Chapter 33
Raleigh
Groaning, I quickly scroll through to see if any catch my eye as we taxi to our gate.
I answer an email and make sure none of the pressing matters are from Mae directly.
I reach Dalton’s texts near the bottom when the seat belt sign extinguishes and the aisle immediately floods with people from far behind me racing to the exit.
Reluctantly, I click off my phone and rise to stand with the rest of the crowd.
I’ve been through this regional airport dozens of times, but not recently, and not via a commercial airline in a good many years.
It’s easy for me to meander to the two baggage claim carousels on the bottom floor.
This gives me the time to turn back to Dalton’s texts.
A fury of butterflies soars through my stomach when I think about our last few days together.
Dalton: Text me when you land.
Raleigh: Hey, I’ve landed. I’m grabbing my bag and then I’ll be heading home. *skull emoji
The response is almost instantaneous, which causes my heart to leap again.
Dalton: I’m glad you’re home… even though I wish I was with you. It’s weird that I miss you so much already.
Raleigh: Really? Because I don’t miss you at all.
A lie.
Dalton: I know you’re lying.
Raleigh: And how would you know that?
Dalton: No emoji usage is a telltale sign.
I scoff out a laugh which garners a mean look from a mother of three. I can’t blame her, I’d be irritable too after a flight with three little ones. Turning my back on the rowdy family, I step closer to the baggage claim which has begun to spin.
Raleigh: You caught me red handed. *Stop emoji’
Raleigh: Hey I’ve gotta grab my bag and then think of three thousand different outcomes for tonight’s dinner so I can prepare.
Dalton doesn’t respond right away which makes me fear that maybe I shouldn’t have brought up my plans with Grant and my family. He’d seemed so supportive and okay with everything when I finally broke down and explained the situation to him that night after the bar.
Thinking about how close we got that night has heat crawling up my neck. Not wanting the mother beside me to find another thing to be annoyed by, I tuck my phone away and move forward to select my bag.
From there, I find my way outside where my driver is already circling.
He parks and collects my things with no more than a pleasant greeting.
To my surprise, I find myself wishing it was Dalton driving me around instead.
My imagination gets the best of me because in my state of make believe, my driver has opened the door for me and is now standing there awkwardly waiting for me to move.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “Jet lag.” With the flip of my hair, I shuffle into the back of the Escalade and ease back into the cool leather. As the car pulls away, I tell myself not to look outside, to focus on my phone, and hold onto the Nashville landscape as long as I can.
It’s been too long since I’ve been home to Arkansas, and I know that the moment I give into the hidden beauty of it, the sorrow of missing it will hit me like a truck.
Wanting to protect my peace as long as possible, I swallow a bit of homesickness and turn back to my screen.
The unease builds when I see a new message from Dalton. I tap it and it all washes away.
Dalton: Is one of the outcomes that your mom breaks into that rendition of Ring of Fire you told me about?
Dalton: If it is, I’d like to put my money on that one.
This coaxes a smile out of me, and I’m bummed that Dalton can’t be here to see the way that he calms me. I should just tell him these things, but I would hate to not be able to see the way he would react to a truth like that in person.
Raleigh: I fear that if that happens, nothing will save the evening.
***
My grand return is without fanfare, just as I’d hoped it would be. Mother tsked about it being too long since I’ve been here, but only after engulfing me in a long hug. After that brief interaction in the entryway, Mother made way for me to follow her into the sunken living room.
My dad greeted me with a smile and wide open arms. With American Pickers on in the background and the smell of the worn leather furniture, it was all too easy to sink into the couch and curl up.
Dad and I have fallen into our old routine as though no time has passed. I’m thankful for the teasing and the glass of whiskey, without which, I would be a wreck of nerves. It takes me back to my unremarkable childhood, and for only a moment, I allow myself to miss it.
The very reason I don’t let myself dwell on my easy and relaxed youth knocks at the door and suddenly memories of long hot summer days spent in the yard dissolve.
As the doorbell rings I turn to my father who is already reaching out a hand to me.
“I’m proud of you,” he says with a knowing smile.
I grab his hand and hold it in mine. “It takes a special kind of person to face something like tonight when you could so easily ignore it all and keep on with your life. Just remember that this is for your mother; she wants to see you both happy, with the closure you both deserve. You’ve done much harder things than this, Raleigh, but I hope that tonight you’ll let me have your back. ”
All I can do is nod. If I talk, I think I might cry and then attempt an escape.
“Are you two just going to leave our guests at the door?” I hear my mom chirp from the kitchen. “Really, you two? I do all the cooking and you expect me to get the door?”
“We’ve got it, dear!” my dad calls back, clinking his glass onto the coffee table.
Mother’s made this arrangement on purpose, but I’d rather face this at the door than at the dinner table.
With a heavy breath, I join my dad in the hallway.
I get all the way to the door handle before faltering.
My dad puts his hand on mine quickly, not missing a beat.
Before my mother can scold us for leaving our guests in the cold—it’s actually 75 degrees and sunny—Dad opens the door and I feel the color drain from my face.
My gaze takes in Grant’s fiancé first. My total opposite in every way, I can’t help but balk at her classic beauty.
Athletic curves, blond hair, tailored nails, bangs, all of it.
The woman goes in for a hug with my dad, and soon after, Grant shakes my father’s hand.
I suddenly realize that this woman and Grant might be better acquainted with my parents than me, that they’ve been here for my parents when I could not be.
I guess that’s what happens when your parents remain active in the same church and school activities from your childhood.
I couldn’t possibly explain the emotions that tear through me when Grant finally catches my eye.
Years of our tragic history pass between us, but his smile doesn’t falter.
With a little nudge from my father to my right, I take the first step at bridging the gap and reach out a hand.
The same electricity of the past passes between us at the first touch, and I pray that my face doesn’t betray me.
“Raleigh,” Grant begins, retreating from my grasp. “This is my fiancé, Tobin.” Before I turn to his bombshell of a future wife, I see the way he flexes his fingers on the hand that just held mine, but I don’t dare comment on it.
“I’m such a big fan!” Tobin exclaims with a smile. She doesn’t make a move to come near me and neither do I toward her. There’s only so much I can take in one meeting.
***
Dinner is just as awkward as the introductions at the door. Mother and Tobin chat about the wedding, and my dad tries to chime in with a classic dad joke time and again. Besides the forced fake niceties and smiles in regards to wedding planning, Grant and I remain silent.
I know my mom’s heart was in the right place when she set this up, but believe it or not, a family dinner is not the best place to make old wrongs right again. I simply need to make it through without anyone catching an eye roll or hearing the comments I’m making in my head.
“Raleigh?” Tobin asks, deep into the dessert course. I raise my head from my nearly empty plate and find two bites taken out of hers. “I’ve been biting my tongue the whole meal, but really, I need to know about this upcoming show.”
The tension in my shoulders drops when I realize she doesn’t want to know about me. “Oh, um, it’s just a one off show. We’ve been itching to get on the stage since the abrupt end of the tour.”
Tobin’s eyes dart between me and her fiancè. “I hate to be forward, but considering your friendship with Grant, would we be able to get a few tickets? It’s the least you could do for us really, since none of us would be in this position if Grant had stayed with you.”
Grant winces and I nearly choke on my dessert. Dad rears back but holds his tongue. Mother quickly finds her feet to clear the table. I swear, I hear the light light humming of “Ring of Fire” as she shuffles away.
Game. Set. Match. Dalton.
The single thought of Dalton rubbing my face in our pointless bet suddenly has me seething. I should be with him, wherever the hell he is, instead of here in front of a man who hurt me badly and hasn’t done one iota to fix it.
Feigning an emergency, I take a look at my phone laying on the table that I left face up for this exact reason. It didn’t buzz or light up, but I’m a good actress. I tap the screen and frown.