“Even if ya’ll are on the right track, you’ll get run over if ya just sit there.”
~ Maggie Calhoun
“Do you want to see some pictures?” Travis spoke loudly to be heard over the music and drunken conversations happening around us. The Tipsy Cow was packed, and I could barely hear him.
“Sure.”
He eagerly pulled out his phone, his face beaming with pride as he pulled up photos of his daughter. “She changes every day,” he said as he handed me the phone.
I took the device and scrolled through the pictures of his newborn baby girl. I had to admit, she did look different than she had when I’d seen her at the movie premiere the first night I got back.
It had only been a month, but it seemed so much longer than that. My schedule consisted of going to PT Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays and restorative yoga on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The class was beneficial, which was the only reason I went. But I made sure to show up a minute or two after class began, and I was the first to leave after namaste.
I didn’t trust myself to speak to Olivia. The last time I had, I’d told her she was magic. I hadn’t meant to. But when I’d seen the look in her big hazel eyes, so vulnerable and raw, I’d just said it and it had left her speechless. It was like she’d expected me to say something rude. Which I guess I couldn’t blame her for considering my actions over the past nearly twenty years. But seeing her reaction had only made me want to go over and show her, not tell her, what I felt for her even more than I’d wanted to before.
So when she’d shown up on my doorstep the night after that first class, and nearly every day since, I hadn’t allowed myself to answer the door. I knew it wasn’t the most mature way to handle the situation, but since I was scared if we did speak, I’d confess my feelings for her and cross lines that couldn’t be uncrossed, I figured it was the best way. For both of us.
Since coming home, the only other people I’d talked to were my brothers, my parents, and Jake during PT. Other than that, my social life was nonexistent, unless you counted the Golden Girls and Mr. Rogers. It had gotten so bleak that I may or may not have started DVRing Sunset Bay and spending my evenings with Alexis, Trent, and the nurse Deidre, who I was fairly certain might actually be his wife who had been presumed dead but who had actually just gotten amnesia after getting in a disfiguring car accident and having reconstructive facial surgery.
That was the theory I was pondering when Bentley stopped by and insisted I come out for a drink. I figured it might not be a bad idea.
“She’s beautiful!” I handed Travis the phone back as Bentley returned to our table carrying three shots of Jägermeister.
“I’m so glad that I finally got your ass to leave the house!” Bentley announced loudly as he set the shot glasses down.
“Shots?” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d drank more than a beer. I looked at Travis, who appeared to be about as excited as I was over the prospect of drinking them.
“Hell yeah, shots!” Bentley lifted up his glass. “To good friends, old times, and new memories!”
Travis, and I followed suit and lifted our glasses, clinked them together in cheers before tapping them on the table for good luck and downing them. The sweet, saffron flavor of citrus and licorice slid down my throat.
As soon as we set the glasses down, Travis yawned.
“Are we boring you already?” Bentley teased.
We’d been at the bar for a little more than an hour and this was the third time I’d noticed that Travis had yawned.
“Man, I don’t remember the last time I slept more than three hours straight.”
It was so strange that my friends were all settled down and starting families. I’d been so wrapped up in my career, I’d barely noticed. But now that I was back in town, I was beginning to wonder if they’d done it right. I’d put everything into my career, and for what? What did I have to show for it?
“I don’t know how my parents did this nine times.” Travis shook his head and took a swig of his beer.