Paige Rewritten (23 page)

I look at my Bible on the bedside table and pull it over, smoothing my hand across the leather cover.

“Lord,” I start, praying out loud tonight. “I need some direction here.”

A few months ago when I was so overwhelmed with everything, I took a day off work and spent the entire day reading the Bible, praying, crafting, and watching mindless TV while I thought about my life.

Maybe I need another one of those days.

It isn't that I am overwhelmed necessarily though.

I'm just not content.

Every day I wake up, take a shower, go to work, pay bills, answer the phone, go home, eat dinner, go to bed, and do the same thing all over again the next day. I have a boyfriend, but I don't. I have a best friend, but she's distracted with getting married. I have a sister, but I don't know her anymore.

I have a list a mile long to be thankful for and a list a Post-it note's length of what I've done with my life that has made a difference in anyone else's life.

I'm stuck.

I sigh and look at my Bible again. Maybe this is one of those moments when the first verse I read when I flip open my Bible to some random spot is going to be like the words written in the sky just for me.

I carefully balance my Bible on its spine and let it fall open. It opens to Daniel chapter 4.

“All this happened to Nebuchadnezzar the king.”

Well. That did not help me very much.

Chapter

17

S
aturday morning, there's a knock on my door right as I finish putting my makeup on. I'm planning a day of cleaning, grocery shopping, and working on this little hat I found online to make for Claire — a busy day before the youth group end-of-the-year party tonight. I walk through the living room and peer through the peephole.

It's Luke.

Again.

I open the door, trying to push the annoyed look away and aim for something a little more curious, just to be polite.

“Luke.”

“Hi, Paige! I'm glad you're home.” He's all smiles and dimples and sweetness, holding a paper sack from Starbucks with one hand and a drink carrier with two coffees in the other hand.

Apparently we have started some kind of Saturday morning tradition. At least I'm dressed decently and have some makeup on this time.

“You look beautiful!” he says exuberantly. “Can I come in?”

I've already had coffee this morning and I was considering the half and half I poured in there to be my breakfast. But I can smell the sweet bread smell coming from the sack, so I let him in, already disliking him because he knows my weakness for bread and doughnuts.

He makes himself at home at my kitchen table, setting out coffees and napkins. He opens three of my kitchen cabinets and finally pulls out a plate, goes back to the table, and sets three old-fashioned chocolate doughnuts on the plate and two of those artisan breakfast sandwiches.

“What are you doing?” I ask him finally, still standing in the living room.

He looks up at me and waves to the table. “Breakfast,” he says, like we do this every day. “I didn't know if you'd want the doughnut or the sandwich, so I just got both.”

I can't decide if that is kind or presumptuous.

After all, we aren't dating. We are hardly even friends.

“Luke,” I start, taking a deep breath and crossing my arms over my chest.

He holds up his hands. “Breakfast is getting cold. Let's pray.” He doesn't wait for me to come over there but ducks his head and tucks his hands into the pockets of his straight-cut jeans. “Lord, thank You for this food and for this time with Paige and may You bless our conversation. Amen.”

I just look at him after he finishes praying. I haven't heard him pray in a very long time.

He's holding one of the chairs out from the table and I sigh and go sit in it. “Thank you for breakfast. But Luke, you really can't — ”

“Starbucks has just really done a great job on these sandwiches,” Luke interrupts before I can tell him that this is not going to become a weekly occurrence.

“They have, but Luke — ”

“And this cheese … gouda, right? It's amazing! I don't even know what kind of animal makes gouda cheese, but I like it just the same.”

I sigh. He's not going to accept what I say even if I say it a million times. “I think that would be a cow, Luke.”

He nods. “I figured. Just didn't know if the name was a veiled reference to goats or something.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask him as he takes a sip of coffee. I try mine. It's a caramel-laced mocha and it's delicious.

He looks at the table, at the food in front of us, and then up at me. “Eating breakfast?” It's a question.

“Why are you eating here? Again?”

He shrugs. “I like eating with you. I miss when we would hang out all the time and talk.”

He seems to forget that we were doing those things because we were
dating
.

It's a new era, buddy.

“Luke,” I start again.

“Paige.” Luke's voice is suddenly very serious and he looks at me, dark eyes sober. “I know what you are going to say.”

“What?” Maybe if he hears it from himself, he'll get the message more.

“Look, I messed up. I know I did. I let you down, I hurt you, and I'm so sorry.” He pauses and reaches for my hand, sorrow filling his expression. “So very, very sorry.”

I just look at him.

“I can't change the past, but I can change the future. And I've grown up. I have. I know what I want now.”

I'm scared to find out what that is.

“I want
you
, Paige. I want you back in my life. I've changed, I swear I have. I'm back in church, back reading my Bible, back to trying to walk with God.” He lets go of my hand and looks away for a second, which is good because controlling my expression for so long has made the muscles around my mouth start twitching.

I pull my hands into my lap and take a deep breath. My stomach is trembling, my heart racing.

He rakes his hands through his hair. “Look, I know that you've been seeing … what's his name …”

“Tyler,” I supply, feeling a little miffed that he can't even remember his name. Luke spent an entire lunch with us after all and usually manages to sit around us at church. You'd think he would have learned Tyler's name.

“Right.” Luke shakes his head slightly. “I know you've been seeing him. But I haven't heard if y'all are exclusive or anything yet. And this is coming from just a casual observer of you guys, but you don't seem too … excited to be with him. I mean, I remember when we were first dating. I could hardly hold a fork because I was so busy holding your hand the entire time we were together.” He shrugs. “You guys don't even hold hands in church.”

He's right about the early days of me and Luke. I remember when it started becoming obvious that we were both attracted to each other. He sat beside me one night at his house when I came over to watch a movie with Layla, reached over, and wove his fingers through mine.

If shivers running up and down your legs and into your lungs could kill someone, I probably would have died that night.

I shake that thought away.

“I'm just saying, you just don't seem … happy. You seem …” His voice trails off again and he sighs. “You seem a little discontent.”

Luke has always been able to see right through me.

“I don't like seeing you like that.” He reaches for my hand again, but I quietly weave my fingers together in my lap and he nods, laying his hand on top of my clasped hands.

“I just want you to think about this. Okay?” He looks at me until I meet his gaze and then he stares so strongly into my eyes that I feel my right retina start detaching.

“Fine,” I manage to whisper, since he's obviously not going to leave without an agreement from me.

“Thank you. I'll leave the rest of this.” He stands, picks up his coffee, and walks for my door. “Just … think about it, Paige.”

Then he walks out, leaving me sitting at my kitchen table looking at a latte, three doughnuts, and a bacon breakfast sandwich.

I have lost a little weight since we were dating. Probably due to all the cheese stick dinners. Maybe Luke is trying to plump me back up.

I sigh into the empty apartment and rub my temples, squeezing my eyes tight.

Lord, I really didn't need that today. Don't I have enough to think about?

The youth group party is at a huge park sort of close to my church. I drive down the street, trying to find a place along the curb that doesn't involve too many parallel-parking maneuvers.

That wasn't necessarily my most shining moment in driver's ed.

I finally find a spot big enough for me to creep up between the two cars and just stop rather than having to do the whole forward, backward, forward, and then backward again thing.

The park is already a mess of people and I'm fairly early. Rick asked all of the leaders at the last leaders' meeting to try to make it here about ten minutes before the start so we could help get things situated.

Rick is busy setting up a couple of tables to put food on. There's a huge grill we're borrowing from the church set up and already turned on to cook some burgers. I stopped by the store on my way here and picked up a few bags of chips and a couple packages of Oreos.

I leave one bag of each in the car. I can go get them if we need them and if we don't, then I'll eat them.

I am selfish when it comes to Oreos.

Natalie is here. She has Claire in the wrap thing again and she's busy pointing out directions of where to set up a volleyball net they brought to two of our high school boys. Another couple of kids are setting up a horseshoe throw and still a couple more are carting bags of ice from Rick's truck over to a massive cooler.

I get out of my car, trying to push all thoughts of Luke and his little talk this morning out of my head. I barely got anything else done all day, I was worrying over it so much.

“Hey!” Tyler is suddenly beside me, grinning sweetly at me and reaching for the chips I'm carrying. “How was your Saturday?”

“Oh, you know,” I say, trying to shrug the question off. “How was yours?”

“It was fine. I ended up working a half day.” He sighs. “I'm very ready for these presentations to be done.”

Rick waves us over. “I've just been informed by my beautiful wife that I am not allowed to cook the burgers tonight.”

Natalie is crunching on a carrot stick, nodding. “He burns them. I like my burgers juicy.”

“I was raised here in this great state of Texas to burn my burgers and a charred burger is what I'll eat,” Rick says, hand over his heart.

“I'll cook them.” Tyler shrugs. “I'm all about the moist burgers.”

“Ew. Do not use that word,” Natalie says, gagging.

“Burger?”

“
Moist
,” she whispers, making a terrible face. “Oh, I can't hear that word without feeling like someone is poking the back of my ankles repeatedly with a corn-cob skewer.”

I grin. “Not to be dramatic or anything.”

“I'm never dramatic.”

“Never.” I roll my eyes at Natalie. Right then my phone buzzes in my back pocket and it's a text. From Preslee.

H
I
P
AIGE, QUICK QUESTION
. I'
M IN
D
ALLAS TONIGHT DOING SOME WEDDING SHOPPING
. I'
VE GOT TWO MORE PLACES TO GO AND IT
'
S JUST GETTING LATE TO DRIVE BACK TO
W
ACO
. C
AN
I
STAY ON YOUR COUCH?
Y
OU WON'T EVEN KNOW
I'
M THERE
.

I sigh and look at Natalie. “I'll be right back.” I walk over to a tree so I can be frustrated in private.

How am I supposed to respond to that text?

If I say, “Sure, Preslee, come on over,” then I have to spend the evening awkwardly tiptoeing around my apartment and all the baggage that will be piled everywhere, thanks to our past.

But if I say, “Actually, I don't think that's a good idea,” then I have to spend the evening sliding around on my guilt complex that will be spilled all over my house.

And it's not like it's six hours to Waco.

I sigh but it comes out more like a growl.

“Full moon tonight?” Justin, one of my favorite kids in the youth group, is suddenly standing behind me.

“What?”

“You just sounded like a … never mind.” Justin shakes his head. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” I say shortly, flashing him a quick “please leave me alone” smile.

“Sure,” he says and walks over to join the quickly multiplying mass over by the food tables. About ten guys are playing a pick-up basketball game on the court, and a few girls are tossing a Frisbee around.

I look down at my phone and chew on the inside of my cheek.