Page 5 of Savannah Sweethearts

Ashley: Save my number.

With that, I flung my phone down again. I wasn’t going to watch it all night. I wasn’t going to open myself up for that disappointment, even though it seemed I just had.

“Why am I doing this, Trainer?” My cat, in all her infinite wisdom, did not reply. How smart of her. “I know. All those old feelings came right back, didn’t they? You never met Tyrell, but he was such a gentleman and a hard worker.”

Trainer blinked and stretched out a paw so it was touching my arm.

“Thanks for the understanding. You see, I was sure Tyrell was my forever. Apparently, Daddy did not. Tyrell was ‘from the wrong side of the tracks,’ according to Daddy. He didn’t come from money. But that meant he didn’t have everything handed to him, and he worked hard.” I thought about Tyrell in high school, how he wore old shoes and never had the latest fashions. I never minded riding in his fifteen-year-old compact car because he had earned the money and bought it himself.

Unlike me. When I turned sixteen, I was handed the keys to a brand-new Lexus. It was even the shade of teal I had requested. Life for me had been easy. It still was. I had chosen my father and the life he had given me. And Tyrell had chosen to move on.

Maybe now, though, we could be friends. I missed him. We would tell each other everything. He hadn’t just been my boyfriend, but my best friend as well.

My phone vibrated on the couch. “I’m not checking, Trainer. It’s probably just Morgan again.” I stood and walked around my bed. “Don’t let me pick it up, Trainer.”

Bad cat. She did nothing but flick her ears, which I took as a signal to check my phone. So I did.

Tyrell: Well, well! Glad you found my number. We’ll have to catch up sometime.

The giggle that came from within me exploded out into the air, scaring Trainer. I flopped onto my bed, feet in the air, as I squealed like a teenager. Whatever happened, Tyrell would be back in my life, and I would not mess it up this time.

Tyrell

I would not mess it up this time. She had found my number, which meant she wanted to talk to me on some level. Even if it wasn’t romantic, we could at least be friendly. It would be hard, but I could do it. I read over the texts again, a stupid grin plastered to my face.

She didn’t respond, which was fine. I could take it slow. But I did miss her. When I had graduated from college, I wished she had been there. When Sabra told me the twins might be mine—then they were mine—I wished I had her to talk to. Even though if she had been around, I probably wouldn’t have ever looked at Sabra. The girls were worth the hassle of Sabra Thomas, but I’d be lying if I didn’t wish at least once a year they were Ashley’s and my kids.

The next day I was off work and I didn’t have the girls, so I did what any bachelor would do. I slept in. When I woke up around 10:30, I decided I wasn’t going to waste time. I had already wasted ten years. I wasn’t the same kid who could only afford college on a scholarship. I had a good job; I took care of my kids; I had even coached their peewee soccer team. My hat was officially going into the ring. I texted Ashley.

Me: I know this is last minute, but want to have lunch in about an hour?

I hopped in the shower while I waited. I didn’t want to seem over-eager. Never mind that the phone came with me into the bathroom—or that I made a sudsy grab for it when it dinged a few minutes later.

Ashley: I’m tied up. But I could do dinner. Want to meet at Luck’s? 5:30?

Me: See you there.

I lingered through my shower, neatened up my beard, and put on my favorite cologne. She had been the first to give it to me after we graduated from high school. There was no way I would part with it. Especially not today. The mirror showed a man in his prime, young but wise, intelligent but fun. Not to be arrogant, but I thought I looked good.

Luck’s was where Ashley and I had gone all through high school. I hadn’t been back since, but I passed it all the time. Teenagers still hung out there before their curfews. It was a step above a diner and a step below a steakhouse, hovering in a strange niche we had loved as kids. I tried not to read into what meeting there meant. Perhaps it was just comfortable, familiar.

Just before 5:30, I parked in the lot and realized I didn’t know what Ashley drove. Deciding it would look better if I was waiting at the door, I went to the bench just outside. Ashley pulled up in a small Lexus SUV, newer than the one she had gotten in high school. There was no way to afford it on a preschool teacher’s salary, and I scowled at the thought of her still living off her father’s money.

Mr. Gloss was an investor and business owner. In and of what I’m not entirely sure, but he puts in money and comes out with more money. Because of that, Ashley never wanted for anything. They made her work hard, but in the end, they provided everything for her and her brother. Unlike me, raised by a single mother after my dad died, struggling to make ends meet. I went to school, played soccer, and worked to help Momma with the bills. I was never good enough for Ashley in her father’s eyes.

Ashley approached me slowly. “Hi, Tyrell. You okay?” Her hair rolled in soft waves around her shoulders while sunglasses perched on top of her head. She wore a short-sleeved sweater with jeans, and her eyes were bright as they searched me over. Even casual, she looked like a million bucks.

It took a second to focus on her face. “Yes, hi. Sorry, I got lost in thought.” I stood and wiped my hands on my pants. Did I hug her? Shake her hand?

“I haven’t been back here in years.” Dark eyes looked around the building as she took in the once-familiar scenery.

It had definitely been a long time since it was updated. The same red paint on the door was faded and peeling, but the awning had been replaced since we had last ventured inside. The booths had been updated at some point, but they were still worn. The carpet looked just as ragged as it had a decade before.

When the waitress approached and asked for our drink order, I spoke for us both. “I’ll have a sweet tea, and she’ll have lemonade and tea mixed together.” It was pretty smooth that I remembered her go-to drinks.

Ashley’s cheeks turned pink as she smiled. “You remembered my coffee order and my tea-ade? You’ll make me wonder if you’ve been thinking of me all this time.” While the rest of the world called the mix an Arnold Palmer, she had dubbed it tea-ade, and the name had always stuck in my mind.

“How could I forget?” The urge to reach my hand out to cover hers was strong, so I hid my hands under the table. I licked my lips and felt self-conscious. Was I being ridiculous? Probably. “How have you been?”

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