Page 12 of All She Ever Wanted Was a Real One
“So, you’re gone a lot?”
“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Pat replied with a nonchalant shrug.
“So, what makes you think marriage is the right move when you’re on the go so often? I mean, that’ll make it hard to settle down and start a family, right?”
Liv elbowed him underneath the table again and groaned before Pat could answer. “Ugh, please don’t start this shit, Oak. I already told you, you sound just like Dad.”
“You met my father?” Oak asked Pat.
“Yeah, once.”
“Well, I’m ten times worse than him.”
Liv rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry, Pat. You don’t have to answer any of his questions. He’s extremely overprotective. Always has been. It’s the reason we never got a dog growing up. Who needs a guard dog when we have him?”
Her comment made Pat chuckle. “Nah, it’s cool. I don’t mind.”
“See, he doesn’t mind,” Oak told her. “All I wanna know is his intentions with Lex. Y’know she’s like family to us.”
Pat dipped his chin. “Trust me, I get it.”
My fingers danced nervously against my thighs underneath the table, and I wished more than anything I’d taken the outside seat so that I could slip away and make a beeline to the bathroom. I needed a plan, and I needed one fast.
“I know they’re busy in here, but where is my damn margarita?” I blurted out. “I think I’m going to go to the bar and check. Excuse me, babe.”
Pat slid out of the booth so that I could exit. I decided to go to the bathroom to flick a few drops of cool water on my face, enough to calm me down without ruining my makeup. After drawing in a few deep breaths, I pushed open the bathroom door with a crumpled paper towel and headed toward the bar. To my surprise, Oak was already standing there.
I rolled my eyes as I approached him. “Why are you everywhere I’m at?”
“You’re not the only one who ordered a drink, Liv,” he reminded me.
I grimaced. “And what the hell is with all the third-degree questions toward Pat, Oak? You’re going to scare him away!” I hissed, cutting my eyes at him.
He scoffed. “Scare away a grown ass man who’s already put a ring on your finger? If I do that, then he ain’t the right nigga for you anyway, and I did yo’ ass a favor.”
“Whatever.”
“Besides, all I’m trying to do is get to know the nigga, unless you feel like he’s not good enough for me to get to know.”
“Why wouldn’t he be good enough for you to get to know? If he wasn’t, I wouldn’t be marrying him.”
“You sure about that?” he inquired, arching a brow in my direction.
I shook my head, visibly annoyed, although my heart was still a pattery mess inside my chest. “Just . . . ease up on my man, okay?”
“Mm-hmm. I will. Once he answers all my questions.”
I gave up on combating him any further. Oak was proving a point. Even if Pat didn’t notice, it was crystal clear to me. The question was why? Was he trying to blow up my life? Or was hetrying to make me see something I’d been too blind to notice all along?
On our last day together before he left for work, we were at the expensive assisted living facility where his grandfather, Poppy, lived. He’d been diagnosed with dementia a couple of years before I met Pat, and over the last year or so, things had started to progress. His cozy, private room didn’t feel clinical like a hospital or nursing home. It was a cross between a luxury hotel suite and a studio apartment, most likely thanks to all the money Pat’s mother, his daughter, made. On the dresser were framed photos of his family—Pat, his mother and stepfather, and Poppy’s late wife—most of whom he no longer remembered, depending on the day. There was a call button built into the wall that notified the nurses at the station a few feet away from his room in case he ever needed help.
Poppy sat in the armchair in the small sitting area, watching old westerns play on the forty-two-inch flat-screen TV mounted to the wall. There was a custom blanket draped over his knees, with family photos from throughout the years that Pat’s mother had gifted him last Christmas.
“Hey, Poppy. It’s me, Pat, your grandson,” Pat announced as we sat across from him on the love seat.
I smiled softly as I waved. “Hey, Poppy. It’s Alexis. It’s good to see you again.”
He looked up at us with bright eyes, but I could tell there wasn’t much going on behind them.
