The Girl I Was Before (Falling #3)(22)

His mom looks between both of us and her eyes haze slightly before she turns to face her son.

“I’m going to pick up a few things. I’ll be done by the time Leah’s ready. I’ll get her to pre-school,” she says, kissing her son on the cheek and glancing at me once over her shoulder before moving down a nearby aisle.

“You’re…married,” I say, my insides twisting the second I say the M word, wondering why in the hell that’s the first thing I asked.

“Not exactly,” he says, his thumbs hooked in his pockets, and his eyes peering down at his feet. He takes a long deep breath, and I take the opportunity to do the same.

“You’re…separated?” I ask, pretty sure that’s not much better. This situation is feeling stranger the longer we talk. I’m pretty sure living like a paranoid-crazy woman in the Delta House is winning the mental address war happening in my head.

“I’m…” he says, stopping for one more heavy breath before pulling his eyes up to meet mine. “I’m widowed.”



Houston



Well, that’s not how I saw this going. But how else could it really have gone? I can’t invite a girl to move into our house just because I think she’s cute and quirky and she makes me feel like the twenty-one-year-old I really am. I lost that privilege the moment I heard Leah’s first cry. And I lost it again when Bethany died.

Paige is looking rapidly from her bag, which is still slung over the chair she was sitting in, then back to me, then to Leah, who is humming while she eats at the counter just behind me. She always hums when she eats. It’s the greatest sound in the world.

“Oh, I’m…sorry,” Paige says, her voice unsure. Nobody ever knows quite what to say. It’s not a conversation a guy my age usually has to have.

“It’s okay. It’s been almost four years,” I say, pulling the bottom corner of my lip into my mouth, keeping myself from over sharing. I can see Paige doing the math in her head. Yes, I’m a young dad.

“Seventeen,” I say. Let’s just get this out of the way.

She looks at me, her eyes pinched. She’s pretending not to understand.

“That’s how old I was when we had Leah. You were wondering…I…I could tell. I’ve seen that look before,” I say.

“Oh, no that’s not what I was…oh…fine. Okay, that’s what I was trying to figure out. So, you had her in high school then, huh?” Paige asks.

“That’s kind of what seventeen means,” I say. I can see her eyes flinch, and I feel badly. I didn’t mean to be snarky or hurt her feelings. “I was being funny.”

“You’re not very funny,” she says back fast. She’s always fast. I know she’s trying to put up a front now, but her comebacks are cute. I can’t help it, and I chuckle.

“So, that thing we were talking about…” I say. I should probably talk to my mom about it, but we had a discussion about the room just last weekend. I know she wants to rent it again. And we could use the cash.

“Oh, don’t worry. I know you were just trying to be nice,” Paige says.

“No, no. That’s not what I meant. I was going to say think about it? Maybe just think about it. I know all this,” I say, pointing behind me to my daughter, who is now singing songs to Sheila. “I know that seems overwhelming, but it’s not. You’d have total privacy. And Leah’s a great kid. I work so much, you’d probably see my mom more than anyone else.”

“I don’t know…” she says, her lips in a hard line. Her shoulders are hunched up, and I can actually see the tension in her neck, arms, and face.

“Paige. I’m asking you to sign a lease. I’m not asking you out on a date,” I say.

That flinch in her eyes from before—it’s back. I know that sounded mean, but I don’t want her getting the wrong idea either. Yeah, I think she’s cute, and flirting feels good. It’s been a while. I like our banter, and having a live-in Spanish tutor isn’t a bad thing either. But she’s, what, eighteen? Maybe nineteen? And I’m a dad. I’m on the seven-year college plan. Paige strikes me as someone who’s driven. I’m a speed bump. And I’m not sure I could ever really be whole for someone else.

“Here,” I say, reaching forward and tearing off a piece of the newspaper. I grab the pen she was using to circle ads, and make note of the fact she’s only circled one—an ad she’s also crossed out.

“Here’s my number,” I scribble it down and hand it to her. She takes it and holds it out in front of her, almost like it’s a lit match. “Think about it, over break. And if you want to move in at the start of the semester, the room is yours.”

I can hear my mom talking with Leah, so I let Paige go. She looks at me a few times while she gathers her things, and once again before she walks out the main door.

“And who was that?” my mom asks. She’s using her nosey-mother tone.

“A potential renter.”

“Uh huh . . . ” She lets her response linger for a while, her eyes scanning me, looking for me to give something more away.

“Stop it. She’s nice, and she’s in need of a new place to live. She said she’d call during the holidays if she decides,” I say.