Page 14 of The Girl He Loves

Briefly, I let myself enjoy being close to him, savoring the short, wonderful fantasy.

“I don’t mind carrying you, but if we’re coming up to your car anytime soon, you might want to give me a heads up. If we were headed toward the beach instead of away, I’d assume I was carrying you to your house.”

I startle and put my focus on my surroundings. We’d gone twenty feet past my mom-mobile. My worn-out minivan. Definitely not the vehicle of a successful person.

I point over his shoulder, behind us. “It’s back there. But you can drop me here, and I’ll be good.”

He shakes his head. “Nope. I’m going to drive you home or to the emergency room. I’ll let you pick.” He does an about-face and walks toward the parking lot.

“Mine is the minivan. The blue one.” As if the lot is overrun with minivans. Mine is the only one. I almost add, “With the damaged front panel,” but why point out the obvious?

“Don’t take this wrong, but you’re the minivan type.”

“Every woman in the world would take that wrong,” I say.

“Well, you shouldn’t because you’re the kind of girl that runs a mean carpool, the mom who brings the best snacks, and has a minivan full of kids.”

“You mean the worn-out-looks-harried mom?” I’d long given up trying to compete with the stay-at-home moms. Not that they asked to compete, but I gave myself permission not to do it. Life was too busy for me to sweat those things.

“No, I mean the hot mom that looks good doing everything. She’s the dream, watching her slide out of the minivan with her tight jeans and ponytail. Every guy's dream.”

“Except yours,” I say without thinking.

He stops walking and lowers me to the ground. We’ve reached my van.

“We were kids, Heather. Yeah, I was focused on building my foundation for the long-term.”

“You sound like your dad,” I said. Because this was the repeated message from his dad. “Don’t get serious,” he’d tell me, “Dax has big plans that don’t include settling down.”

I blew him off. Secretly questioning how well he knew his kid when I was the one sleeping with him. Didn’t that mean I knew him better?

Guess not. Because when Dax was making career and life choices, I wasn’t invited into the conversation.

“Let’s not argue, please.” He sighs heavily. “I love that we’ve run into each other. I want this to be a good memory.”

As if spilling beer all over myself and knocking down motorcycles could be a good memory for me.

“Thanks for getting me to my car. I can take it from here.” Truth is, I need him to walk away. I need to get into my minivan and have a good cry. Part of me wants him to take care of me. Part of me wants him to make sure I get home safely and that nothing is wrong with my hip or leg. It's been forever since a man has done that for me. And maybe I shouldn’t want a man to take care of me, maybe feminists everywhere would revolt, but a partner would be glorious. And in my case, that partner would be a man.

But even if I were to give in, I wouldn’t dare give in to Dax. That would be just plain stupid.

I’ll end this day on a positive, for him at least. “I’m glad you sat at my table tonight. I’m not glad that I knocked over four bikes or that my hip is throbbing something awful. But seeing you again is… nice.” That‘s true, but if I’m given a do-over, I’m not sure I’d keep the running into him in the picture.

“Nice? Huh. No one’s ever said that to me.”

I snort-laugh. “Oh, I’m sure you’ve had a lot of smoke blown up your butt since you entered the NFL.”

He chuckles and holds out his hand, palm up. “I guess that’s probably true. I think I might have become desensitized to it. Or accustomed to it. Because you saying seeing me again is ‘nice’ doesn’t feel all that good.”

I point to his hand. “What do you want me to do with this? And I’m not going to stroke your ego. Nice is all I got.”

He jiggles his hand. “I want your keys.”

“Dax, I need to end the night here.”

His gaze meets mine and he holds it, then searches my face. A small, slight smile crooks up one side of his mouth. He drops his hand and says, “Okay, I guess I’m just so happy to see you I don’t want it to end.”

I appreciate his candor. It's refreshing, even if it’s a line.

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