It’s amazing I’ve gotten any women at all.
Shockingly, my dumbass comment does the trick. The goo-goo eyes stop and Cade shoots me a look like he’d forgotten I was even here. Fat chance. Peyton scratches her elbow. “We pick up our electronic baby Friday morning and have to keep it for the weekend.”
And that reminds me of the other reason I stopped by.
Grateful for the shift in subject, I go for my best panty-melting grin and say, “Oh, hey, I almost forgot. A bunch of us are going out to the beach house this weekend. A weekend-long baby-shower–slash-misery-loves-company kind of deal.” I glance at Cade, including him in the invite with strong, strong reluctance. “You’re both welcome to come along.”
Friday’s a school holiday, a teacher in-service or some bullshit, so we have a three-day weekend once we pick up our babies from Coach Stasi. Which means I’ll have close to sixty hours with Peyton if she agrees. Anything can happen with that much time. This is my last shot, so I’m holding out for a miracle here, even if Cade does tag along.
Besides, I have a few tricks up my sleeve.
“What do you say?”
Peyton hesitates. “Well… it would be easier if we’re both there with the baby.” She turns to Cade and explains. “We’re supposed to share responsibility. The babies will be programmed to shut down sometime Sunday, which leaves us just enough time to get over sleep deprivation before exams on Wednesday.” She sighs, like she’s already exhausted thinking of it, and adds, “If a bunch of us go through it together, it might suck less.”
I try not to show how much this means to me, but it’s so damn hard.
Then she says, “While we’re in Galveston, we can also stop by Pleasure Pier.”
This is directed at Cade, and an underlying tone in her voice tempers my excitement. From the way he’s smiling, I know I’ll regret asking... but I do it anyway. “Pleasure Pier?”
“It’s our spot,” he replies, tucking Peyton against his side. “It’s where I took her for our first official date.”
Well fuck my life.
Why can’t anything ever be easy? Just one small thing? I’m working my ass off here, trying to win back the girl I’m in love with and atone for my horrible mistakes of the past, and just when I think I’m finally catching a break, shit like this happens.
Cade brushes a lock of Peyton’s golden hair aside and whispers something in her ear, looking like he thinks he’s won. But I hold tight to what I know:
Cade Donovan may be a good guy, but he doesn’t know Peyton like I do. He doesn’t challenge her. He doesn’t see through the mask she shows the world that hides the scared yet resilient heart beneath. He couldn’t, or she wouldn’t be doubting herself so much. She’d know how amazing she is. That she can do anything because she’s strong, stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. And because she’d be hearing it every damn day.
Everyone knows I’m not good for much, but I was made to love this girl. I’m good for her and I’m good with her. It may’ve taken me three years to fully realize that, but I know it now.
Soon, she will, too.
“I’ll have to rearrange some things back home,” Cade says, his cocky grin implying that this is over. That the weekend will be some kind of romantic weekend escape for two. He should know better than to doubt me by now. “But, sure. We’re in.”
Peyton smiles, although it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Those beautiful peepers are swirling with curiosity and a dash of apprehension. And rightly so.
Horse boy has no clue what he’s up against.
FRIDAY, MAY 30TH
1 Week until Graduation
?Senior Year
PEYTON
GALVESTON BEACH HOUSE 10:52 A.M.
When we get to the Carters’ beach house, Cade makes a scoffing sound in his throat. It grates on my nerves, but I can’t really blame him. It’s the biggest one on the block, not that I expected any less, and of course it’s smack dab in the middle of the ritziest section of Galveston.
But see, Cade is only looking at the surface.
Sure, colorful flowers line the drive, providing the perfect contrast to the mansion’s stereotypical all-white fa?ade. A wraparound terrace and fancy gazebo add that touch of southern sweetness and sophistication. The whole shebang screams money and entitlement and everything I’ve come to associate with Mitch and Annabeth Carter.
But I’ve peeked behind their oh-so-perfect curtain. I know the danger of judging a book by its cover. So as I set my sandal on the flawless, paved driveway, and stare up, up, up to the top of the house, all I can think is that it feels lonely.