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“Woah—I didn’t say that, Paisley.”
“You didn’t have to. But you seem to think I’m stupid enough to go back to someone who made me hate myself, so I might as well be.”
I was choked up on any other comebacks, so my jaw sat slightly open for a moment. My body suddenly was shoved forward into hers, the doors opening behind me to give me a push. Grabbing onto Paisley, I managed to catch both of our footings, hearing my dad chanting some words behind me.
“Joshua, you’re blocking the door, kid, c’mon. What are you two doing in here?” he teases us, waving around a newspaper in his hand.
I couldn’t bear to look at him after what he had just walked into. Eyes glued on her with no remorse.
“Nothing. I was just leaving. Good seeing you, Rich.”
Paisley pries her arms from my grip, running out of the store.
He looks at me, sizing me up with a concerned expression, his lips parting to say something.
“I’m fine.” I stop him, sighing heavily as I storm to the back, heading for the greenhouse, “I need a second.” I announce as I go.
The only thing that didn’t change about me after all this time was my jealousy. When I think about how bad it stings to know he put his dirty face against hers, it makes it worse. I was no better in my past, but it doesn’t matter who the woman is. What seems to matter more is that I don’t want to be like my own father—burned by a woman after dedicating nearly twenty-something years to her.
Sure, he may have worked a lot, but he still does. He likes fishing more than most men, but I don’t see the problem with 232
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that. Still, she found a reason to pay attention to another man who wasn’t even close to the kind of guy my father was. To me, that says it doesn’t matter who you are, big shot or not. Paisley is absolutely stunning in ways that aren’t even physical. She has a personality that feels addictive. If I love it as much as I do, I know someone in London might, as well. This is only further proving that I can’t handle that. Or that I can’t handleher.
I wouldn’t say I like the truth, and even more than that, I hate having to tell myself the truth. My pride has to be broken down into a million shards of thin metal for me to accept reality. If it’s between reality and every fabricated daydream in my mind, the dreams will come in first place every single time.
“Josh, are you all right in there?” my dad bangs his fists against the door, talking from the other side.
“I’m fine!” my heated tone still remains as I sit on an upside-down flowerpot.
In the greenhouse that I made forher.
* * *
My meltdown in the greenhouse was the first in a long time—
much longer than I give myself credit for. I can attest and say it was more than our conversation that triggered it, but I don’t know how to express what’s running through all the sections of my brain, so it gets piled up. I thought I had it handled, but this was all the proof I needed to know that I wasn’t as healed as I thought. Every day, I’m reminded how hard it is to bite your tongue.
I left early, leaving my dad to tend to the closing duties so I 233
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could go home, clear my brain of the rot, and think up some lavish speech for the fair. I was still frustrated that things escalated like they did. Thinking before I speak is something that I’m working on daily as well. Paisley is far from a stupid bimbo. If she were anything relatively close, I wouldn’t be trying so hardto turn this lie we created into the real thing. I believe her about leaving Nick in the car, but it doesn’t excuse him kissing her. He had his chance. She doesn’t need to get caught up in all of his toxicity again.
It doesn’t matter if I’m runner-up or not.
The sun was setting by the time I’d gotten home, and it was getting abnormally chilly for a summer evening. I park the Jeep in my driveway and collect all my belongings before I lazily trail up the walkway. Like always, I check Paisley’s house to see if her family decides to go out for dinner or stay in for the night. It must be nice to have a complete family that does everything together. It’s tense at times, but a whole house is gratifying differently.
Paisley’s dad walks out of the front door, keys in hand. He drops down each step and strolls to his car with little impulse.
He didn’t look interested in being social one bit. Still, when would be a better time to spark conversation? The persona will remain the same, even if I wait. I might as well try to get it over with. Then, I never have to bring it up again, so long as I get my point across. The goal is to get his blessing, but that’s getting ahead of myself.
I had stopped walking, consumed with my decision to talk to him. He was making a nasty scowl at me, and he stopped in his tracks leisurely. I must’ve been staring for longer than I thought.
