Road to Love (Lessons in Love Book 1) Page 7

  “We should probably get back to Omaha now, huh?” she asked, finally making eye contact.

  “Actually…” I started, not sure how to broach the subject, but I was too tired to drive back to Omaha tonight.

  “Roosevelt, it’s all over your face. You’re beat. We can try to find somewhere to bunk here and head back to Omaha in the morning. I noticed we’d passed a few hotels on the way into town, and surely they’ll have a couple of rooms for us for the night.”

  Emerson was right, a mere five minutes down the road was a couple of motels and hotels. There was also a Walmart nearby, so we popped in there briefly to grab toiletries and something for Emerson to throw on for the ride back to Omaha since her luggage was in her car parked at the airport. After trying the Holiday Inn and being turned away because they were booked, we settled in at the Comfort Inn. They had exactly one room left. Apparently, there was some big golf event that brought a large number of people into town, thus this turning this sleepy little town in the middle of the plains into a hotbed of activity for the night. Both Emerson and I were too pooped to even protest, accepting the room and agreeing to work out the details about payment for it in the morning.

  The room came equipped with one King sized bed and a pull-out couch. Emerson tried taking the couch, but I wasn’t going for that at all. I’d slept in worse conditions than a lumpy sofa bed and one night would be easy to get through. While Emerson showered, I plopped down on the bed and flipped on the television to catch the highlights of the playoffs on SportsCenter. I figured I'd move to the sofa bed by the time she was ready to lay down for the night.

  I came out of the shower to find Roosevelt conked out on the bed. He was sprawled on the side of the bed closest to the door, laid out on his back, snoring lightly. He looked so peaceful that I didn't want to wake him, so I decided to camp out on the pull-out. The pull out had different plans for me, however, because once I unfurled it, there were random springs from the mattress jutting out of the fabric. I folded the bed part back in, replaced the cushions and tried sleeping on it just as a couch, but I felt like the princess and the pea. I wasn't quite sure if it was knowing that errant springs were sticking out of the bed below or if I was actually feeling those springs through the couch cushions, but after twenty minutes of discomfort I sat up and glared over at Roosevelt sleeping peacefully on the bed.

  Just go get in the bed and stop being stubborn the little voice in my head screamed at me. I was hesitant because, for all intents and purposes, Roosevelt was still a stranger. Was I really about to share a bed with a stranger? If you want some freakin' sleep, you will! Go get in the darn bed, fool! that little voice in my head piped up again. I wasn't about to sit here and argue with myself wasting time when I could be sleeping, so I got up from the sofa, softly creeping toward the bed. I didn't want to disturb Roosevelt, so I slid onto the bed carefully, not even bothering with getting beneath the blanket. I laid down facing Roosevelt initially but decided that was way too creepy and intimate, so I turned my back, balancing myself as close to the edge as possible as to not accidentally roll over and be all in his space by daylight. Just as I was falling into my REM cycle it occurred to me that I hadn't checked in with Grace in a few hours, and she'd likely be worried, but my phone was all the way across the room, and I'd gotten too comfortable to think about getting up now. I'll just check in with her in the morning, I thought to myself as I drifted off.

  ♫ Sistaaaaaaa you been on my miiiiind, sistaaaaaaa we’re two of a kiiiiiiind ♫

  “You wanna get that?” Roosevelt's voice rumbled in my ear.

  Somehow, during the course of the night, our bodies had managed to collide, and he held me in a loose spooning embrace. It felt so good that I didn't dare protest or feel weird once I was fully cognizant of our positions. I made a noise of noncommittal assent but made no move to actually get up from the bed to retrieve my phone. Miss Celie's Blues continued to blare for twenty seconds more until the phone rolled over into voicemail but shortly began again, much to my chagrin. I slowly sat up, stretching a bit before walking over to retrieve my phone from my purse.

  “What, Grace? I was trying to sleep.”

  “Oh! Excuse me for trying to make sure nobody ax murdered you since you went radio silent yesterday after telling me that you would be delayed yet another day. Where the hell are you anyway?”

  “One, calm down—I'm not Grayson or Tamia, so I don't have to answer to you. I'm doing you a courtesy by checking in regularly but be clear Grace...I'm a fully grown adult woman who is more than capable of taking care of herself and do not need your oversight. I will make it back to Ragston in one piece when I feel like making it to Ragston, okay?”

  “Now wait a mi—” Grace started, but I cut her off again.

  “No, Grace, I don't want to hear it. I already let you bully me into this trip, but now I have to hear your mouth every step of the way? I'm safe, I'm okay, and I'll see you in a couple of days, okay?”

  I could hear the bed coverings rustling behind me and the soft closing of the bathroom door, indicating that Roosevelt had left the bed and gone into the bathroom to try to give me some semblance of privacy. Which honestly made no difference between the longer I talked, the higher my voice raised in pitch. I went on a tirade about not needing Grace on my back about this stupid trip home that I didn't want to take or about finally seeing our parents in Lord knows how long or about my stupid high school reunion that I was now attending to hang out with people who I didn't care about and who I knew no longer cared about me. I railed on and on, airing out all of the grievances I'd apparently been storing up for a while. Grace didn't respond immediately, but I could hear her measured breathing through the phone lines.

  “Sorry, my excitement and concern for you has come off as being overbearing. Say no more, Emerson, I'll see you when you pull into Ragston,” she finally said before disconnecting the call.

  “Fiddlesticks,” I muttered under my breath knowing that I freaked out on her for no good reason. I was the one who had all of this extra anxiety behind my homecoming and instead of actually bearing the brunt of the responsibility I shifted it onto her.

  “Everything okay?” Roosevelt asked, slowly walking back into the room.

  He smelled shower fresh, alerting me to exactly how much time I'd spent going off on Grace, making me feel even worse about unloading on her in that way. She didn't deserve any of that at all. I opened my mouth to lie about being okay, and before I could say a word, a sob escaped, and I crumpled into tears once again in front of this ridiculously handsome stranger. I'm sure he thought I was a mess, though he'd never admit it to me if I asked directly. Instead of shaming me or being deterred by my tears, he once again wrapped me in a firm embrace of comfort, urging me to get it all out.

  After finally composing myself I said, “You must think I'm a mess.”

  “I think you're beautiful,” he replied, smoothly.

  “Didn't deny the mess part though.”

  “Aren't we all a mess in some way?”

  I shrugged in place of a verbal answer, shuffling from his embrace to grab the Walmart bag from last night.

  “I...don't want to hold you up any longer. I'll be ready to go in just a few.”

  Not giving him a chance to reply, I scurried into the bathroom, showering and dressing quickly before reemerging and announcing that I was ready to go. The drive back to Omaha was quiet, with me lost in my thoughts about everything that was going on and Roosevelt? He was probably anxious to get me back to the Omaha airport to retrieve my car. For the majority of the car ride, my attention had been directed outside of the window, watching the endless fields of nothingness as we whizzed by. About ten miles outside of Omaha city limits, Roosevelt finally said something.

  “You hungry?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Cool.”

  He grabbed his phone and rerouted the GPS. Moments later we were pulling up to a super cute, storefront brick building with a green and white awning and benches
out front that looked straight out of Smalltown USA. Street parking was all sewed up, but there was a small parking lot right next to the parking lot, with just one spot left, so Roosevelt snapped that up before someone else could, and we walked back toward the restaurant. Surprisingly, despite it being a weekend there was no wait. The waitress brought coffees and waters and gave us a couple of seconds to peruse the menu. Before we even walked in the door, I knew what I'd be getting, steak and eggs. Whenever I went to a diner that was my go-to breakfast.

  “Know what ya want, hons?” the waitress asked, reappearing seemingly out of nowhere.

  Roosevelt tipped his menu, deferring to me. We actually ended up ordering the same thing, oddly enough—right down to the soft scrambled eggs with provolone cheese. The waitress made some sort of quip about our twin orders before promising to be back soon with our food. We must've dropped in during a lull because minutes after we were sat, the place was a-buzz with energy and there was a small line of folks waiting for tables. Beyond the few words, before we got here, Roosevelt still hadn't said much, which made for a very silent and awkward time.

  “So how'd—” I started.

  “I wanted—” Roosevelt started at the same time.

  Once again Roosevelt inclined his head to indicate that I should speak.

  “How'd you know about this place? This is super cute.”

  “Woman at the hotel I stayed in the night before last recommended it. I didn't get a chance to check it out yesterday, so I figured we could stop today before hitting the roads again.”

  “Oh ok, cool.” A beat passed. “So, what were you going to say?”

  “I just...where's your phone?”

  “In my bag?”

  “Can I see it?”

  “Why?”

  “It's a yes or no question, Miss Emerson.”

  “Not if that question is you getting all in my business.”

  “Feisty!” Roosevelt chuckled, “I promise not to get too deep into your business, just hand over the phone, woman.”

  Reluctantly, I reached into my bag, unlocked the screen, and placed my phone in his outstretched hand.

  “See, now that wasn't so bad, was it?” Roosevelt said, while scrolling then typing something in.

  “What're you—” I started before he interrupted me.

  “Relax, I'm just putting my number in your phone. Because it seems like you can use a friend and I'd like to be that for you if that's all right?”

  “I have friends,” I huffed.

  “Never said you didn't,” he replied a hint of laughter in his voice, “But for some reason, I feel like you're way more forthcoming with me than you are with them. That blow up on...your sister?” I nodded in affirmation “That seemed like a long time coming. Like you'd been had those things on your chest but kept bottling them inside. I know how it is to be that person that keeps things tucked away until you explode at the wrong times and usually on the wrong people. So, I just wanted to offer you an impartial, nonjudgmental sounding board. So you can get your frustrations out, yet still have healthy relationships with the people in your life.”

  “Are you a therapist, Roosevelt?” I asked, laughing, “Because you're Dr. Philling the heck outta me right now.”

  “Nope,” he chuckled, “Just an unemployed music teacher, actually. But I know what it's like to be where you are all too well. And I'd hate to see you end up like I'd become, constantly battling those demons with no one to really talk through them with. And, unlike me, you won't have to spend thousands of dollars on a licensed professional who ended up making you more frustrated than you were when you started seeing her.”

  “Well that's too personal to be a hypothetical,” I replied.

  “Because it's my truth, sweetheart,” he said, before pressing another button on my phone, then handing it over to me. When his lit up on the table, I realized he had sent himself a message so that he'd have my number too.

  “And what if I didn't want to give you my number? Or want yours?”

  “Too late now,” Roosevelt replied with a smug grin, “You're stuck with me.”

  Before I could reply, the waitress was back, setting our plates heaped with food on the table and asking about coffee refills. Both of us immediately tucked into eating, no time for any further conversation. The food at this place was excellent, exactly what I needed to fortify me for the long journey home. I decided while eating that I wasn't going to prolong this trip any; further, I'd bite the bullet and drive the next eleven hours straight, so I could pull into Ragston as soon as possible. I had some crow to eat and a lot of apologizing to do, starting with Grace.

  We finished eating, haggled back and forth over who would pay the bill—I won thanks to some mad rock paper scissors skills! I also snagged a super cute “I Love Lisa's” tee that looked like the I Love Lucy logo, and then we headed over to the airport to get me back to my car.

  “So, thanks for taking an adventure with me,” I said as Roosevelt pulled up next to my car, “This was fun.”

  “Was it?”

  “Despite all of the tears, it was…you’re a cool dude, Roosevelt.”

  “Wouldn’t I sound cooler if you just called me Ro though?”

  “Give it up, man. Your name is your name. Stop tryna deflect; I’m tryna tell you how much of a good time I had.”

  “This sounds like you’re tryna brush me off…”

  “Noooo, not at all.”

  “Sure, tell me anything. Soon as you drive off, you’re gonna delete my number, never to contact me again. Thanks for the memories, Emerson NoLastName.”

  I rolled my eyes at his melodramatic hyperbole.

  “You’re buggin’! And you’re probably gonna get tired of me now that I have your number because I’m calling you every time I even think about crying,” I teased.

  “And I’ll pick up every time,” Roosevelt replied, looking me directly in the eyes, so I knew just how serious he was with his offer.

  “Aight, let me stop hogging your time,” I said before opening the door and getting out of the car, “You’ve got a helluva drive ahead of you too. How much further is it from here for you?”

  “Nice segue, I’ll let you slide this time. Bout eight hours might be able to push it and get there in about six and a half if the Lord is on my side and there are no state troopers,” Roosevelt replied, getting out of the car as well and coming around to my side.

  “Please don’t be out here speeding like a darn fool, Roosevelt,” I begged, “Promise me you won’t?”

  “Me? Speed? Nah, lil mama, I just keep up with the flow of traffic,” he joked, before pulling me into his body for a hug.

  I stiffened, caught off guard, but quickly relaxed into his embrace as his lips gently pressed a brief kiss to my forehead. As soon as I’d settled in, he released me.

  “You stay safe out here, too, okay? And don’t be a stranger. Hit me when you get to…Ragsdale?”

  “Ragston,” I laughed.

  “I was close, either way, let me know you made it in safely, aight?”

  “Aye aye, captain,” I replied with a mock salute.

  “Cute,” Roosevelt tossed over his shoulder as he was getting back into his car.

  Before he pulled off, he reversed his car and turned, so our driver side windows were alongside one another and motioned for me to roll mine down.

  “Yes, Mr. Ashe?”

  “So, you really gon’ drive off without me knowing your last name?”

  When I finally pulled into Ragston, it was damn near two in the morning. I texted Grace to let her know around what time I’d be arriving, and she reminded me of the fake plant on the porch that held a key for me to get into the house, so I didn’t have to wake them when I pulled in. I was beyond tired, having spent more than half of a day in the car between the ride with Roosevelt and my long drive home. At this point, I wanted nothing more than to collapse into the comfy bed Grace assured would be ready and waiting for my arrival. I didn’t even bother grabbing my lug
gage from the trunk, just retrieved the key from the plant and let myself in. I’d barely gotten through the threshold of the door when Grace attacked me. Just as I’d suspected, she was still awake, waiting for me to pull in. It was the reverse of the old days when I sat at home awaiting her arrival on those nights she snuck out to hang out with friends and called herself sneaking back in.

  “Hey baby sister!” she whisper-yelled, hugging me as if I were an apparition that would dissipate in her grasp.

  I grasped her back just as tightly, not knowing until this very moment how badly I’d needed one of my big sister’s engulfing hugs. We disengaged briefly, then wrapped our arms around each other again before separating and going over to the couches to talk. All of the drain I’d felt from earlier had melted away, and I was suddenly energized, ready to talk to Grace about any and every little thing now that we were face to face. Just when I was about to begin my apologies, my phone buzzed.

  Made it to Bragstone yet, Miss No Name? – Ro Ashe

  I giggled before typing out a quick reply.

  You know it’s Ragston, right? Just pulled in. Thanks for checking in.

  He and I were texting intermittently on the drive, and he’d almost convinced me to stop off in Chicago, but instead, I kept it pushing those extra few hours to get to Ragston. No need to further delay the inevitable.

  That’s what I said, Ragston. Aight, I’ll let you settle in with ya people, but remember, I’m on tear standby duty, one phone call away. – Ro Ashe

  I remember. Thank you. For real. TTYL.

  “Who got you grinnin’ at your phone like that this late at night, Nay?”

  I rolled my eyes at her shortened version of my middle name. Despite being asked not to several times, Grace chose to call me whatever suited her at the moment, which drove me bonkers. My phone buzzed again, but I didn’t look at it as I replied to Grace.

  “Nobody.”

  Because I knew as soon as I said Roosevelt’s name she would go on a tangent about how impetuous I was for picking up a man on the side of the road and I didn’t even want our time together to begin on such a sour note. We were already on an uphill battle thanks to my little tantrum back in Nebraska.