Page 61 of The Girl He Loves

Chapter 23

Tuesday

The next morningDax and I act like everything is normal. Well, for him maybe it sorta is. He didn’t have any life-altering realizations late last night.

As I hustle Tyler out the door for school, Dax is on my deck Face-Timing a man who I think is his agent. But I can’t hear anything of what they’re saying. Sometimes, a girl’s gotta eavesdrop, or at least try. Even if she does fail.

After I drop Tyler at school, my imagination about what Dax and his agent are discussing goes into overdrive, so I pull into an empty parking lot and do some internet searching.

Bleacher Reporthas a breaking story about Dax’s dad. He’s leaving the Tampa head coach position to be the General Manager of a New York team. The report talks about how they expect Coach Griffin will clean house and start over with new coaching staff as this NY team’s record for the last two years was six and ten. A losing record.

The sports reporter then speculates who will fill the suddenly vacated positions, and Dax’s name is at the top of the list.

Was that what his phone call last night was about? His dad calling him to offer him a job? And now he’s talking to his agent who will work out the specifics of the contract?

The position would make Dax’s career. Should he want a career in coaching, that is. Only, I don’t actually know what Dax wants. I thought maybe he didn’t know either since he told me how he’s felt aimless up until now.

Would I move to New York if he asked? Never mind that I’m not sure he would ask.

I shake my head. No. Tyler’s doctors are amazing, and we’re only at the beginning of the very long process of getting him stabilized. And we’ve been successful so far. I would never want to disrupt that. How long will the process last? No one knows. Everything depends on the information we gather through all the testing. No, leaving the general area is not an option for me.

And just like that, all my fears resurface again. Knowing I predicted this possibility is no comfort. It’s inevitable that Dax will be moving on simply because there are no jobs for him in Daytona Beach. Not unless he wants to be a high school coach or something. That might work in the short term, but eventually he’d want more. He won’t be staying in the area, and I’d better get used to that right now.

Even if he is Tyler’s dad, the man has to make money. The man has to have a fulfilling career. I would never begrudge him that.

It’s like college all over again. I take several deep breaths and get control of my racing thoughts. I will not handle this like college. I’ll see how this plays out.

I nod as if doing so sets my determination in stone, when all I really want to do is run and protect my heart and my child.

After a brief pep talk, I head to work, driving through the post office at the last minute because I almost forgot to drop off the paternity kit.

Moments later, I get an email saying the kit has been submitted and will ship to the laboratory today. I forward it to Justin and his lawyer just in case they want to say I didn’t submit it within the given timeframe.

Now we wait.

And I’m the champ at waiting. I’ve put off luxuries and vacations and so much more as I work to finish school. As I wait for child support checks. I got this.

Inside the boutique, I’m in the back sorting the new inventory and making a list of what needs to be done today when Jayne enters.

“Hello, darling. I brought scones and tea and fortune cookies.” Dressed in a navy-blue leather shift dress with a V-neck, bright sunflower-yellow three-inch heels, her hair pulled into a French twist, Jayne looks the part of a successful businesswoman. A woman whose life isn’t a mess.

She puts her containers on the table next to me. Then hands me a fortune cookie. “Open it. Mine this morning was spectacular. It said, ‘You will find your love today.’ Which I did. Because after I got Cordie on the bus, Stacy and I sexed each other up in the kitchen. That man may approach sex like a mathematical equation that needs to be solved, but damn if I don’t enjoy it every time. Who knew having an orgasm among the carbs would be so glorious. Which is why I’m late, sorry.” She clasps her hands and points to my cookie, eager for me to open it.

Jayne lives her life by fortune cookies. She has a jar of saved fortunes she’s collected over the years. On bad days, she’ll go to the jar and take one out, looking for inspiration or a pick-me-up. Many of her saved fortunes say, Go buy shoes.

“Okay,” I tease. “I’ll open it, but don’t expect any hanky panky between us in the back room.” But even as I say it, there’s not a lot of merriment in my voice.

Jayne laughs, but it doesn’t last long. She narrows her eyes. “You all right?”

I nod and focus on opening the wrapper. “I’m good.” I stop there, not wanting to sound like the loon I did last night.

I gently slide the fortune from between the folded cookie halves. Then I unfold the paper. I read, “Don’t determine the end of the story by the middle.”

Jayne quirks her head to the side. “I suppose that’s decent.”

My response is to burst into tears. So much for being in control.

“I’m sorry,” I say, flapping my hands by my eyes, as if fanning them will make my tears dry up. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

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