Chapter 12
EJ
The natural state of motherhood is unselfishness.
~ Jessica Lange
I wave goodbye to Champ across the station parking lot and walk to my truck.
I texted Angie a few times today. It was a busy shift, so I couldn’t call.
She did answer my texts, but something’s off.
I can’t quite tell what. Saturday night she was exhausted after a long day at Bordeaux Days.
Yesterday she said she was spending the day with the boys.
But she didn’t call me after they were asleep like she usually does.
And when I called her, she was polite, but not warm.
Not exactly cold. Definitely cool. I’m not one to let embers sit, waiting to see if something’s about to burn down, so I intend to get to the bottom of whatever this is.
Maybe I did something to upset her. I can’t imagine what since I was working the festival all day Saturday and we haven’t seen one another since then.
I thrum my fingers on the steering wheel of my truck and pull into the parking lot near the Dippity Do.
I feel oddly empty-handed. It’s not like I usually show up with anything aside from the occasional dinner.
Should I have brought flowers? I wish there were a handbook I could consult somewhere.
How to Approach the Woman You’re Falling for When It Seems Like She Might Be Upset With You but Then Again Might Just Be Having an Off Day.
Yeah. I don’t think that exists. I guess I’ll have to wing it.
I stride across the street, blowing out a breath and opening the salon door.
“EJ!” Laura says in an overly bright voice.
“Hi, Laura,” I answer her, but my eyes are trained on Angie.
She’s smiling shyly in my direction.
Rob, Laura’s husband, walks in behind me. “Hey, Laura.”
“Rob?” She smiles through the confused tone in her voice.
“I thought I’d surprise you and take you out for dinner.”
He pulls his hand out from behind his back and produces a bouquet of flowers. Red roses mingled with a bunch of smaller flowers I don’t know the names for.
Yep. Should’ve brought flowers.
Strike one.
“I’ll just … grab my purse,” Angie says, looking around her station at anything but me. At least that’s how it feels.
“We should go out!” Rob suggests. “The four of us. You wouldn’t mind sharing me. Would you, Laura?”
Angie stutters out an, “Ummm …”
Laura says, “Not tonight,” glancing over at Angie. “I want you all to myself.”
“Okay then,” Rob says. He looks at me. “Rain check. We’ll pick a time and make it happen.”
“Sounds good,” I say, looking at Angie again to gauge her reaction.
She nods and smiles.
Angie joins me, stepping close as usual—the same way she does every worknight. I place my hand on her back, because that’s what I do. Touching her floods me with relief and emotion, a wave starting at my palm and spreading through me.
We walk toward her van in silence. Rob and Laura exit the salon just behind us, locking up and heading to Rob’s car.
Rob shouts over, “Have a good night!”
“You too,” I shout back.
When we’re right next to Angie’s van, she turns toward me, looking up into my eyes, a definite sadness in her expression.
“Is something wrong?” I ask.
“Yes.” She looks down and then back up at me. “I don’t think I should be dating someone.”
“Someone? Or me?” I ask on impulse.
“You’re the only one I would date … have dated.” She sighs. “It’s just … I don’t know what I was thinking.”
My hand reaches up out of instinct and habit, running through her hair and cupping her head gently. “What happened, Angie? We were having fun. I really like you.”
“I can’t afford fun, EJ.” Her brows draw in. She looks up at me with a pleading expression.
Pleading for me to understand? I don’t.
Or maybe she’s asking me to make it different. I will if I can.
“I’m a mom. My life isn’t about dating for fun.”
“You’re a mom, so you can’t have fun?” I’m trying my best to track with her.
“I can have fun. I just have to consider my boys.”
“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing?” I search her eyes. “I’m confused.”
“Yes. I thought so. But then I realized. They need more. I can’t …” Her voice drifts off. She looks like she might even cry.
I must be missing something. “You want responsible? I’m responsible. Let me prove it to you. We don’t have to have fun.”
I almost chuckle. I don’t know what’s wrong with fun. She seemed to like when we were having fun. We’ve laughed until we shed tears, gasping for air between bouts of laughter. We’ve let loose. I know she enjoyed all of that. What changed?
“I know you’re responsible, EJ. It’s more than that.” Her lips pinch and her brows draw in even more.
“Is this about the boys?”
She nods and a tear slips out of her eye, trailing down her cheek. “They’re not an afterthought.”
“An afterthought? Where did you get the idea that they’re an afterthought?”
“You said so yourself. They’re a totally separate situation. It’s not about the boys.”
Before I can correct her, she’s unleashing her thoughts through the tears she’s obviously trying to contain.
“And I get it, EJ. You barely know my boys. I was crazy thinking you’d want to date me and take them on eventually.
And I don’t mean take them on. No one should take another person on.
They’re amazing—my life. My twins are my life.
And I can’t ask a man to understand that or want them. That’s too much. Why would you? So …”
She pauses and I jump in, cutting her off. “Angie, no.”
Her brow twists in confusion. “No?”
“No. You’re right, I don’t know the boys very well.
But I do know them. And they’re a lot of fun.
But they’re also clever, curious, active.
They aren’t an afterthought. Not in the way you’re thinking.
When I said the boys are separate, I meant they are a part of your life we need to handle with care—separate from the connection we’re already developing.
They matter deeply. And my hope is to become a very big part of their life—if you want that eventually. ”
Her mouth pops open into a small circle. “Oh.”
“You still look skeptical,” I tell her.
“I don’t know what I am. All day at the festival, people kept approaching the kettle corn booth saying things about you and the boys. Asking me if you were ready to be a father and if I was asking too much of you.”
“Who said that?”
“It’s not important,” she says, as if she can tell I’d drive by their house tonight to set the record straight.
“You’re right,” I agree. “It’s not important. What matters is us. Not the busybodies of this town.”
“I love this town.”
“I do too. The gossip mill, not so much.”
She laughs lightly.
“Give me a chance, Angie. I’ll show you I’m serious.”
“I want you to prove them wrong,” she says. “And I’m sorry I doubted you.”
“I don’t blame you a bit,” I tell her. “If I were you, I would have pulled back too.”
And I don’t hold it against Angie for withdrawing from me. I’m not a parent. I can’t imagine what it must feel like trying to date while you’re working full time and raising two adorable, rambunctious boys.
“So, this thing starts tomorrow,” I tell her.
“What thing?” she asks, swiping a nearly dry tear from her cheek.
“Operation Prove Bordeaux Wrong.”
She chuckles again, smiling up at me.
I take a breath and then I lay it all out there. I’ve been holding back, afraid I’d scare her off. But now? I know she needs to hear this. Or at least I think she does.
I stare straight into her eyes and say, “I want a family, Angie.”
She nods.
I reach out and tip her face up. And then I say, “I want this family.”
I don’t even soften the blow by saying someday down the road. I just let the truth hang there between us. I do want this family. I want her and her boys. I want to be the father and husband they need. And I am ready to show her any way I can that I’m serious.
She smiles. “Can you be patient with me? This hit me hard.”
“I’m patient. Well. I can be, when motivated.” I smile down at her. “But the operation starts tomorrow.”
She laughs, lightly shaking her head.
I lean in and kiss her cheek. She wraps her arms around me and holds on.
“Thank you,” she says.
“Nothing to thank me for. You have every right to be sure a man who wants you wants everything that comes with loving you. I’m that man. And I’m going to prove it to you.”
“I believe you just might,” she says softly.
I run my hand down her hair, holding her close.
She eventually pulls back. “I have to get home. The boys and Mom will be waiting for me so we can eat.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I tell her.
“Okay,” she says.
And then she climbs into her van and I watch her as she drives away.
The next morning, when Laura and Angie show up to the Dippity Do, I’m standing on the sidewalk with Angie’s favorite coffee in a to-go cup from Bean There Done That.
“None for me?” Laura asks.
“I’m not trying to prove I’m the man you need to spend your future with,” I say.
“Well, I don’t know about that,” Laura says. “You see, friends have a lot of sway in these things.”
“Laura!” Angie says, taking a sip of her coffee and humming.
“What? I’m not wrong.”
“Well then, you’d better let me know what you like for tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Angie asks.
“I’m bringing you coffee in the morning. And one day, I’ll be making it for you while you stay in bed and I get up with the boys. But let’s just take it one coffee at a time.”
“Wheweee,” Laura says. “That’s one heck of a line, EJ.”
“Not a line,” I say.
I take one more look at Angie. She’s smiling and sipping her coffee.
“I’ll see you tonight after work. Tell your mom not to cook. I’m picking up Mad River for your family.”
“EJ, you don’t have to …” Angie starts to say.
“No. No. You do,” Laura says. Then she turns to Angie. “Go ahead and let him.”
“He didn’t do anything wrong,” Angie defends. “It was all a result of the gossip and my mama bear instincts.” She turns to me. “You really don’t have to.”
“I really want to,” I tell her. Then I step over, brush a kiss across her cheek and say, “Have a good day. I’ll see you tonight.”
I’m about halfway across the street when I hear Angie tell Laura. “I could get used to this.”
And I think Laura says, “And you should.”