Chapter 3 #2
“Twenty-six.” He glances at the clock, which reads 12:52 a.m. “For about four more hours.”
My eyes widen with the realization of his words. “So technically today?”
“Yeah, but nothing can top last year. I got the cutest smart-mouthed punk.”
Oh, okay, I see how this is going.
“I am the gift that keeps on giving, still a hot mess a year later. Heavy on the mess,” I joke.
He glances my way with a grin. “Heavy on the hot.”
Aww. Well, isn’t he just full of it tonight? I’m going to ignore that comment as well.
“I’m sorry you’re stuck with me, but I’m glad I get to tell you happy birthday first,” I say through yawns.
He does so much for me. I should be a better friend. Something about him turns me into this needy child who’s nothing like me. I shift in my seat to lean into his shoulder and squeeze his arm for a half hug. I’m not the most affectionate person but around Daniel Crawford? Mush.
“Thanks, little girl, but you know I’m not stuck. I’m sure Annie could’ve picked you up, but you needed a car nap.”
“How’d you come up with that?” I ask.
“A car nap or that you needed one?” He playfully pats my hand that’s still wrapped around his biceps.
“Oh.” I start to pull my hand back. I get a little too cuddly when I’m sleepy … or sad … or excited … okay, I’m probably way too comfortable with him in general. “Sorry, I guess I’ve been extra needy today.”
“What? No, Lu.” His brow pinches as he snatches my hand back. “It’s not needy to need someone once in a while. If I didn’t want to be here with you, I wouldn’t be. We’ve had this conversation before.”
Yeah. We have.
It’s not a topic I want to revisit, but I still feel bad.
“You have my back way more than I have yours.”
“Well … you can do my laundry if you want.” He smirks.
“I would,” I say truthfully.
“You have.” He laughs full and rich, causing little flutters to take flight in my stomach.
My cheeks burn, remembering his reaction when I did laundry for him and Jace last year when they had the flu.
“And it was a little early in our relationship for you to see my underwear. This is why we don’t keep score. ” He shakes his head, smiling.
“The score!” I feel around in the dark for my phone to check the Braves game score. Daniel grabs it from the center console and hands it to me without looking away from the road.
How does he do that?
“Six-two. We won,” he tells me. “Your man had a two-homer night.”
I love our catcher, but I’d never wear his jersey. At least not until he retires. That’s how you jinx a career, and I don’t taunt the baseball universe. But there’s something about a catcher’s quiet leadership that’s just undeniably hot, though I could never say that in front of Nath—Oh, nooooo.
I wake up my phone screen to see a text from Annie. She went home to see her parents and will be back tomorrow. Good thing Daniel has a key. I don’t have mine since I didn’t drive today. I’m so completely incompetent around him.
“Crap, crap, crap …”
“What’s wrong? Is Nathan worried about you? I should’ve texted him with your phone so he’d know you’re okay,” Daniel says.
“I forgot to call on his break. I told him yesterday I’d check on him tonight since he sleeps most of the day before work.”
I start to feel a little panicky that I didn’t follow through with what I said. Nathan’s going to be mad. He’ll say I ignored or neglected him. And here I am with another guy.
“He didn’t call or text you all day?” Daniel asks—his tone lifting slightly.
“Um, no, I saw him yesterday, but he’s really messed up about …
you know, the situation, and he’s down. He wasn’t at church, so I sat with his sister and then went back to his house—or you know, his brother’s house, where he lives, to see him after.
He sat in bed watching the game and wouldn’t talk.
He wouldn’t eat the food I brought or tell me if there’d been any baby updates.
He just shook his head and shrugged about anything I asked.
Obviously marriage is not … we’re not … I can’t … I don’t know what to do here.”
I instantly regret making it about me.
“I hear you. He did a dumb thing, but it was before you met, and even though it will affect the rest of your life, too, you chose to stand by him.”
“Yeah,” I mutter.
“Lu,” he exhales slowly, rubbing one eye with the heel of his hand before dragging it through his hair.
“You brought him food and went out of your way to spend time with him when you had a paper to write. You drove your unreliable car at night, after he ignored you. He also blew you off for the whole weekend two weeks ago because he needed to get away but didn’t want you with him and wouldn’t tell you what he was doing.
But you are worried about him?” There’s a slight edge to his voice.
I shouldn’t have told him, but I talk through almost everything with Daniel, even when I don’t mean to.
Especially when I don’t mean to.
I turn toward the window, ashamed of how weak I sound. He takes my hand and quickly kisses the back.
No slobber again. He’s going soft on me.
“You should be able to count on a person who wants to marry you. I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I just want you to hear the facts out loud. You deserve better.”
“When Nathan told me about the baby, he cried. He thought I’d dump him right then, but that would’ve been heartless.
He was trying to make things right. I know he can’t take it back.
She wants him to be at the next doctor’s appointment, so I’m trying to respect all sides. I know he’s not himself right now.”
I notice the flex in his jaw when he speaks again.
“I love what that says about you, but if this is who he is in a crisis, what does that say about him?”
“I’m trying to be patient, but I’m failing,” I squeak with the dreaded onset of tears.
I cannot stop talking. I need a therapist, and I shouldn’t be telling Daniel any of this, but like it or not, it’s my story now too. Tension from the last few weeks bubbles to the surface, and tears slip out as we pull into the village.
“You aren’t failing. Just because you have a high pain tolerance doesn’t mean you should tolerate any of this.
Lu, no. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry. You know what?
Go ahead. Cry as much as you need to,” he says as he steers the wheel to park in front of my building with his left hand.
His right hand still holds mine in a death grip.
“I shouldn’t have opened my mouth. None of this is your fault. ”
“No, I’m sorry. I talk too much when I’m tired. It’s heartburn and allergy eyes. I’m fine.”
“Stop it. Heartburn and allergy eyes—you’re ridiculous.” He huffs a humorless laugh and shakes his head. “You’re not going to apologize for needing people, remember? Do you need that in writing? I’ll make it permanent this time. I have the connections to make it happen.”
He really shouldn’t tempt me. I’ve been wanting another tattoo.
He puts the car in park and then comes around to my side. It’s starting to rain with some lightning flashes in the distance. He opens my door and waits for me to gather my hat, phone, and wallet before pulling me to his side. We’re almost to my door when the bottom falls out, and we get drenched.
I start to say I don’t have my keys when he pulls them from his pocket. Of course, he has them. He thinks of everything. I wonder if he’s secretly working for my mom cleverly disguised as a “too good to be true” neighbor.
Nah … with my luck, he’s probably a serial killer. One day it’ll be on the news, and people will say, “He was so helpful and sweet. We didn’t suspect a thing, but come to think of it, he did have tattoos and long hair.”