Headlights #2
Lainey sets the plates on the table, then comes back for napkins and silverware while explaining what “idle” means to Dean.
“This smells so, so good, Colton,” she says as she finally sits down at the table.
I sit too. “Thanks. Took me a while to perfect the recipe. Secret is red wine vinegar. And yeah, lots and lots of actual red wine.”
Same arrangement as before, with Dean sandwiched between us. I can tell he loves it by the way he smiles shyly at his plate.
“This is a really fun night.” His voice is quiet.
My chest twists. Do I worry Dean is lonely? All the time. But I also work my ass off to make sure he has everything he needs.
To make sure he comes home to a loving place.
Fun kinda gets left at the wayside, though. I feel like we’re barely surviving so much of the time, much less thriving.
But this right here? A (mostly) full table, a happy six-year-old, LEGO bricks strewn everywhere? Somehow this feels like thriving.
If only it weren’t also messy in every sense of the word.
“So fun.” Lainey is going to town on her short ribs. She pauses, closing her eyes like she’s savoring the bite she just took. “Colton.”
“Yeah?”
“As much as I hate to compliment you—”
“It’s hard, I know.”
“Ha. But seriously, this might be the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”
Goddamn it, you’re cute. And filthy.
Is it hot in here? I feel like it’s hot in here.
“You’re the worst.” I scoop a parsnip into my mouth. “Also, thank you.”
“Dad is really good at making meat loaf.”
I chuckle. “This isn’t meat loaf, buddy. Short ribs, remember?”
“Oh. It kinda tastes like meat loaf though.”
Lainey nods. “Almost the same concept. What’s your favorite thing your dad makes?”
“Hm.” Dean mulls this over as he shoves another forkful of meat into his mouth. “Probably chicken. And pasta. And steak. Sometimes on the weekends, we make bread together, and then Dad uses it to make French toast.”
Lainey stares at me. “You make your own bread?”
I stare right back. “You don’t?”
“How—”
“Sally’s sourdough starter,” I explain. “She had some to share, so I had her come over to give Dean and me a lesson in how to make it. Once you make your own bread, you’ll never go back.”
A small smile works its way onto Lainey’s full mouth. “I am so impressed, y’all.”
“What do you like to make, Lainey?” Dean asks around a mouthful of food.
“Chew with your mouth closed, please,” I say. “Where did those manners go?”
He swallows. “Sorry.”
“I make a little of everything,” Lainey replies. “I learned how to cook from my mom. She made us dinner almost every night growing up.”
“My mom did too.” I grab a sip of beer. “Now I appreciate what an endeavor that was. Feeding your people is—”
“A full-time endeavor,” Lainey says with a laugh. “How many full-time jobs does that make for you?”
You get it.
You see.
My voice is gruff when I reply, “At least three.”
“You really must not sleep.”
“Not much, no.”
Her eyes meet mine across the table. They’re alive with laughter, the unspoken joke about sex and sleep hanging in the air between us.
I gotta pump the brakes. It’s not normal to be able to communicate like this after interacting with someone less than a handful of times. I don’t wanna miss this woman when she’s gone. Because she is leaving.
I don’t want my son to miss her either. There’ve been enough painful exits in his life already.
But I can’t make myself get up from the table.
Instead, I sit and talk and eat. Dean wants to play thorns and roses again, so we do. Lainey asks what we love about living on a ranch and what the challenges are.
“I went to business school thinking I’d eventually land a marketing job in private equity or maybe just finance in general.”
I screw up my face. “Private equity?”
“You don’t approve, I take it.” Lainey grins.
“Just doesn’t feel like you.”
She looks up from her plate. “How so?”
“Weren’t you just howling at the ceiling? I mean moon? And you say you like drawing and stuff. Private equity…seems kinda dry for someone as creative as you are.”
Her eyelashes flutter. I expect a witty reply, but instead she reaches for her Shiner and takes one of those long, thirsty sips that has my dick perking up.
“I’ve been telling myself that I can be creative in any marketing position.
” She speaks slowly, choosing her words with care.
“There’s a lot of prestige that comes with working in a field like private equity.
I want to build a nice life, you know? Make my own money.
Make good money. Seeing what happened with my mom… ”
Knew it.
“What happened?” I wipe my mouth on my napkin. “If you’re uncomfortable talking about it—”
“No, no. It’s okay. Just, my mom stayed home to raise us, so she’s never really had a career. Now she’s completely dependent on my dad, and…yeah, I’m not sure how happy they are. We actually got into a fight right before you and I—”
“Right.” I feel a hot flush working its way up my neck. “Sounds like we both were going through some stuff that day. What did y’all fight about?”
“She thinks I need to grow up and get a, quote unquote, real job. One where I go into a real office every day. It’s like she totally discounts all the work I put into this.
” She motions to the room around us. “Not your house, obviously. But into the work I’m already doing.
The time I spend researching, the hours on social media seeing what’s on-trend, all the classes I took on this stuff, the networking I’ve done… It’s like none of it matters.”
My heart twists. “She doesn’t understand it.”
“It’s like she doesn’t understand me, and that’s frustrating. I’m trying to find a big girl job—”
“You know I’m only opposed to you doing your job here on my family’s property.”
She sighs. “Not helpful.”
“But I do see how hard you work, Lainey.” My heart throbs as the words leave my mouth. “Far as I’m concerned, you work just as hard as we do. You care, and that counts.”
She looks like she’s about to either laugh or burst into tears. “Awful rich, coming from the guy who wants me gone.”
“Both things can be true at once,” I say softly.
“Since when are you one to embrace subtlety?”
I grin. “Since I met you. So what’s your mom’s story?”
She meets my eyes, a puzzled look on her face. Like she’s wondering who the hell I am. Where I came from.
Why I’ve changed my tune all of a sudden.
We’re more alike than I thought, Dallas. And that makes me feel so much less lonely.
“My mom is stuck,” Lainey replies. “She’s unhappy, but she doesn’t have many options. It’s interesting to see how different the dynamic is between your parents, though. Your mom stayed home with y’all, right?”
I nod. “She did.”
“And she and your dad seem happy.”
My chest feels tight all of a sudden. “They are happy, yeah. They got a lot of respect for each other.”
“From what I can see, they downright adore each other. It’s cute.”
Grinning, I tilt my head. “It is. Sometimes.”
“But then I’m wondering, why do some couples end up happy and others don’t? I’m not sure there’s one answer to that. Whatever the case, I’ve always wanted to work—to be independent—so I’ll have options.”
This surprises me. I guess I’d assumed she had this bullshit branding job because she was some kinda trust fund baby and didn’t need to get a real job, that she was being supported somehow by someone.