Page 23 of Just the Tipsy
“Right.” Waylon swallows and fidgets with his watch. The relaxed, happy version of him that I saw just a few minutes ago is gone. “We’ve donated time in addition to the proceeds from thebourbon with sponsoring annual pet adoption fairs and holding the annual gala to raise money for adoptable pets that need extensive medical care. Uh…”
“And you became a veterinarian to help out too,” Delia says.
“Well, yeah. Among other reasons.”
“Very noble.” Delia smiles. “And it’s like you’re still a part of the company, too.”
“Yep.” Waylon pauses, jiggling his leg before looking to me. “Okay, that’s all I have to say.”
“Are you sure? You’ve barely scratched the surface.” Delia frowns.
“We got more than enough material,” I add. Hopefully I can convince Delia to put Waylon out of his misery.
“See? I should start doing some prep for tomorrow anyway,” he says.
Delia looks disappointed, but she just stands up. “Okay, fine. We can do more later.”
Waylon shoots me an exhausted glance and I hope mine radiates sympathy. I’m not the best at being warm but I feel for him. I’ve seen way too many people pressured into shit by their parents and it never ends well.
“Thanks for coming, Mom,” Waylon says.
She lets him kiss her on the cheek, but she’s clearly not pleased. Waylon doesn’t seem to care all that much about her displeasure, though. His jaw is tight with annoyance. I can’t blame him.
“I’m meeting someone for lunch, so I need to go. Rose, I’ll email you about the new floral arrangement idea I have,” she says. “And good to see you, Bianca.”
She leaves and Waylon sighs, leaning against the prep table.
“Thanks for trying to save me,” Waylon says once he pulls himself together.
“It’s no problem. Felt like you needed a little backup.” I want to reach out and touch him, but I hold back.
“I really appreciate it.” He lets out a breath, tension rolling out of his shoulders.
Rose putters around, typing away on her phone, but I stand there with Waylon. I let him think for several moments instead of just filling the air to distract him. He doesn’t seem to be the type who needs to be distracted when he’s dealing with something.
“It’s not that I don’t care about the cause — I really do. It’s just that I don’t want to be the center of attention,” he says after a few moments. “That’s Mom’s thing. And she can’t seem to hold both those ideas in her head at the same time — that I want to be involved but not do the whole ‘perfect figure in town who’s at the center of everything’ thing, you know?”
“I can tell.” I scroll through all the photos of him I took. “But these kitten videos came out really well, if that makes you feel better. I’m sure people will love them and donate.”
“Yeah, it does, actually,” he says, running a hand through his hair again and studying me, his eyes soft. We’re between the exam table and the counter, our bodies inches apart.
He’s usually pretty easy to read, but I can’t tell what’s going on in his head right now. But whatever it is, it’s making me tingle from head to toe. Like he’s actually understanding where I’m coming from in my attempts to help.
I’m not used to that. People rarely get me this quickly.
“Good,” I say with a swallow, looking away from him.
Rose clears her throat and Waylon steps back, avoiding my gaze. His cheeks are flushed.
“We should get back to the office,” Rose says.
“Okay.” I slip away and start to deconstruct the ring light, my face hot. “See you later, Waylon.”
“Yeah, see you. I’ll be by tomorrow to look at the house and all that, if that still works for you,” he says.
“Right. See you.”
He gives me another kiss on the cheek, lingering a little longer than he has to.
