Chapter 22
JORDAN
I take the stairs up Paige’s porch two at a time, holding her laptop. She texted me this morning when I was on my way to work, telling me she was working from home today and wondering if she left her laptop in my car. She had. After a brief phone call with Rob, he assured me that he had things covered at work. I quickly made a U-turn back to Pine Lakes and headed straight for Paige’s.
I haven’t seen Paige since we held hands last Friday. I expected there to be awkwardness between us, but fortunately, our text conversations since then have been our usual lighthearted banter. Things seem relatively normal again. If I can just get myself to stop thinking about the way she looked after we pulled apart on the couch or the feeling of her soft fingers between mine and how they set my body ablaze, then we’ll be well on our way back to normalcy. After last Friday, I recommitted myself to my promise. I was not going to worm my way between Paige and her dreams.
I knock on her door, heart pounding with the excitement of seeing Paige again. I remind myself this will be a short visit. Short, Jordan. Very short.
The door flies open, and Missy shuffles onto the porch with a harried expression. “Oh good.” She looks at me with relief before biting into a bagel, holding it in place with her teeth while rummaging through her purse. She pulls out her keys then takes the bagel out of her mouth. “I have to go to a coaching session, but Ji’s at work and can’t come home till noon, and I didn’t want to leave Paige alone feeling the way she does.”
I immediately feel a surge of anger. If Ian hurt Paige again, I will kill him.
“No.” Missy puts up her hand. “Nothing to do with Ian. She’s physically feeling sick.” Missy looks at her watch, worry etched across her brow. “Will you watch after her till Ji can get here?”
I’m halfway through the door before Missy even finishes her sentence.
“Thanks, Jordan. You’re the best.” Missy waves, and her heels click quickly down the path that leads to her car in the driveway.
“Paige?” I call, turning into the kitchen connected to the entrance hallway. I place her laptop on the kitchen counter. “Paige?”
She doesn’t answer. I turn to walk toward the living room and feel a tiny furry body rub against my ankle.
Cabby Cat purrs, and I bend down and pick her up. “Hey, Cabby,” I say, cradling her above my forearm. “Where’s our girl?”
Cabby meows at me, and I give her a scratch behind the ears as I continue my search for Paige.
When I turn into the living room, I find the TV on, playing a scene from Paige’s comfort movie, You’ve Got Mail . A box of tissues sits on the coffee table, and a thin blanket hangs haphazardly off the couch and onto the floor, but I don’t see Paige.
“Paige,” I call again. I wander down the hallway toward her room and see that the door to the hallway bathroom is slightly ajar and a pair of feet are poking out. Worry courses through me, and I quickly open the door all the way to find Paige curled up and sleeping next to the toilet.
Cabby Cat jumps out of my hands and nuzzles her face into Paige’s plush yellow robe. Aside from her robe, Paige’s green-striped PJ bottoms and old Pine Lakes High School T-shirt is all that cushion her from the tiled floor. She looks wildly uncomfortable.
I crouch down and brush a strand of brown hair off her cheek. For a moment, I feel like I’m looking at eighteen-year-old Paige. Her features are soft and unguarded. A shiver runs through her, and I can’t help but think that Paige would feel a lot better if she were someplace more comfortable.
“Paige,” I whisper, pushing gently on her shoulder to nudge her awake.
She moans, and her body rolls and faces the opposite direction, looking more uncomfortable than she did before.
After another unsuccessful attempt, I tuck one arm behind her head and the other under her legs and pick her up off the floor. Paige barely stirs in my arms, her eyes remaining closed.
Cabby Cat flees the bathroom and runs toward the living room, and I follow, laying Paige down on the couch. I pull the flimsy blue-and-gold Berkeley blanket off the last cushion and drape it across her, tucking her in like a child. But while the blanket covers most of her, her bare toes poke out the bottom. I am moving to turn off the TV so Paige can get some rest when I feel something tug the fabric of my pants leg.
“Jordan,” Paige says weakly, pulling at every single heartstring. Her eyes are still closed, and one of her hands has broken free from her blanket, barely grasping me.
I turn around and tuck her arm next to her, pulling the blanket over her arm once more. She grips the blanket and tugs it closer to her body.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, crouching down to her eye level.
“Cold.” Her eyes crack open, showing me a sliver of green. “Very cold.”
A visible tremor runs through her, and she pulls the thin blanket tighter.
“I’ll be right back.” I stride over to Paige’s room and grab her comforter and a pair of her favorite fuzzy socks that are folded in her laundry bin before returning to the living room.
In the short time I’ve been gone, Paige’s shivers have increased, and her teeth have started to chatter. I pull a sock over each of her ice-cold feet and wrap the comforter around her legs before drawing the blanket up to her chin.
“How’s your stomach? Do you feel like eating anything?”
“No food,” Paige moans as she curls into herself. “I’m so embarrassed.”
I almost chuckle. “Paige, it’s me. Why would you be embarrassed?”
“My hair is oily.” Her words slur together.
“I don’t care about what your hair looks like. I’m here to help you feel better. Whatever you need.”
“I know. You’re Jordan… I bet we’d be more than Pop-Its.” Her teeth begin to chatter again, and she pulls further into herself.
I suck in a breath and try not to laugh. Pop-Its? “Did Paige take medicine?”
“You bet. It was very grape.”
Ah, loopy Paige.
I start to stand up, planning to get her something to drink and a bowl just in case, when her hand reaches out, her fingers brushing against mine.
“Jordan,” she murmurs.
“Yeah?” I turn back to her.
Once again, she has her eyes closed. “Please don’t leave me.”
If I hadn’t already decided to stay until Ji gets here, my resolve to make this visit quick would have crumbled at those words. I grasp her fingers more firmly between mine. “I won’t leave you until I absolutely have to,” I say, well aware of the double meaning. “I’m just going to make you some honey-lemon tea in the kitchen, and I’ll be back.”
Paige hums her assent.
When I return with a bowl and some herbal tea, I find that Paige has scooted her body onto two cushions, leaving the third one for me. Her body is curved at an odd angle.
“Paige, you can use the whole couch. I’m not the sick one here.”
“Yeah, but you’re warm. I love warm things.” More shivers run through her, and I pop onto the couch beside her. Out of pure instinct, I gently lift Paige’s head and rest it on my lap. I am fully aware of the pain I’m inflicting on myself right now, but when Paige snuggles into me and her expression transforms from pained to content, it’s all worth it.
A few minutes later, a buzzing on the side table next to the couch makes Paige stir. I pick up Paige’s phone, and Ian’s name appears at the top.
I consider putting the phone on silent and pretending only Paige and I exist in this moment, but I don’t. I made a promise to myself. I will not interfere. I pass Paige her phone. “Ian.”
Paige lifts her head minutely off my lap and pokes her hand out the top of her blanket. She slaps the phone to her cheek then plops her head back down on my leg.
“Hello,” she croaks.
Ian’s voice is nothing but tiny gurgles from Paige’s phone. Paige occasionally responds, and at one point, she laughs a little. I fight against my white-hot jealousy, knowing that Ian could be the one who gets to hear that laugh forever.
A minute or two later, the phone call ends, and she pushes her phone off the couch and snuggles further into my lap.
“Is Ian planning on stopping by?” Yes, I am being nosy. But I also want to know that he’s taking good care of Paige.
“Sort of.” Paige sighs. “He says if he sees me throw up, he’ll throw up. But he’s going to leave some books on the porch for me this afternoon so I can read them while I’m sick. I bet you a hundred bucks they’re books we used to read together in high school.” Her dazed tone is tinged with annoyance.
I’ve known plenty of people who don’t do well around bodily fluids, so I can’t hold that against Ian, but I’m glad he’s making it up to her with a nice gesture. But something in the way she said that last sentence makes me wonder if she’s second-guessing things between her and Ian. I stop my curiosity from prying further and tell myself Paige’s business is none of mine. I don’t need to know.
I glance down at her. She seems more awake now. “Shh. Try to sleep.” I run a finger across her eyelids.
Paige laughs groggily. “I can’t sleep now. Not after you poked my eyelids.”
I chuckle. “I was trying to be soothing.”
“Soothing… like when we held hands,” Paige slurs, eyes heavy.
She is obviously out of it, but that doesn’t stop my whole body from tensing at her words. We both knew we held hands, but Paige saying it out loud makes it feel dangerously real. And it takes all I have not to reach for her hand once more.
“I have an idea. How about you close your eyes, and I’ll sing you a song.” I clear my voice before starting an inspiring rendition of Eiffel 65’s “Blue (Da Ba Dee)” in my falsetto.
Paige’s arm snakes out of her blanket and smacks me in the chest. “No. Anything but that song.”
I laugh. “Do you want to finish You’ve Got Mail ?”
“Yes, please. But can we go back to the part where she’s sick, and Tom Hanks comes to her apartment?”
That makes me smile. “Are we hoping a young Tom Hanks will come over tonight and make everything better?”
She hums and readjusts her head. “Something like that.”
Paige’s eyes flutter open and closed throughout the movie as she fights sleep, but her continuous tremors do a thorough job of keeping her awake. Eventually, I give in to the magnetic pull of Paige, and I brush my fingers through her chocolate-brown hair until her breathing slows into the steady rhythm of sleep.
Soon after, Cabby Cat jumps onto my leg, settling right next to Paige’s head. I alternate stroking Cabby’s fur and Paige’s hair while relishing the warmth of this moment. This is what I want. Suddenly, I want to forget my promise. If the look I saw in Paige’s eyes on Friday night was real, and if she really feels the same way I do, then I want it. I want a thousand more moments like this—the two of us snuggled together with Cabby as we watch a movie.
But how would we ever make that work? I can’t leave Mom. And if I told Paige about my anxieties with my mom and my feelings for Paige, and somehow Paige decided to stay in Colorado for me, then I would take her away from her dreams. I couldn't live with that. She’s never wanted to live in Colorado permanently. From the moment I first met her, Paige made that clear. And now that she’s so close to getting her dream job at Z3, how could I stand between her and the future she’s envisioned for so long? I’ve looked at every possibility, and no matter which choice I make, Paige gets shortchanged. But if there were a way…
For the next thirty minutes, I get tangled in my thoughts as I continue watching You’ve Got Mail with my two sleeping girls on my lap. Paige’s favorite part comes up, and I watch as Joe Fox risks it all and tells Kathleen Kelly that if only… if only things were different… then maybe they would have been together.
And looking at Paige, snuggled against me, I can’t help thinking, If only.