Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
RACHEL
“Can we go swimming again?”
Dottie’s whiny tone has Paige and me sharing a look. I can tell Paige wants me to do all the talking since this is my kind-of-boyfriend’s daughter, so I say, “It’s almost six. I think we’re going to fix dinner soon.”
“Pizza?” Dottie’s eyes light up.
“How about chicken tenders and broccoli?” I try to make it sound way better than pizza, but Dottie isn’t having it.
We’re on our first day of watching Dottie for Wyatt, and we’ve been going nonstop. Like, it’s more exhausting chasing after a six-year-old than working the day after the Fourth of July at Mitchell’s.
I might be stretching it, but I am tired. And from the look on Paige’s face, I’d say she is too.
“I don’t like broccoli.” Dottie crosses her arms, jutting out her bottom lip.
“Broccoli is delicious, especially the way I make it. It tastes sweet. Almost like candy,” Paige announces as she leaps to her feet and heads to the kitchen.
Now I’m sharing a look with Dottie, the doubt written all over her face. “Like candy? How?”
“I have my secrets.” Paige opens the fridge and pulls out the bag of broccoli she picked up when we went shopping. “And I have homemade ranch for you to dunk your chicken in.”
Dottie springs off the couch and heads for the kitchen. “Like what they have at Mitchell’s?”
Paige shuts the refrigerator door with her hip, holding up a small cup full of liquid gold, a.k.a. Mitchell’s Landing’s homemade ranch. “Exactly what they have.”
“Yay!” Dottie starts hopping up and down, clapping her hands. “I love their ranch.”
“Everyone does.” Paige sets the cup on the counter. “Want to cut up the broccoli for me, Rachel?”
“Sure thing.” I go to the kitchen sink and wash my hands before I grab a cutting board and a knife.
I tear open the bag and spill the contents onto the cutting board, cutting the florets into more manageable bites and tossing them onto the cookie sheet Paige provided.
She’s making the chicken tenders from scratch, setting up three bowls with flour, eggs, and a combination of Italian breadcrumbs and parmesan cheese.
I would’ve bought frozen chicken nuggets because kids usually don’t care, but that’s just me.
“You’re going all out,” I tell Paige as she sets up her little production line for the chicken tenders. “I bet they’ll be delicious.”
“Amazing. I’ve made this before.” It’s been a few days since the Fourth of July fiasco, and Paige has been abnormally quiet. I’ve let her be, not wanting to prod too much or make her upset. I did tell her I’m an open ear and we can talk about it anytime, but she hasn’t brought it up once.
Like she wants to forget all of it ever happened.
“What’s your secret with the sweet broccoli?” It sounds odd, but Paige is actually a great cook, and I trust her.
“This.” She opens the cabinet and pulls out a teddy bear–shaped bottle of honey. “I toss the broccoli with avocado oil, salt, and pepper, and then I drizzle just a little bit of honey on it. That caramelizes it just enough and gives it a sweet, crunchy texture.”
“I love sweet and crunchy food,” Dottie adds.
“Like what kinds?” I ask her.
“Um, carrots. Kettle corn. Apples.” Dottie beams. “I like a good crunch. So does my daddy.”
“I bet your dad likes lots of things,” Paige murmurs, making my cheeks heat.
The last night we were together—the semiawful night of the Fourth—Wyatt showed me everything he liked and more, sexually.
Despite my being upset over the evening, Wyatt was able to coax me out of my bad mood with sex.
It just keeps getting better and better between us every single time, and it’s a little worrisome how that keeps happening.
Like how much better can it get? Won’t we level off at some point?
It could get boring between us. Repetitious.
He could get sick of me. I’m a lot. I’ve had plenty of men tell me that in the past. Even my father says it.
And I do get bored easily, which is a terrible trait.
I don’t stick to something for long. I move on quickly. Everyone knows it.
Shoving the negative thoughts out of my brain, I concentrate on making dinner with Paige, helping her coat the chicken and ending up a flour-and-egg-and-breadcrumb mess.
Once that’s done and we’ve got the broccoli in the air fryer, Paige makes the chicken, frying it up in the cast-iron pan she always uses and swears makes everything taste better.
She is, of course, a great cook. There is nothing Paige can’t do, I swear.
When we’re seated at the dining table and eating our dinner—the chicken is so good dunked in the ranch, and that broccoli is delicious and not weirdly sweet—I receive a text from Wyatt.
What are you doing?
Eating dinner.
What are you having?
Chicken and broccoli.
Dottie doesn’t like broccoli.
I glance at Dottie’s plate, which only has one floret left on it. I snap a photo and send it to her dad.
She loves it. She’s also dipping it in ranch.
Ranch makes everything better. Why didn’t I think of that?
You’re not brilliant like us.
Ha, you’re probably right. She wearing you two out yet?
Not at all! She’s been great. How’s your day going?
Pretty slow. That’s why I’m texting you. I wanted to ask if you guys wanted to stop by the station.
Giddiness fills me. I’ve never visited Wyatt at his fire station before. This feels important.
Are you sure that’s okay?
I’m the captain, of course it’s okay. I miss Dottie.
And I miss you too.
I press my lips together, trying to contain the smile that wants to spread across my face, but it’s no use. I’m grinning like a fool, and Paige notices.
“Wyatt?” she mouths at me.
I nod and type out a response.
What time do you want us to come over?
Whenever you want. But not too late. Dottie will probably still need a bath and all that.
Right. I kind of forgot about a bath. Paige and I even talked about swimming in the pool as a substitute for a bath, but then we both felt like bad babysitters if we did that.
We’re almost finished with dinner, and after we clean up, I’ll text you and make sure you’re there. Then we’ll head over.
Sounds good. Can’t wait to see you.
He sends me a heart emoji, and I rest my hand against my chest, oddly touched.
It might mean nothing, but when I was younger, heart emojis were currency in relationships.
The different colors meant things. Pink was the most noncommittal, but a red heart?
That meant relationship-type things. And Wyatt sent me a red heart.
I can’t read too much into this. I love the idea of being in an actual, real relationship with this man, but then again, it terrifies me.
My future is completely up in the air. I have no idea what lies ahead for me, and I know deep down I have to go home and face my parents.
Tell them what’s happened to me this summer and how I’ve met someone special.
A man who’s seven years older than me and has a child.
Like, that’s a lot. My mom will probably freak out and say I’m too young to be a mother, especially to some other woman’s child.
My dad will say I’m making bad decisions like usual, but Scarlett will probably support me no matter what.
Not that she’s home. She’s still traveling with Tate and will be until, like, September.
I wish I could talk about it with Paige, but she’s still upset over Nate, and I don’t want to rub it in her face how great things are going with Wyatt when she’s torn up over his stupid little brother.
Thank goodness we’ve had Dottie as a distraction today because Paige has been so quiet since that night out on the lake, she’s made it hard to have a conversation with her.
It’s only when we start cleaning up the kitchen and Dottie is in the living room picking up her toys that she’s strewn about that I mention to Paige I’m leaving.
“Wyatt invited us to go to the fire station.” I keep my voice as casual as possible. “You want to go with us?”
Paige shakes her head, concentrating on rinsing off the plates. “No, thank you. I’ll just feel like a third wheel.”
“Oh, I doubt that, with Dottie there too.”
“Right. I’ll be the babysitter while you two sneak off and try to find a secret place to have sex at the station.” Paige shuts off the water almost violently, dropping a couple of forks into the basket before slamming the dishwasher door shut.
My jaw feels like it’s literally on the floor, it’s hanging so low. “Are you freaking serious right now?”
Paige makes an aggravated sound as she whirls around to face me. “No. I’m just a jealous bitch who hates that you’re getting everything I want. I’ve been patient. I’ve been waiting for him for what feels like forever, and this is how he rewards me? By going cold and distant and not talking to me?”
“That’s, uh, that’s kind of my fault,” I confess.
She rears back, blinking repeatedly. “What did you just say?”
“I, um, I told Wyatt that you were getting tired of Nate’s antics and your crush on him was fading. I guess Wyatt told his brother that right before we showed up. That’s why he went silent and wouldn’t talk to you,” I explain.
Paige’s face does this weird reset thing. Like she’s pulled a blank mask over her face. “I see.”
I watch as she moves about the kitchen like a stiff robot. Wiping down the counters. Tossing a discarded napkin in the trash. I should’ve done all of that, but I can’t because she’s taken over completely like usual, and all I can do is stand here.
“I’m sorry, Paige. I know I shouldn’t have said—”
“You should’ve kept your mouth shut.” She turns around to face me. “I never even said that about Nate. You made up a lie and told it to Wyatt, who told his brother, and now Nate hates me.”
The pain in her voice is almost unbearable, and I reach for her, but she backs away quickly, like she doesn’t want me to touch her. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“Really? Well, you should’ve thought about that before you said something so detrimental to my future.
You’ve ruined everything, Rachel. Everything.
I’m sure Nate will continue to ignore me and eventually find someone else.
So thanks. Thanks for ruining everything between me and Nate.
” She dries her hands on the dish towel with jerky movements, tossing it on the counter before she exits the kitchen.
I hear her footsteps pounding up the stairs and the slam of her bedroom door, and I tip my head back, glaring at the ugly fluorescent panel lighting above.
I hear little shuffling feet enter the kitchen. “Is everything okay?”
Taking a deep breath, I glance over at Dottie, who’s watching me with a cautious expression. “Want to go see your dad at the fire station?”
“We can go visit him?” I nod. “Let’s go!”
“Give me a few minutes, and then we’ll leave.” I smile at her, ruffling her hair, and she leans into me, giving my leg a quick hug.
At least she’s not mad at me.