Page 139 of Happy Hour

“Uh...yeah...he’s a five-year old little boy who has leukemia.” He told me. “He’s being treated at St. Jude’s in Memphis and I was his wish.”

“His wish?”

His eyes dropped to his lap and his hand ran across the back of his neck. “Well he has leukemia and well he’s dying from it and his wish was to meet me. He wanted to be a race car driver when he grew up. St. Jude Children’s Hospital got in touch with Melissa and asked if I could come out to spend the day with him.”

I didn’t realize I was crying until Jameson brushed the tears away. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He whispered turning me slowly in his arms and linking his hands behind my back. I shrugged slightly, staring at his chest and tracing the light dusting of hair he had there.

Gently he tugged on my waist and my eyes rose to meet his, sighing when I saw his eyebrows rise in question.

“No, it’s okay...I just...there’s always so much sadness around, you know? I just hate that there are children out there that can’t even live to see their dreams come true or fall in love.” I said softly, my arms sliding around his neck, bringing his lips to meet mine, he responded and kissed me softly.

“I know what you mean, honey.” He cradled me against his chest. “I know what you mean.”

I was about to get up when he stopped me, tugging on my hand.

“You could come with me, if you want.” He suggested. “I’m sure Axle won’t mind.”

“His name is Axle?” I smiled thinking how perfect of a name that was for a little guy who loved racing.

Jameson chuckled. “Yeah, it’s cute. He wanted to be a race car driver...it fits, huh?”

“It does.” Sitting on the edge of his bed, I nodded. “I don’t think I’m going to go.”

“But you—”

“No, his wish was to spend the day with you.” I shook my head in reassurance. “That’s what he deserves.”

“Thanks Sway, for everything.” His eyes held mine intently. “For coming yesterday, for last night and this morning...just...thank you. I wish I could tell you how much it meant to me but I don’t think I could without sounding trite.” He said with so much sincerity, it made me start crying again.

Jameson left to Los Angeles and then Memphis so Emma and I flew back to Washington. Emma hadn’t been home to Washington since last winter so she enthused as hell to come along. Though I’d never admit this, I was excited to spend some girl time with her.

Alley was going to come along as well but Lane ended up getting the flu so she stayed home with him.

I wanted to be in Daytona this weekend with Jameson for his race, but his schedule was packed that weekend and wouldn’t allow much time for me anyways. So I just decided to fly home when he left to California. It’d also be good for me to see Charlie again and Emma was anxious to see the crazy guy as well.

The only problem with Emma coming along was entertaining her in Elma Washington. We didn’t have much there to offer a crazy shopaholic. No malls, no fancy department stores, hell, we barely had a grocery store. All of this meant I had to take Emma to the mall before we made it to Elma.

She insisted on the Tacoma Mall...I’m not sure why anyone would want to go to the Tacoma Mall but alas, there we were walking into every goddamn store they had while she bought shoes, dresses, and god knows what else.

I had a hard time focusing on anything between Emma whirling around me, texting Jameson, thinking of Jameson, missing Jameson, and wanting to be with Jameson. I didn’t get nearly enough alone time with him that I wanted. I was a pathetic pigizzle.

The thought of calling myself a pigizzle had me laughing while I enjoyed my iced mocha and followed Emma around, who was once again, trying on another pair of god-awful red boots. Where she would wear those was a mystery to me. But when she said that Aiden had a fantasy with her in red boots I ran away to the pretzel stand.

Quietly enjoying my buttery salty goodness, Emma came skipping back with another bag fromMacy’sand plopped down beside me on the bench.

“So...I...made us an appointment.” She whispered looking the other direction, avoiding eye contact.

There’s one thing you need to know about Emma, when she knows you’ll disagree—she avoids eye contact.

Forcing the little shit to look at me, I grabbed her face. “What kind of appointment Emma?”

I had to ask because when we were in high school she once made as appointment for us to get our...let’s just say they’re some things even close friends don’t do together, I don’t care howcloseyou are with them. A line needs to be drawn. I now had a line and Emma was sure to step a foot over it any time she saw an opportunity.

“Justwaxingthatsall,” She said quickly, her words scrambling together in her rush not to reveal.

“Come again?”

“Waxing,” Emma replied through squished lips and my firm hold on her.

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