Stirred: A Love Story (32 page)

“Oh. . . hey,” the guy standing in the doorway said. “I don’t normally answer the door, but she’s getting her. . . I’m assuming you’re here for Sage?”

Kenna had Barbies when she was growing up. Garrett remembered them mostly because they were usually in his way or left in the bottom of the tub when he wanted to take a shower. Garrett remembered Barbie had a big pink Jeep, a couple of friends with brown hair, and a boyfriend. Barbie’s boyfriend in real-life form had just come to the door, and Garrett felt like he’d slipped into some messed-up commercial.

He was about to turn around and leave when she walked through the entryway carrying a small purse and wrapping something around her shoulders.

“We’re going to be late if we don’t leave now. Who’s—” Her words fell away as shock registered on her face, and Garrett decided that was something at least. Sure, he’d been hoping to convince her to give them another chance, eat some takeout, and let him take her to bed, but shock was a decent consolation prize. Not exactly, but it was all he had standing there in her doorway looking like a complete fool.

“Garrett.”

“Oh, this is Garrett. Hey man, I’ve heard a lot about you and your family.” The Ken doll extended his hand. “I’m Chris.”

“Chris, you’re the roses.” Garrett shook his hand, not exactly a “pansy” handshake as George would say, but he’d bet this guy didn’t mow his own lawn. His hands were Ken doll hands too, tan and perfect. He had one of those big watches too, the ones that looked like they served no other purpose than being big.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” Chris said, looking to Sage, who handed him his coat.

“Neither did I,” Garrett said, hoping if he engaged, found his sarcasm, maybe they could stand there all night bantering until it was past Ken’s bedtime.

“Babe, we need to get going or they’ll make us wait until intermission to take our seats.”

Babe? They were already to babe? Shit!

“Where are you going?” Garrett asked, obviously abandoning any remaining dignity or pride.

“The theater,” Sage said, gesturing them out the door.

“I’m taking her to see
Chicago
. It’s hard to believe she hasn’t seen it.”

“Yeah, that is a shame. Wait. . . do you like plays?” he asked Sage.

She whipped around and there they stood, the three of them, on the little walkway that led through the grass to Sage’s house. He’d traveled it a few times; usually during happier moments and never once thinking that time might be his last. Had he taken her for granted? Was that a side effect of knowing she loved him first, or was he an asshole? Garrett had a feeling, trying to soften the death stare on Sage’s face, that he was the asshole.

On a huff, she shook her head. “I’m not doing this. Goodnight, Garrett.”

“Actually,
Chicago
is a musical. Although we did love that play
Art
we saw last week,” Chris added.

Right, thanks for the clarification, Ken. I get it. You and Sage have been going on theater field trips for a little while now. Too bad you don’t have a tractor, my man. The lady loves the tractor.

“Do you like the theater?” He followed as she and Chris walked toward his clean black Audi with glistening midmarket rims.
Of course he had rims.

Sage didn’t like flashy unless it was her skirts or her earrings. This guy wasn’t for her. She wanted to breathe, she loved him, not this. . .
Um, good-looking, successful guy who wears a suit well and is taking her out, treating her the way she deserves to be treated?
He heard Kenna’s voice in his head as clear as if she were one of those shoulder devils on Saturday morning cartoons.

“Yes. I love plays,” Sage said, and the night air turned colder. “I like getting dressed up every now and then and going to the theater.”

“You’re not going by yourself?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m here,” Ken doll piped up, apparently oblivious to what was going on right in front of his perfect face.

See Kenna, he’s not too bright. You want your friend dating a dumbass?
he asked the little cartoon devil still in his head.

“So no more bottom drawer?” Garrett’s voice sounded juvenile to his own ears.

“This is bottom drawer. These are my life experiences now.”

He felt the punch and got the message. She was letting him, Barbie’s boyfriend, into her world. This guy was willing and appeared to be kind. He would get to share her light now.

Chris, in an attempt to move things along, beeped his car and the interior light went on. There were some benefits of new cars Garrett liked; mood lighting was one of them. Chris then put his hand at the base of Sage’s back and adjusted the purple wrap around her shoulders like she was some kind of child who needed that extra button done up on her coat.

Garrett wanted to punch him in his perfectly stable face. Instead, he took Sage’s arm and gently pulled her aside.

“Hey, we should get going,” Chris said, a little tense this time.

Garrett held up his hand and hoped the guy knew that meant back the fuck up because he didn’t want to actually have to punch him. After a little eye contact with Sage, Chris left them and waited by the car.

“Why are you here, Garrett?”

He held up the take-out bag as an answer while trying to swallow the huge baseball suddenly lodged in his throat. She smelled so good and her hair had a little sparkly barrette, sort of like the ones Paige wore, but more adult. It held her bangs off her beautiful face, and Garrett couldn’t help seeing that face in the early morning or laughing at him in the sunlight.

This was going to kill him.

She had a date with Chris—flowers Chris. He immediately remembered that night, replayed the two of them standing in the entryway of the house now behind them. He’d asked about the flowers and she’d told him they could stay in the moment, that there was no need to panic or worry about change. Back then, he was supposed to gather her in his arms and tell her he wanted her in that moment and every other moment. Kissing her, back when she softened into his arms, held his face, that’s when he was supposed to make her feel loved. He’d screwed that up royally and now the woman who was once longing, laughter, and sexy fun stood in front of him with shifting eyes as she let out a laugh laced with pain.

“You. . . simply stopped by with Chinese for old times’ sake?”

“I wanted to apologize.”

“Yeah, you already did that last month when I drove you home. All done. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

She turned toward the car and Garrett, having no idea what the hell to do anymore, took her arm again. Sage tensed at the touch and then leaned into him. “Stop. Let go of me and stop.”

“I can’t. We need to fix this.”

She shook her head. “This is not fixable. Let me go.”

“So you can go out with him? I can’t let that happen.”

“This has nothing to do with you. You don’t get to control this. Now please.” Her eyes turned glossy as if he was hurting her. Garrett let go.

Sage straightened, took in a deep breath, and left with Chris, the flower guy, Barbie’s damn boyfriend.

Shit!

He saw the whole thing going differently in his mind on the drive over. He’d somehow thought she’d be sitting on her couch eating ice cream and watching romantic movies. That she would be missing him, wanting him to come and rescue her, to love her back. Garrett climbed into his truck. He should have known better. Sage didn’t need rescuing. She was fine on her own and even though she’d invited him into her world, under her rainbow hot air balloon, he’d been too wrapped up in his own shit to realize what a gift that was.

Starting his truck and pulling away, he didn’t care if things had changed, if she hated him or was hell-bent on spending time with some guy she didn’t love. It didn’t matter that he had two inspections at the assembly plant in the morning or that George pointed out there was some weird shit growing around the base of three apple trees in the orchard. It would all wait, or he’d give it to someone else because the urgency of this made his chest hurt. If he couldn’t figure out how to get her back, nothing else for the rest of his life would work.

Garrett rolled down the window, suddenly needing relief from the stifling air, and scoffed at his thoughts.
Don’t be stupid. Your life will go on and work will continue without her.
He supposed it would. He’d go through the motions and return to the way life had been before she’d climbed into his truck with her glittery skirt, quirky mind, and that look that had made him want more for the first time in his life.

He would be fine, but he would never go back. That’s not how it worked. Good or bad, life moved forward. He’d learned that. Pulling onto the freeway toward home, he noticed the music playing right above a hum from his radio. He didn’t know the song, but it was slow and maybe a little sad. Was slow music always sad? He hoped not. Garrett’s chest squeezed. He needed a plan forward.

Sage was grateful for the darkness of Chris’s car and wondered if it was possible to disappear into the soft leather seats rather than have the conversation that was surely coming.

“Are you all right?”

“Please don’t ask me that. I’m so tired of people waiting for me to be all right.”

“So, you and Garrett are more than—”

“I love him,” Sage blurted out, as if keeping it in was somehow detrimental to her health.

“I see. Do you want me to take you home?”

“No.”

They drove in silence.

“Sage, we can do this another time or not at all. I don’t want to get in the middle of something.”

She put her hand on his. “I’m sorry. I’d like to still go on our date. I want to see
Chicago
and spend the evening with you. I do.”

“But, there’s definitely a ‘but’ coming up.”

She searched for words. “You’re a lovely guy, Chris. You’re funny and we have a great time together. How about I keep the ‘but’ to myself and we enjoy the evening? Can you do that? If not, I totally understand and you can take me home.”

“Are you going to start crying or randomly talking about him during dinner?”

Sage laughed. “No.”

“Okay, then I’m good. The last woman I dated with an ex sort went off the deep end when I ordered an artichoke at dinner. Apparently she and her ex did that.”

“Ordered artichokes?”

He shrugged. “I guess. She had to leave.”

“I think maybe she was crazy.”

Chris laughed. He had a great laugh and a warm, wonderful smile. She wanted to love him as much as she liked him. She wanted to date him, go away for a weekend or two, make love, and settle into a life with him. He was a good man and she could be happy with him. She wanted to be happy. She also wanted longer legs and to be able to eat Indian food without having to take Tums before she even got home. None of that was ever going happen because she couldn’t control where she belonged, where her blind heart wanted to be.

Life didn’t work that way. She loved Garrett. Had probably loved him from the moment she’d met him and had only fallen deeper and messier in love as the years went by. So, as much as she wanted to fall in love with Chris, her heart was already gone.

“I’m sorry for what happened back there,” she said as they pulled into the valet line at the restaurant.

Chris looked at her, his sharp jaw highlighted by the dashboard light. “Don’t be sorry. Can’t blame a guy for fighting for you.”

She shook her head. “He wasn’t fighting.”

Turning his car over to the guy in the red shirt and joining Sage on the sidewalk, Chris put his hand to her back as they walked into the restaurant. “It’s been a while since I’ve groveled, but I think I still recognize the gesture. Poor guy.”

They were seated, enjoyed dinner, and Sage loved
Chicago
. When Chris walked her to the door, she said good-bye and had a feeling it was for good. He didn’t strike her as any woman’s second choice.

Chapter Thirty-Five

S
age arrived home from work a couple of days later to her first rosebush. She received another one every three days until she had eight rosebushes. Each looked like a different type, and each arrived without a note. She didn’t need one, she knew who they were from.

Having worked the lunch shift or evenings, she hadn’t seen Garrett since she’d sent him away and gone with Chris. Of course, she knew the rosebushes were from him, but she didn’t call or text him when they arrived. She loved them, loved him, but instead of telling him, she planted each one in her backyard and allowed the silence. Surrounded by their fragrance, she didn’t want to change a thing, didn’t want to ruin it. As if she could somehow simply continue receiving the gift and let him love her that way, she put a few clippings in water each day. When they dried to muted colors, she put them into the bottom drawer of her nightstand.

The delivery truck arrived at Sage’s house three days after the last rosebush. It was early morning when she heard the hiss of the hydraulics and the beeping as they backed up her driveway. Sage looked out her bedroom window to find a delivery truck, far too large for another rosebush. Ready to tell them they had the wrong address, she put on her robe and ran to the door. By the time she opened it, the tall gentleman in brown coveralls was already there, clipboard in hand.