The Taming of the Bachelor (20 page)

I
t was the last week of April and according to the Weather Channel, everywhere in the country was having nice spring weather, except for Montana. No, Montana had snow and more snow, along with a good measure of wind and ice.

Paige was sick of it. She’d had enough. Her nerves were shot, her patience gone. She was finding it increasingly difficult to maintain a cheerful attitude at work.

Customers were noticing, too, asking her if everything was okay. On Monday, Flo told Paige that maybe Paige would be better off not working for a few days than coming in to the diner in such a bad mood.

On Wednesday, McKenna and Taylor stopped by Main Street Diner at the end of the lunch hour, just after the lunch rush had ended. They grabbed a corner booth and peeled off their coats, and couldn’t wait for Paige to join them so they could tell her about Taylor’s appointment at Married in Marietta, Marietta’s bridal boutique.

Taylor opened her purse and pulled out a laminated folder filled with images and fabric swatches, first of her own gown, and then for the bridesmaids’ dresses, for her August 8
^th
wedding.

As they ate lunch, Paige tried to ooh and aah over the coral and pink peony-colored gowns, hoping she sounded appropriately enthusiastic. It wasn’t that the bridesmaids’ gowns weren’t pretty, or that the colors weren’t flirty and summery, but it was just hard to feel fizzy and happy when everything inside of her was so low and blue. “Everyone will have a different color,” Taylor was saying, spreading out the swatches, making it a sherbet-hued rainbow. “What do you like, Paige? McKenna wanted you to pick first.”

Paige managed a smile and pushed the swatches around as if something might grab her, but nothing spoke to her. “They are all pretty,” she said after a long pause, aware that she to say something. “I like them all, and would be happy in any of them. McKenna you pick. I honestly don’t care.”

“I was thinking this pale pink shade for my flower girls,” Taylor said, tapping the lightest pink swatch. “Don’t you think Addison will look adorable in a puffy little dress this color with a sash in cotton candy pink?”

“Addison will love it,” Paige said, continuing to force a smile, feeling increasingly brittle on the inside. When had she become so tense and tired?

“TJ’s the ring boy,” Taylor added. “But I was thinking we should get Tyler involved...if he’d like to be included. What do you think? Would he want to be part of the wedding?”

Paige shook her head. “No, I don’t think that’s necessary. He’s not a dress-up-and-be-on-show kind of guy.”

“Well, I can find something for him to do—”

“
No
! Really. It’s okay.” The words came out louder and sharper then she intended, and Paige winced at her tone. “I’m sorry,” she added awkwardly, trying to soften her voice. “And I do appreciate you trying so hard to include us, but it’s your wedding, Taylor. The focus should be on you, and your family and the Sheenan family.”

McKenna and Taylor exchanged quick glances and Taylor began gathering the fabric scraps and various pattern designs, tucking them back into her folder.

“Paige, what’s wrong?” she asked, sliding the folder into her purse.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Paige said shortly, desperate to take the focus off of her. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t talk now. All she wanted was to get back to work.

But neither Taylor nor McKenna budged. They sat in the booth and looked at her, waiting on her to say more. They were trying to force her hand, but Paige wasn’t interested in opening up. She was afraid if she started talking, she’d start crying and she couldn’t—wouldn’t—do that here.

“You haven’t been you in a long, long time,” Taylor said after a long minute. She reached out to touch Paige’s arm. “And we’re worried about you. We’re your friends, Paige—”

“I know you are,” she interrupted. “And I’m your friend.”

“Then talk to us,” McKenna said. “Let us in.”

Paige shook her head. “I can’t. This is something I just have to get through on my own.”

Taylor looked baffled. “But what are you trying to get through? McKenna said you were stressed out about your house. Is that the problem, and if so, is there anything I can do? Anything Troy and I can do? If you need money—”

“
No
.” Paige flushed. “No, I don’t. Thank you.”

“Or any kind of help,” Taylor added.

“That’s not the problem. Really.”

“Then what is it? You are one of my best friends and I can’t stand to see you so unhappy.”

Paige exhaled wearily, worn out, worn down. “It’s ridiculous. You won’t believe it.”

“Try me,” Taylor insisted, giving her arm a little encouraging pat.

Paige sighed. “I met this guy, we went out for a weekend, and I’m having a hard time getting over him.”

Taylor glanced at McKenna and then back at Paige. “I didn’t know you’d begun to date again! That’s great.”

“It doesn’t feel great. I miss him.”

“Where is he? Doesn’t he live here?”

Paige shook her head. “No. He’s...out of town.”

“Did he like you?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

“Then what’s the big deal?” Taylor retorted. “Go see him. Troy and I are in a long distance relationship and we’ve found a way to make it work.”

I
t was almost eleven when Dillon left the office Thursday night. He’d worked late tonight since tomorrow he’d promised friends that he’d meet them for drinks after work on Rainey Street at Container Bar. They’d insisted he come out after work for Happy Hour, worried that he was too isolated since returning, and putting too much pressure on himself to save Tutro.

To keep them from nagging him, he’d agreed to go to Happy Hour. He hadn’t done anything like this since moving back to Texas in February, and after two and a half months of ten to fourteen hour workdays, he could use a break. He was ready to be social and talk and maybe this weekend, with a little luck, he’d even get in a game of pool at one of his old haunts, The Grand Social Club and Billiards Room.

Dillon’s street was quiet as he approached his house. He parked in the garage, entering through the garage door into the hall, which led to the kitchen. He didn’t bother with lights. Moonlight poured through the huge walls of glass, allowing him to see where he was going. There wasn’t much furniture, either. He’d bought a few pieces for the living room and bedroom, just the most necessary items needed, and left it at that.

In the kitchen he opened the refrigerator and studied the contents inside. A couple beers on the top shelf. A white take out container on the middle shelf. A package of baby carrots in one of the produce drawers.

So different from Paige’s refrigerator, a refrigerator overflowing with food and Tupperware containers of leftovers.

Don’t think about her. Don’t think about her or the kids. Don’t think of her in that creaky Victorian raising Addison and Tyler on her own.

He closed the refrigerator door. Better to just go to bed.

But with the refrigerator shut, he could see the small postcard he’d received in the mail six weeks ago from Tyler:

Dillon’s gaze lingered on the postcard, just as it did every time he saw it. He hoped Tyler was doing well with his project. He’d told Tyler when they’d talked last month, that he could email him or text him if he had any problems, but Dillon hadn’t heard from the boy since, which had to be good news. Tyler was obviously feeling good about his project. Maybe Paige had found Tyler someone local who could help him. If that were the case, Dillon was glad.

Paige needed someone there for her, and the kids.

They deserved someone who would put them first.

He took the postcard down, folded it in half, before throwing it away.

B
e bold
, Paige told herself, standing tall, shoulders thrown back.
Be brave
.

“I’m here to see Mr. Sheenan,” Paige said crisply to Tutro’s receptionist, hoping she appeared chic and professional in her fitted dark trousers and tailored blouse.

She’d worn pearls on the plane but had taken them off in the cab on the way from the airport, thinking they looked too fashioned, and made her look old. She suddenly wished she’d found a great pair of heels to wear, just for confidence, but it was too late for that.

The receptionist frowned slightly, checking her computer screen before looking back up at Paige. “Did you have an appointment?”

Paige smiled serenely, and then lied through her teeth. “Four thirty, Friday, May 1
^st
.”

Of course there was no appointment. This was all a last second whim. She’d never ever done anything like this before. Never anything so risky. She wasn’t just putting herself out there this time. She was walking a plank, begging for rejection.

On the plane from Bozeman this morning, she’d had endless conversations with herself, justifying her wild impulsiveness for booking a quick two day trip to Austin, hoping that when she arrived in Texas and surprised Dillon, it would be a good surprise, very well aware that it might turn out to be anything but.

And yet it was a risk she had to take.

“I don’t see anything,” the receptionist replied apologetically. “Are you sure you have the right day and time?”

“Absolutely. I flew in for the meeting. From...Missoula.” Paige crossed her fingers, thinking, lies and more lies. “If you could let him know I’m here?”

“Mr. Sheenan isn’t here.”

“He’s not in Austin?”

“Yes, he is, and he was here in the office today, but he’s already left for the weekend. He had something scheduled for five, and he left a bit early. I’m really sorry.”

Paige’s heart thumped. Had she come all this way for nothing? No. Impossible. If he was in Austin, she’d find him.

“Would you like me to call Mr. Sheenan for you? See if I can reach him?” the receptionist offered.

Paige shook her head. “No, but thank you. I have his number. I’ll call him myself.”

She exited the building lobby and stood on the busy street, thinking of her next move.

She hadn’t come this far to return without seeing him. She would see him. She’d send him a text, or give him a call—

“Excuse me, Ms. Joffe.” It was the receptionist, calling to Paige from the door of the Tutro building. “I don’t know if it would be any help, but Mr. Sheenan was heading to Rainey Street. You could try Container Bar, and if not there, maybe Eisenhower?”

Paige warmly thanked her and hailed a cab and asked to be taken to Container Bar on Rainey Street, all the while wondering what she’d say to Dillon once she found him.
Hey, was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d pop by...

Hmm, no. That wouldn’t work. It was obvious she was making a huge effort to see him. She was literally hunting him down in Austin. Not subtle, not cool. And then the thought struck—
what if he was meeting a woman after work?

What if he had a date scheduled?

Paige cringed, imagining interrupting him on a date. That would be beyond awful. But she was also here now and she wasn’t leaving until she saw him.