Page 33 of Endless Southern Love

Yes, I would, but that doesn’t mean I’m forgiving him anytime soon.

As soon as the nozzle clicks off, I don’t bother squeezing for more gas. If my dad were here or even Wade, they’d squeeze until the dollar value is at double zero. I put the nozzle back, crank the gas cap and close the little door, then get back into my car. Nothing irritates me more than seeing people leave their cars at the pumps while they walk into the store. Like, park your car so people can get gas and be on their way.

After parking, I head inside, use the facilities, and then stock up on junk food. Nothing cures a heartache like copious amounts of fat and sugar. Before checking out, I grab a couple bottles of water and a much-needed cup of coffee. I’ve never been one for energy drinks and prefer my bean water to soda.

In the checkout line, I overhear the people in front of me asking for directions to the beach. The question seems foolish since we’re by the water, but I get it. Just because you can see the ocean, doesn’t mean you can access it easily.

However, they give me an idea and after paying for my sustenance, I get in the car and head toward the coast.

The beach solves all your problems. It can drown out your screams and swallow your tears. It’s where you can sit for hours and not move, where no one will bother you because they don’t want to be bothered themselves.

It’s exactly where I need to be right now.

thirteen

wade

Today will go down as one of the shittiest days ever. Nothing will ever trump the day Lemon broke my heart, even though she tried to do it again today. Admitting that she’s jealous of Goldie really stung. It twisted my insides like a pretzel, and nothing is going to set them right again. As much as I want to think Lemon’s being ridiculous, I get it. I would be pretty jealous if she had a child with someone that wasn’t me. I know the day is coming though so I’m trying to prepare myself. Someday, Lemon will walk through town holding the hand of someone who isn’t me, and I’m going to have to accept it.

Even when I don’t want to.

At the end of the day, I drag my tired, sorry, and sore ass up the small flight of stairs to my back porch. It hurts to bend over, but I manage enough to loosen my boots to kick them off. They’re caked in mud and probably manure. They’re not something I want inside my house.

Inside, I hear Goldie laughing. It’s the best damn sound in the world. There are days when I wish I could go back to the beginning to hear her laugh all over again. Each day I was with her, I wished Lemon was there with me, watching this little life grow.

I stand there, watching my daughter and my mom move around my kitchen together. They’re best friends, always cooking together. I know my mom is trying to teach Goldie how to knit, but she might be a little too young for that. My mom always wanted a daughter and thought Lemon would become that one day. Boy did I feel like a total shit when I had to tell my parents I was going to be a dad and Lemon wasn’t the mom.

My parents love Ana though. They treat her well because it’s important for Goldie to see us as a united front for her. She’s everyone’s priority. The last thing I want is for her to grow up and ever think her grandparents didn’t like her mom.

“Daddy!” Goldie squeals in delight when she sees me. I smile brightly and push off the wall, hold my arms out, and catch her easily. “How was work? Did you know we couldn’t go outside because there’s a swimming pool out there now?”

“Work was long and hard, and yes, I know. I was there this morning, or did you forget?”

She shrugs and squirms, so I put her down.

“How was school?” I ask, following her deeper into the kitchen. I dip my finger in the pasta sauce in the pan, on the stovetop. It’s delicious, with the perfect mix of spices.

“It was okay,” Goldie says. “I made you a picture.” She gets down, runs down the hall, and returns before I can start talking to my mom. Goldie hands me a drawing of me, her, and Ana. On the outside, we look like a happy family, which is exactly what we want Goldie to think.

“Who is this?” I ask, pointing to a dog that neither of us has.

Goldie shrugs. “He doesn’t have a name yet,” she tells me as she climbs back onto the chair next to my mom who is rolling out a pie crust.

“Who does he belong to?”

“Us,” she says without looking at me.

Instead of arguing with her about how we’re not getting a dog, I put a magnet over the paper and stick it to the refrigerator. My fingers brush the Magnolia Grove school magnet, and my eyes immediately go to Lemon’s photo, name, phone number, and email address. Under all the necessities of how to get a hold of her is a quote or tag line: Your children are my happiness.

Looking at Goldie, I huff. I should take the magnet to Lemon at the next board meeting and ask her if my child really is her happiness because after today, we know that’s not true. As much as I want to push the memories from earlier out of my mind, I can’t. I kissed her and she kissed me back. To me, that’s very telling on how she feels.

She’s jealous of my daughter though.

Jealousy is such a strong emotion and not one easily overcome. Maybe it’s high time I push Lemon Walsh out of my system once and for all. There has been plenty of interest over the years from other women, but my heart has always been tied to Lemon. I wish I could shut that part of me off, to flip the switch and never have to wonder and long for someone who can’t love me back because of my daughter.

Easier said than done.

“You’re quiet,” my mom says, breaking my thoughts.

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