Chapter 31
It had taken almost a half hour, a bit of cajoling, and the bribery of half of Tai’s sandwich to get Evangeline’s wig back from the squirrel.
“Yes! Finally!” Tai held up the wig in victory, panting slightly from his efforts.
The squirrel chittered from his branch, looked at the processed meat and bread in its tiny hands, then back at the wig.
“Oh no,” Tai said, backing up. “We made a trade. No take backs.”
Evangeline laughed from where she sat on the picnic blanket.
Tai glanced at her, relieved to see her happy and relaxed.
He’d gladly make himself dizzy chasing the blasted squirrel around the trunk of a thousand trees just to glimpse the look on her face right then.
Her guard was down, and she’d lost the self-consciousness and embarrassment that had blanketed her when the wind had ripped the wig from her head.
If he could make it so she always felt this way, he would.
He shook out the strands of synthetic hair, hoping to untangle some of the knots that had formed from the squirrel’s treatment.
“Here. I think that creature is either related to Pepé Le Pew or Scrat from Ice Age. When he sees something he wants, he becomes obsessed. You decide if you’d rather think he saw the wig as a girlfriend or . . .”
Evangeline set the wig on her fist, picking at the strands and looking it over. Her lips twitched. “The poor thing does look rather defiled now, doesn’t it?”
“I hear bedhead is all the rage.”
She snorted, letting her grin unfurl.
The squirrel threw down the hunk of sandwich and descended the trunk of the tree, chittering as he went. He scurried toward the blanket, stopping feet away, then standing on his hind legs, his front paws clasped in front of him as if pleading with them.
“I think he’s begging you to not keep them apart. He’s ruined her reputation with his dalliance and now he wants to do the right and noble thing.”
She barked out a quick laugh. “But can he provide for her and make her happy? Give her the life she’s used to?”
Their eyes met over the horribly disarrayed crown of the wig and both lost the last of their control over their amusement, laughing hysterically.
Tai recovered his ability to speak first. “Is it salvageable?” He nodded toward the wig.
Evangeline shrugged, still chuckling. “I honestly don’t know.” She turned to the begging squirrel. “Do you promise to love and cherish her as long as you live?”
The squirrel got down on all fours and hurried forward to the edge of the blanket, stopping there to resume his pleas of undying love.
“I think that’s a yes.”
“Then I now pronounce you—” She shook her head wryly. “What am I even doing right now?”
“Performing a squirrel and wig wedding,” Tai said in a voice full of forced seriousness. He looked at her, and their eyes locked.
“That has to be the most ridiculous thing to ever pass your lips.”
“Says the person officiating.”
Impatient, the squirrel ran forward, snatched the wig, then retreated as fast as he could to the safety of the trees.
“I hope he treats her right.”
“That wig is never going to be the same again.” Tai winked at her, which set her into another fit of giggles.
He could watch and listen to her laugh all day. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes bright. Although that wasn’t the only part of her with color.
“I’ll be right back,” he said as he walked to the car. He opened the trunk and went to a side compartment where he kept a few outdoor supplies. Grabbing a bottle of sunscreen, he shut the trunk and walked back to the blanket.
“The top of your head isn’t used to seeing this much sun, and I don’t want you to get burned.” He wiggled the lotion in his hand. “May I?”
“I can do it.”
“So can I, and I want to.”
She pressed her teeth into her bottom lip. She didn’t appear convinced that anyone would want to touch her bald head.
“Angel, you’re beautiful,” he reassured. “Please, let me.”
Finally, she nodded, though still looking hesitant and unsure. Tai sat behind her and squirted sunblock into the palm of his hand. Evangeline’s shoulders were stiff, her whole body rigid in front of him.
He leaned forward, his mouth by her ear. “Relax,” he whispered. He placed a kiss along the curve of her neck, lingering and breathing in her scent, nuzzling her with his nose until she drifted back toward him. He applied the sunscreen evenly over her skin, then firmed his hands, massaging her head.
“That feels so good,” she nearly moaned.
Tai swallowed the flood of moisture in his mouth at the sound. He almost changed his mind in broaching the question that had been plaguing him but pressed on.
“Angel,” he said as he applied pressure with his thumbs at the base of her skull. “Why have you been so set on this matchmaking thing of yours?”
“What?” she asked dreamily, as if he were waking her from another place.
“Why have you been working so hard and investing so much of yourself in other peoples’ love lives? I understand you’re a romantic and want to see people happy, but then with yourself you . . .”
How could he say in a gentle way that she’d shut out the possibility of love for herself?
She reached up and gripped his wrist, pulling his hands away. Slowly she turned so they were facing each other.
“I stay on the sidelines. The only place I thought was safely left for me. If I wanted love and romance in my life, I thought I could get it secondhand by helping other people find their happily-ever-afters.” Her lips tipped, but it was a smile painted with sadness and shadowed by acceptance that should never have been allowed.
Tai leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers. He reached around her until his hands splayed across her back, then he tugged her closer, nestling her onto his lap. He couldn’t protect her from past hurts, but he could hold her while she hopefully healed from them.
“Why do I feel like there’s a guy whose butt I need to kick?”
More tension seeped from her body as her lashes lifted and she looked into his eyes. Her smile grew warm. “Probably because there was a guy, but you don’t need to kick his butt.”
Tai squeezed her tight. “If he hurt you, Angel, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop myself.”
She tilted her chin up and pressed her lips against his, comforting him and assuring him the way he was supposed to be doing for her.
Tai angled his head and deepened the kiss, her words that she only belonged on the sidelines ringing in his mind.
In the game of love, Evangeline was the most valuable player—she should’ve never been benched, never have been made to feel as if she didn’t belong in the game.
He wanted to erase every doubt that had ever entered her mind, every negative voice she’d ever heard.
He wanted her to see herself how he saw her. But more importantly . . .
He gentled the kiss, then eased away, resettling his forehead against hers. He licked his lips, getting one last taste of her before he pressed on.
“Angel, whoever the guy was, whatever he said or did to make you feel no one would love you or want you—it was a lie. You’ve always been loved and wanted, sweetheart.”
Her brow furrowed beneath his.
He placed his hands on her shoulders, adding physical weight to the weight of his words.
“God is the lover of your soul, Evangeline. He woos you every single day of your life, wanting you to fall in love with Him over and over again the way He loves you. He calls you beautiful, beloved, and lavishes you with more tenderness and affection than a groom does a bride on their wedding day. And nothing can change that. Not an autoimmune disorder or physical changes in appearance. Certainly not hair loss. He loved you from the beginning, and He’ll love you for all time. ”
A tear escaped the corner of her eye. It physically pained Tai to watch it roll over her cheek and collect on her chin before falling to her lap. He pressed a kiss against its track, tasting the salt on his lips.
“If you let me, Angel, I’ll love you too. No more watching from the sideline.” His mouth hovered in front of hers. “Please join the game with me.”
He felt more than saw her head nod once before her lips crashed against his.