Page 138 of Ripped & Shipped
You’re brilliant, quick on your feet, unafraid, persistent.
You look out for others.
You don’t hold grudges.
You’re one of the most fun people I’ve ever hung out with.
Yes. I memorized every word he said to me. Those impressions have traveled deep into my heart and touched dusty places, long neglected. If I didn’t believe them just a little bit, they would have rattled around and bounced back out. But I know, at some level, he’s right, even if he’s one of four people in this zip code who think so.
The thing is, I can’t let Chris be my anchor. As far off base as Mom has been about men and relationships, she got that part right. A person can’t count on anyone to be their everything. I need to find my own way and place in the world, and then I will more than happily share all that with the soldier who has won my heart for good.
Chris will hopefully be a huge part of my future, whatever it ends up looking like—if he chooses me. But I need to lean on something more than him alone.
I know one thing for certain. I can’t stay in a town where I’m scorned and mocked daily.
After a few hours of outfit selection, packing my makeup and skin care products, and wheeling my suitcases downstairs and parking them next to the front door, I’m ready.
It’s only lunchtime. My flight to LA leaves Columbus at 6:08 pm. Chris insisted he’d drive me. It’s not that I don’t want him to, I’m just so scattered and worn down. My brain feels like an old jigsaw puzzle that spilled out of the box. Some of the pieces are upside down. I don’t even know where they fit. The only corner piece I see is Chris. It’s tempting to fit the rest of my life around what’s building between us. But I know better.
I sit in the front room, staring out the window. Chris is getting some work done today. I have two-and-a-half hours to kill before he gets here.
I call Meg in my boredom.
“St. James Accounting, may I help you?”
“Meg, it’s me.”
“Oh, hey, Ella Mae. How’s the packing going?”
“I’m finished. And I’m sitting in our empty house watching the grass grow from the front room.”
“I hate those last few hours before a trip. I’m either scurrying around like a chicken with its head cut off, or I’m like you, ready and antsy. I wish I could offer you a lunch date to distract you.”
“I know you’re busy.”
“I’m working through lunch so Joe and I can go scout out some venues for the wedding this afternoon.”
“You mean you’re not going to get married out on the MacIntyre farm?”
“Ha! Like Aiden wants to offer his farm to his brother’s ex-girlfriend for her wedding. You know how that goes.”
“Better than most people around here.”
“True.”
“I’m so sick of the ridiculous lines and the sideways glances and the judgmental attitudes, Meg.”
“It can wear on a girl, I’m here to testify.”
She starts singingCan I get a witness?like she’s in the front pew of a southern church. I crack up. It feels good to laugh with Meg.
“Don’t do anything crazy, like relocate to LA, okay? I don’t know what I’d do without you here.”
I sigh so loudly I’m surprised Meg doesn’t comment on it.
“I won’t,” I promise, even though I’m not sure I won’t.
I’m pretty certain I’d never move my life to Los Angeles. When it comes to what I won’t do, everything seems so obviously a definite no. I only wish the next steps as to what I will do were as clear cut.
