Page 126 of Doctorshipped
“You taught Rob to pick up his socks?” Lexi asks.
“I’m not saying I taught him, but he knows he needs to if we’re going to have a happy marriage.”
Shannon laughs. “I can see it now. Bedtime. You two are in bed. Rob’s getting all frisky. All signs are leaning toward some marital bliss in the bedroom. Rob’s leaning in for a kiss, and hoping for more. You roll over, turning your back to him. He says, ‘What’s up babe?’ trying to use his smoothest moves and that particular tone of voice he knows gets you every time, and you shut him down, saying, ‘Not tonight, Rob. You missed the hamper.’”
The room erupts in laughter.
“Well, that’s one way to teach them.” Laura says. “His mom is horrified that it’s even an issue. I’m not sure if she’s more horrified that he doesn’t pick up his socks, or that I make it such a big deal.”
“And, Shannon, who even says frisky?” Lexi asks through residual laughter. “Who are you, my memaw?”
We laugh some more.
Shannon looks over at me and mouths. “Married life. It’s your future in bright lights.”
Is it? The thought of marriage would have petrified me a year ago. I was so staunchly opposed to the idea of me entering into anything remotely romantic. Tonight, a life-long commitment feels more like something I hope might be in our future.
Besides, I’m pretty sure Grant picks up his socks.
38
GRANT
Let her in, Grant.
I’m considering my dad’s parting words at the airport while strenuously pedaling my bicycle down country roads this morning. Fiona’s with Hazel for the day. They're doing “girl things.” I’m grateful for the women in my daughter’s life. They at least partially fill the hole left by Margot.
Let her in, Grant.
Dad’s last words before he turned to board the plane run through my head on repeat. He said, “Jayme’s very good for you—a sort of yin to your yang. The way you look at one another tells me everything I need to know. You’ve got what it takes to go the distance together. But you need to open up. She deserves to hear your story. Let her in, Grant.”
Aspen and maple trees flank the sides of this dirt road. Reds, yellows and oranges paint the foliage and cover the ground below. The low wood fence runs the length of the road making the whole view worthy of a fall-themed postcard.
I breathe in a deep breath and push harder.
I’ll let Jayme in. I will. She deserves it. I want to risk sharing everything with her. I never dreamed I’d find someone who’d make me willing to revisit the past. But, for her, I will. Dad’s right. I can trust her. And I need to.
I push myself, pedaling until my lungs pinch with each inhalation of brisk air, and my breathing becomes ragged from exertion. When I reach home, my legs have that drawing pain that follows a good workout. My mind is determined, and my heart lighter.
I spend the day missing Fiona’s chatter and Jayme’s sweetness. I read some journal articles, file a few insurance claims, and make myself a reminder to hire a receptionist who could double as my assistant and bookkeeper.
Five o’clock finally arrives. I drive to Aiden’s farm, eager to see Jayme, and, if I’m honest, a little nervous to spend an evening with her closest friends.
Jayme’s standing in the driveway waiting for me when I pull in. Her eyes light up when she sees me, and all my nerves settle.
I step out of the car and we walk toward one another. “I missed you,” she says before I have a chance to say the same.
I pull her in for a hug and then bend to place a soft kiss on her lips. She smiles up at me.
“Did you miss me?” she asks.
“You have to ask?”
“Well, you didn’t say it.”
“I missed you. I was bored out of my mind with Fiona gone. The house felt empty without her.”
“I was just writing, and I worked a few hours at Ox Cart. I could have come over. Next time, call me. I can bring my laptop to your place and write while you do doctor-y things.”
