I didn't yell. Not just because it would draw Grams and J.T.'s attention. I didn't yell because this was all my fault and yelling at my mother wouldn't fix a thing. Her lower lip would start to tremble and her soft eyes would fill with tears.
She wasn't manipulative. Not really. It had taken me a long time to understand that she truly believed my father would make everything right despite the fact that he almost never did.
And honestly, who was the fool here? The woman who’d been happily married to him for over thirty years or the one who'd handed over her dreams and somehow expected this one time her dad wouldn't let her down?
Yeah, I knew the answer to that question. Sheree had chosen her delusion and lived happily inside it. I'd stepped out of my comfort zone for mine and reality had torn it away.
Still, I had a little hope. If Sheree was here, then my dad would probably show up eventually. I might go easy on my mom, but with my dad, I could take a more direct approach. There was always a chance he was going to come through.
Later that night, J.T. and I lay in the double bed in my small apartment over the bakery, my head on his T-shirt-covered shoulder, his fingers in my hair, tugging at my curls.
“What was up with you and your mom?” he asked. “She seemed extra squirrelly.”
For just a second I was tempted to tell him everything, but I couldn't bring myself to admit how stupid I'd been, even to J.T.
“Nothing, I was just annoyed that she wouldn't tell me where Dad was.”
“I thought they were in Charlotte.”
“Apparently not. Mom decided she wanted to winter in Florida.”
J.T. laughed, the rumble familiar under my ear. “Why didn't we think of that?”
“Right? Silly us working our asses off going to school and running a business when we could've been hanging out on the beach. Too bad we have all those bills to pay.”
J.T. tugged a curl, drawing my eyes up to his. “You gonna tell me why you've been working so hard?”
I rolled into him, wrapping my arm around his chest as I tried to think of an answer he'd accept. I had nothing, so I went with option two—a counterattack. “Are you going to tell me where you're staying when you don't come home during the week?”
As expected, J.T. didn't answer. It hurt my heart that he didn't trust me enough to say. That after all these years he didn't know deep down that I loved him no matter what. I'd always loved him and I always would. There was nothing he could say or do that would change that. But I couldn't make him believe. I had to hope he’d tell me when he was ready.
At a stalemate, J.T. changed the subject. He tugged another curl before he said, “You should go out with Royal.”
“Are you kidding me?” I pulled away and rose up on my elbows. “Going out with Royal is the last thing I should do. First of all, he’s not serious. I don’t have time to waste on some guy who just wants to get laid.”
“Getting laid wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, Daze. I've heard it's nice.”
“Like you don't know,” I muttered under my breath.
“I'm starting to think you don't remember. It's been so long I think you've got cobwebs in your vag.”
I poked him in the ribs right in his tickle spot, and he flinched away, laughing. “I'll have you know my vag is in excellent shape. I'm just taking a break from sex.”
“Is that what you're calling it? A break? When was the last time you slept with anyone who wasn't me?”
I flopped on my back and stared at the ceiling. “I'm not going out with Royal,” I repeated.
“Why not? Every single woman in town—and half the married ones—would kill for the chance to get a date with Royal Sawyer. He’ll ask you again. Why not just say yes? What harm could it do?”
“He reminds me of my father,” I admitted, turning my head to look at J.T. He looked back at me in confusion.
“What? How the hell does Royal remind you of your father?”
“It's all that charm. I bet he flashes that smile and gets whatever he wants. I don't have time for a man like that. One in my life is more than enough.”
J.T. stared up at me, his eyes sad and serious. “Daze, I love you. You're the best woman I know aside from Grams, but sister, you have got some issues. Every charming man is not your dad. And if you look at Royal and see Darren Hutchins, I don't even know where to start with how wrong you are.”
“You're one to talk about issues,” I said lamely, feeling like we were thirteen again. “You don't even know Royal.”