Page 82 of Sweatpants & Sweet Tea

With that pearl of wisdom, I walked out and started across the field to the Moore farm. On my way, I was trying to process the bomb that had just been dropped on me. I realized as my feet sank into the grass that all the talk of moving to Sunset Shores after Meemaw passed was a foreshadowing of this announcement.

For some reason, I’d assumed that he was talking about years down the line, and only if his health started to deteriorate. Not weeks or months. Shocked didn’t begin to describe my state. But I needed to backburner those emotions.

Right now, I was on a mission. Possibly the most important mission of my life. This morning I’d woken up knowing I needed to speak to Daphne. There was no way I could let her get on that plane tomorrow without making sure she knew how I felt. It had taken about eight hours longer than I’d wanted it to, but it was better late than never.

As I walked up the steps, I took in a breath and lifted my hand. With nerves exploding like pop rocks swimming in soda in my stomach, my knuckles tapped against the oak front door.

When I heard footsteps on the other side, my heart lodged in my throat. It was going to be difficult to speak over my heart, but I was determined and knew I’d figure it out, write something, do sign language, or interpretive dance—anything to tell Daphne how I felt about her. Determination surged through me when the door opened and I saw Ms. Shaw standing in front of me.

“Well, hello there, Mr. Mitchell. What can I do for ya?”

“I’m here to see Daphne.”

“I’m sorry, darlin’, she’s not here.”

“Did she go down to the bar?”

I knew how convincing Nadia and Zoe could be. It wouldn’t surprise me if the ladies had talked her into it.

“Nope. She went back to California. That’s why I’m here sittin’ with Rhonda. Somethin’ about work.”

“Work,” I repeated.

“That’s right.”

“Okay, thanks.”

I turned and headed back down the porch, feeling all of the adrenaline and determination that had fueled me moments before drain out of me. I pulled out my phone and pressed her name in my contacts. It didn’t ring. It went straight to voicemail. I hung up.

What I needed to say wasn’t something that should be said in voicemail. It was a face-to-face conversation, which was a little bit more difficult since Daphne was three thousand miles away. This was my first taste of long-distance, and although I wasn’t a fan, I knew she was worth it. What we had was worth at least trying. I just hoped she felt the same.

41

DAPHNE

My foot tappedon the polished concrete floor as I sat at my terminal and watched dawn break through the large windows overlooking the airstrips. The inky night sky morphed into a yellow, pink haze as I fought to stay awake.

I’d chosen a flight this early, so I’d have an excuse to stay in a hotel next to the airport the night before. I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving yesterday evening because of my aversion to goodbyes. I lied to Nadia and told her I wanted to spend time with Rhonda. Then I asked Ms. Shaw to come and stay with her since her nurse wasn’t going to be there until Sunday at ten a.m. and I slipped out of town in the dead of night. Well, actually, the dead of the evening, at five-thirty p.m. I took an Uber to Savannah and checked into a motel next door to the airport. Then, I spent the entire night lying awake regretting my decision to make an Irish exit.

There was mainly one person I wished I’d said goodbye to. Never in my life would I have thought that a man in cowboy boots, jeans, and a white T-shirt would make me go weak in the knees, to have me second-guessing everything in my life, to have me wanting things I never wanted, but I was wrong.

As I adjusted my position in the uncomfortable plastic chair and stared down at my laptop, rewatching the date we’d gone on for the twentieth time, I couldn’t ignore the churning in my stomach. The anxiety that was consuming me had nothing to do with the fact that I was about to be rocketed in a metal tube that weighed roughly five hundred thousand pounds thirty-five thousand feet in the air. Honestly, I hadn’t even given the flight any thought. I hadn’t had a drink or had any desire to take a Xanax, not that I had any.

My anxiety had everything to do with the fact that I was leaving the only place that had ever felt like home to me. Not just the town itself, although living in a real-life Mayberry/Stars Hollow/Disney film come to life, definitely had its appeal. It was more than just the town. It was the people that were the heartbeat of the town.

A single tear slid down my face, but I quickly wiped it away. Inevershowed any emotion in public. I hadn’t cried in public since I was seven, and my hand accidentally got slammed in the trunk when my dad and I had been grocery shopping, and he’d loaded the bags. I screamed and sobbed at the excruciating pain, and he grabbed me by my arm and got so close to my face that he spit on me as he told me to shut up and stop making a scene or he’d give me something to cry about.

Looking back through the lens of adulthood, I realize he’d been so upset because he’d been drinking, and he most likely didn’t want anyone to come over and smell his flammable breath, especially since he drove me home. At the time, I was mad at myself for angering my dad. But now I knew that I had fractured my hand and should have gone to the doctor. I didn’t end up getting medical attention until I went back to school two days later. When the nurse asked me what happened, I lied and said that a neighborhood kid slammed my hand in a sliding door because that’s what my father told me to say if anyone asked.When the nurse called my house, my mom backed up the false story.

Another tear slid down my cheek, and I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Exhaustion pulled at me. I was so tired of dealing with my parents’ sins. If I hadn’t been such a people-pleaser who morphed into whatever person I thought my romantic interest wanted me to be combined with my abandonment issues, then maybe Harlan and I would have a chance.

The problem was, I’d promised myself I would not settle again. Ever. I would not change my plans, my goals, or my life to accommodate another person. I felt like I’d had a half dozen Get Out of Jail Free relationship cards, and I’d already played them all.

I was going to be thirty. Was it really a good idea for a thirty-year-old woman to give up her career, move across the country, and change her views on marriage and family for a man? No. It wasn’t.

“Is that seat taken?” a deep voice cut into my thoughts.

Before I even opened my eyes, I felt a shadow fall over my face. When my lids lifted, I looked up and discovered the source of the blocked light. A mountain of a man, at least six foot five, with shoulders so broad his frame completely obstructed the sunrise, stood in front of me. He had thick brown hair and a long beard with piercing blue eyes surrounded by dark lashes. He wore a white t-shirt, leather jacket, jeans, and black boots. He looked like a dark angel who belonged on the back of a Harley Davidson.

---