Page 45 of Truth and Temptation
“Mom, don’t beat him up. He’s right. I know you can’t guarantee I can stay on this side of the country, I have a job to do. I just wanted to let you know where I’m at.”
“Wyatt, I’m thrilled for you. And I can’t wait to meet her. Maybe your father and I can come back to the island next week?”
I wince at how hopeful she sounds. But the truth is, I’m not sure I’ll even want to be around Paige next week, especially on one particular day, much less Paige and my parents. “Maybe we could hold off for a little bit, Mom. It’s still new.”
“Fine, fine, I get it, you don’t want your parents cramping your style.”
It’s so good to hear Mom joking like this, I smile into my phone. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Look, Wyatt.” My Dad’s voice comes back on the phone. “If you’ll agree to at least go to Toronto periodically, I think we can shuffle things around so you can stay here for the most part. Okay?”
God, I almost wish they weren’t so accommodating sometimes. It would make me feel a lot less guilty about wanting to walk away from the company, and away from my job, if my parents didn’t make it so easy to work for them. But this right here is exactly why I can’t ever tell them I’m unhappy.
“Thanks, Dad. Listen, I gotta go. We’ll talk soon, okay?”
When I finally get off the phone, I stand up, shoes untied, but on. I need to go to Paige. I need to tell her I’m staying, and that I want to give this thing between us a real shot. I want…well, fuck. I want her. In my life.
I’m smiling the entire drive to Camille’s café, as I place my order at the counter, and as I walk next door to the bakery. Mila’s behind the counter and puts her hands on her hips, looking at me skeptically.
“Why are you so damn happy?”
I shrug and just keep smiling. “Just am. Hey, what’s Paige’s favourite thing to get here?”
“Oh that’s why you’re happy.” Mila waggles her eyebrows and I just laugh. She’s not wrong.
She gets to work filling a bag with various things before handing it over to me. “Is she feeling better?”
“It’s just a cold,” I say confidently, but Mila frowns.
“She has to be careful, even with colds. It can turn bad quickly with her lungs.”
I fight back the fear that ignites in me. Paige is fine. I left her just a couple of hours ago. “I’ll take care of her, don’t worry.”
Someone in the kitchen calls Mila’s name, and she turns to go. “You’re good for her, Wyatt, just don’t hurt her. Or I’ll hurt you.”
“Understood.”
When I finally get back to Paige’s house, I unload everything and put it by her front door before pulling out the key she gave me this morning so that I could lock up when I left. Opening the door, I listen to hear if she’s awake, but the house is silent. She and Polly must still be asleep upstairs. I head into the kitchen to put away the food, but I come to a stop when I see Polly lying down inside her crate. She lifts her head with a soft whine.
Frowning, I crouch down and open the door, scooping the puppy out. “What are you doing locked up? Were you bugging Paige? She needs to rest, you silly thing.” A lick to my chin is all I get in response. Tucking her under my arm, I head down the hallway to check on Paige.
When I see her bed empty, my confusion grows. Putting Polly down, I pull out my phone and dial Paige’s number.
“Wyatt?” A woman answers, but not the one I was expecting.
“Serena? Why do you have Paige’s phone?”
“Oh boy, umm, Wyatt, we’re at the hospital. Paige’s lungs started to seize up on her.”
My phone falls to the ground. I squeeze my eyes shut as if that will push away the ringing in my ears. Panic. This is panic. Serena’s small voice somehow reaches me and I swiftly bend and pick up the phone.
“Is she okay?” I bark out, searching the room for Polly. I scoop up the dog and jog back to the kitchen. Now I know why she was locked up. Grabbing my keys, I’m out the door as I take in Serena saying that Paige is being treated by the doctors, but they won’t tell her anything else.
“I’m on my way.”
It’s a fucking miracle I don’t crash my car on the drive to Westport. As it is, I make it in well under the time it should have taken. I park crookedly in the nearest stall I can find and race in the front entrance doors, my eyes searching frantically for Serena. When I find her, she’s pacing back and forth in front of some empty chairs.
“What happened? Why is she here? Why did she call you? Is she going to be okay? What have they said?” Questions are pouring from me and distantly, I realize I sound like a crazed asshole, but I don’t care. Serena’s eyes are watery, and that only adds to my panic.
