“Bet I can beat you,” I say, motioning toward the house where her Madden game is still paused. “I’ll even take his sorry ass team.”
“You’re on.”
Peyton steps forward and I use this opportunity to scoop her up into my arms. Her cane falls to the ground, clanking against the patio a few times before coming to a rest. “I can walk,” she says with a bit of bite to her words.
“I’m fully aware of your abilities, but this gives me a chance to feel you next to me, even if it’s only for a few seconds.” No sooner are the words out of my mouth, am I setting her down on the couch. “Do you want anything? Water, juice, a kiss?” I throw the kiss out there, thinking maybe she’d like a little make-out session. I know I would, but I have a feeling it’s still too early for her.
Peyton laughs and cracks a smile. “Kissing is off limits, but water is good.”
“For how long?”
“Water is always good. It’s a necessary staple for survival. I can’t imagine we’ll live to see when water is bad for you.”
“Smart ass,” I mutter as I start looking through the cupboards to see what’s there. “Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?” Despite nothing jumping out at me, the shelves are fully stocked.
“Are you going to make something?” she asks.
I smile and tilt my head to the side so I can see her better. “I will if you want me to.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” I ask.
“Don’t be like that,” she says. “I don’t want you to cater to me because you think it’ll make me happy. Are you hungry, Noah? Do you want to make something to eat or get take-out?” Peyton looks fierce as she gives me the riot act. It’s duly noted she doesn’t want to be waited on. I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop though because I feel like I need to do this for her.
“Take-out it is.” The first thing I do when I pull my phone out is send her a text message. After the fiasco with Dessie, I changed my number. Her nonstop calling grew tiresome, as did her excuses. Telling me she only cheated so I would be happy because she thought she was pregnant when she blurted it out in Peyton’s hospital room. Too bad the messages on her phone told me the truth. She was trapping me into marriage. My dad and Nick say I dodged a bullet. I say I dodged a lot more than that.
I’m in love with you. Someday, you’ll be ready to tell me the same.
I stay back in the kitchen, watching as Peyton opens her phone. From where I’m standing it looks like she’s concentrating, possibly trying to figure out who sent her the message.
Peyton: Stop skulking in the kitchen
“Skulking? What kind of word is that? I’m not skulking.”
“It’s a perfectly fine word for what you’re doing and it’s creepy. Why’d you get a new number?”
Returning to the couch, I set her water down on the table. “Too many unwanted phone calls and text messages. I moved on.”
“Has she?”
Peyton’s question gives me pause, but she’s right to ask it. I can’t expect her to become involved with me when Dessie could be an issue for her. “Has she texted you?”
She shakes her head. “No. In fact, I thought you were still with her.”
I sigh. “Things got ugly. The stuff that she said to her friend… I couldn’t even look at her after I read what I did. I took her phone as evidence in the event she gives birth and tries to pin it on me.”
“Do you think she will?”
“I’m an optimist. Everything will work out in our favor.” I look at her and wink. She holds my gaze for a few seconds, maybe even a minute or so before turning away with blushed cheeks. “I’m thinking Chinese for dinner.”
“Sounds good.”
I place the order quickly and reach for the controller. “You’re the Patriots?”
“Of course,” she says as she scrolls through the many options for her offense.
“Why not the Pioneers?”
Peyton shrugs. “I heard their quarterback has sloppy footwork.”
I try not to laugh, but there’s no use. “Touché.”
It’s been days since I made my intentions known to Peyton, and she’s still keeping me at an arm’s length. I’m fine with it because it means I have to work harder and I’m not afraid to put in the effort. She’s worth it. We’re worth it. However, something has been weighing heavily on my mind, and while her parents know we’ve been spending time together, they’re under the impression I’ve been checking on her, making sure she’s eating, getting to her therapy appointments, all the stuff Katelyn’s worried about.
Not the case. I haven’t left. When Peyton goes to bed, I sleep on the couch. It wasn’t a decision I consciously made, but that first day, which turned into night, we fell asleep watching a movie. I wish I could say a few of my dreams about her turned into reality, but the truth is, we both stayed on our own sides of the sectional. I’m not even upset about it. As much as I’d love to hold her at night, knowing she’s safe and not alone is far more important.