I should probably sweep soon. It’s apparently filthy at rock bottom. There’s dust under the coffee table and what I think might be an old sock under the couch.
He opened up, told the truth, all of it, even the ugly parts I asked for, and I shut him out. I let him go.
As painful as our conversation was, I’d rather have it a hundred times over day after day than see that cold, empty look he gave me when he left.
Gavin is the one person I’d do anything not to hurt; he’s also the one person I know would never cause me pain on purpose.
So why do we keep destroying each other?
I’m still contemplating this when I peel myself up off the floor and make my way toward the knocking.
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” I call out, assuming it’s Robyn on the other side of the door. I texted her and Dallas both that I needed to talk ASAP right after Gavin left and upon checking my phone, I realize it’s been nearly enough time for the drive from Dallas to Amarillo. Jesus. That was a good chunk of the afternoon I spent on the floor.
I’m a bit surprised when I pull the door open to find Liam and Mrs. Lawson on my porch.
“Well, hey there, y’all,” I say, forcing myself to sound less dead than I feel. “Come on in.”
I step aside, pulling the door completely open. They do come inside but only just barely.
“Hi, sweetheart,” Mrs. Lawson says, giving me a hug and enveloping me in her potent rose-scented perfume. I love the woman, but she’s like a walking potpourri dish.
“Hi, Mrs. Lawson. Everything okay?” I glance down at Liam, who looks somber and maybe a little sleepy.
“Oh everything’s fine,” she tells me in her singsong voice. “It’s just that I’m having my monthly bridge club dinner and Liam here has had just about enough of old ladies gossiping, I’m afraid.” She smiles down at him before whisper conspiratorially to me. “You know that Mrs. Emerson from Atlanta, she moved into the old Johnson house on Lane Avenue? She’s got the best stories,” my neighbor continues without waiting for my answer. “She can’t make a decent thumbprint jelly cookie to save her life but it’s worth inviting her for the stories.”
Her gray eyes twinkle with excitement and the promise of more gossip so I do Liam and me both a favor.
“Actually I was getting pretty hungry and thought I’d grab a late supper in town.” I decide it’s best to give Liam a choice instead of making him feel like he got dumped off on me. “I’d love some company, Liam, if you’re interested.”
His eyebrows lift and his eyes perk up a little. “Um, okay. That’d be okay, I guess.”
“I can pick him up once the ladies clear out,” Mrs. Lawson tells me, but I wave her off.
“He can spend the night here if he’d like. Dallas’s room is empty and I have sleeping bags if he’d like to camp out here tonight.”
It’s like I said a magic word. Liam lights up like I just told him I had the Golden Ticket or a secret entrance to Hogwarts in my attic.
“What do you think, Liam?” Mrs. Lawson looks at him expectantly. “Want to camp out with Miss Dixie for the night?”
As if he realizes he’s been too obvious with his excitement, he shoves his hands into his pockets the same way Gavin does when he’s trying to pull himself inward. “Whatever.” He stares at the floor and I check for an outline of my body in the dust.
Not seeing one, I escort Mrs. Lawson to the door and tell her I’ll call her tomorrow. She thanks me and leaves, making her way much more agilely down my front porch than I would’ve suspected she could.
“So,” I begin awkwardly, once she’s gone. “Do you like waffles?”
Liam shrugs. “I don’t know. Never had ’em.”
I’m careful not to react to this even though it outrages me. I remember learning that Gavin had never had ice cream before when we were kids and feeling the same type of disgusted disappointment that any adult would allow such a travesty as denying the delicious joy that is ice cream.