutes later, Jules brought their plates to the table and after setting them down, she dimmed the overhead lights so that the room was mostly in shadows. “You’re supposed to avoid bright lights,” she explained as she sat down.
“I know, but there’s avoiding bright lights and then there’s eating in the dark. I can barely see my waffle,” Paige told her, even though she could see enough to know it was prepared exactly how she liked it, with a ton of butter and syrup.
Jules adjusted the light a little. “Is that better?”
“Barely. Is this how the whole weekend is going to be?”
“Yes.”
“Well, just so you know, Nurse Ratched, I’m drawing the line at having my ass wiped.”
“You’re not drawing the line at anything. If your ass needs wiping, then I’ll do it.”
“I know I’m the one with the concussion, but you’re the one acting crazy,” Paige said, cutting into her waffle and taking a bite.
To her dismay, Jules felt the backs of her eyes burning a little and she blinked rapidly to fight off any tears that might be on the way; she hated crying and tried to do it as infrequently as possible, which meant she avoided Nicholas Sparks books and movies like the plague. “When you called me at 3 a.m. and told me you were in the hospital, there was a very real moment when I was scared shitless,” she said, her voice catching a little. “And you might think I’m overreacting, but fuck. You were badly hurt.”
Seeing the real angst on Jules’s face had Paige taking her hand and squeezing it. “I know. And I’m not happy about that. But honestly, though, the concussion isn’t even the worst thing that happened to me last night.”
“I know.”
The words were out before Jules could stop them, making Paige blink at her.
“What do you mean, you know?”
“I ran into David when I got to the hospital. He was parked outside your room in a chair,” Jules told her. “I almost didn’t recognize him with the longer hair and beard.”
Paige pursed her lips; David obviously hadn’t left when he’d said he was. “So, he told you what happened?”
Jules picked up her waffle with both hands. It was basically a sandwich with a layer of peanut butter, sliced bananas and a generous drizzle of honey between two waffles; she actually couldn’t remember ever eating a waffle with silverware. “He told me his version,” she said, taking a bite. “But I’m sure he glossed over a lot, so I want your version.”
For the next fifteen minutes, Paige told Jules as much as she could remember and when she was done, Jules gave her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry I told you he would never get involved with her.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for. You believed it. And I wanted to believe it.”
“Now we know what he meant when he said he’d moved on and was in a good place. Although, it’s hard to believe that being with Ashley qualifies as a ‘good place’.”
“I don’t know. They seemed happy.”
Jules then shared a few highlights of her talk with David and in doing so, remembered something. “So, what were you doing at Bender’s?”
“I was meeting someone for a drink,” Paige answered slowly, then waited.
“You’re just now telling me you had a date? Almost twenty-four hours after you had it? That’s not okay. This friendship thing has to go both ways, you know.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want any pressure or expectation placed on it. I knew if I told you, you’d be excited as shit and want to make a big deal out of it, which would only make me more nervous about it going well—”
“I’m offended. When have I ever made a big deal out of anything?”
“How about always? And in case you hadn’t noticed, you’re making a big deal right now,” Paige pointed out.
“It was your first date in forever. So, in this one instance, I think I’m allowed to make a big deal out of it—”
“One instance?”
Jules pointed a finger at Paige. “You’re lucky I don’t hold grudges, because this is grudge-worthy. Now, you can start earning my forgiveness for not telling me about your date by sharing every detail of it. And I do mean every detail.”
Paige made a face at Jules’s tenacity. “Well, for starters, it was just going to be a drink, not a date—”
“Having a drink counts as a date.”
“—and then it turned into a date, but we never actually had the date. Which means there’s nothing to tell.”
“Um, no. There’s plenty to tell. Like, does this ‘someone’ have a name?”
Paige paused. “His name is Hale.”
“What kind of a name is Hale?”
“It’s a name. And before you say another word, let me remind you that you went out with some guy named Miller last year—”
“God, even with a concussion your recall is amazing. I’d totally forgotten about him,” Jules mused, then steered the subject back to Hale. “So, how did you meet Hale?”
“Online.”
Jules pulled Paige’s phone out of her pocket, making sure there weren’t any new calls or texts from Linda that Paige would see and think had to be dealt with, before sliding the phone over. “I’m going to need a face to go with his name while you fill me in on his occupation, personal stats, and whether or not he had bad breath. Because he kind of sounds like he would.”
“He didn’t have bad breath,” Paige denied as she took her phone and pulled up Hale’s profile picture for Jules to look at.
Jules raised her eyebrows. “Damn. He’s hot. Like Robert Downey, Jr.”
“I know. But I won’t be seeing him again, which means you don’t need to hear about him.”
“Paige …”
“Jules …”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
Paige was resolute; Hale was now attached to one of the most terrible moments in time for her and she knew from experience associations like that were really hard to get rid of. They could be neutralized, but not forgotten.
Jules didn’t push it any further, but her disappointment was obvious as she put Paige’s phone back in her pocket. “Poor Hale. I think I understand why you cut him loose, but still. It sucks balls.”
“It does suck balls. I liked him.”
“Look, I know last night was above-average bad as far as dates go, but it could’ve been worse, you know.”
“How could it have been worse?”
“Well, people die from falling and hitting their heads all the time, so—”
“All the time? You mean like on soap operas?”
Jules hid a smile. “Fine. Maybe not all the time. But you could’ve split your head open and needed stitches—and they probably would’ve had to shave part of your head.”
“Huh. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“I know. That’s what I’m here for, to do the heavy mental lifting. So quit wallowing and focus on your good fortune—”
“Wallowing seems a bit harsh.”
“—and promise me that you’re going to get right back in the saddle.”
“Well, not right back in the saddle, because I’m not going on another date until I quit feeling like Muhammad Ali’s sparring partner. But I’ll get back in the saddle as soon as I can. And hope like hell the next date is better.”
“It will be.”
“You’re probably right, since ending up in the hospital sets the bar pretty low.”
“Speaking of which … are you going to press charges against Ashley?” Jules asked.
“No.”
“I think you should.”
“Hale said the same thing. But I’m not going to.”
“Paige—”
“Hear me out, all right? I just want to turn my back on all this. I don’t want any further contact with that bitch and pressing charges will make that impossible.” Paige took a deep breath and slowly released it. “And it’s not like I would get any sort of ‘justice’ anyway, given that the real crime is Ashley having David’s son and calling him by my son’s name every day of her life. Pressing assault charges won’t change that. Plus, I kind of … started it.”
There was much Jules wanted to say, but bit back any further argument as she took in her friend’s tired face and shadowed eyes. “Okay.”
“Okay? That’s it?”
“That’s it. But I’m not going to lie. I wish you’d charge her ass. I really, really do, because even if you did start it, what she did wasn’t justified. But it’s your decision, and I’ll respect it.”
“Thank you.”
They sat in silence for several moments until Paige broke it with a sad smile. “You know what’s stupid? I wonder if he still has that tattoo.”
She hoped he did, if for no other reason than Ashley would’ve had to look at it for the past four years. It probably made Paige a terrible person to hope for such a thing, but wouldn’t hoping that Ashley’s boobs sagged down to her knees be worse?
“Oh, my God,” Jules said with a semi-shocked laugh. “I hope so. That motherfucker was big.”
“Yeah,” Paige agreed softly. “It was.”