All My Life Read online

  “Mia,” a loud screech calls out, coupled with an earth-shattering bang on the window, lifting my daughter from her teenage-induced drama.

  We all look through the window, finding Mia’s best friend Penny holding her phone out and jumping up and down. Mia waves her in. Now that my daughter is distracted, I seize the opportunity to order a bacon lover’s omelet.

  Devlyn smiles and greets Penny as she rushes though the door. “Why didn’t you pick up your phone? I knew you’d be here.” Mia points to me as the warden behind her cellular service. “Oh, hi, Mr. Garrett,” Penny says, calming her voice just a little before starting back up again. “Mia, your video. Look, it’s gone viral!”

  “What?” Mia screams out.

  “What video?” I ask, reaching for Penny’s phone.

  Penny holds it out for us to see. “The video of her graduation speech. It’s got over a million views in just twelve hours.”

  “Fuck!” I blurt out. Mia and Penny’s wide eyes both hit me. I try to make it a point not to curse in front of my daughter, but sometimes things just slip. My internal monologue tends to be much more R-rated than what I actually say out loud. “Can you take it down?”

  “It’s too late,” Penny says, putting her arm around Mia. “It’s already been shared and . . .”

  “Garrett,” Devlyn says, pointing to the television in the corner, the video suddenly playing on a morning news show.

  “You’re famous,” Penny giggles out, shaking Mia, and the two start screaming and dancing around. They immediately start texting, their fingers moving at the speed of light. “Let’s go find everyone.”

  Mia grabs her phone and rushes towards the door. “Mia,” I call out. “Breakfast.”

  “Later. I’ll meet you at the store in a little bit,” she says, coming back to kiss me on the cheek before rushing out.

  I look up at the television, and Devlyn’s hand lands on my shoulder. “Looks like you’re trending.”

  *

  Letters to Mia

  Fifth birthday

  The quiet is my enemy. It’s when the memories take over. They’re like shadows, always lurking, and when I’m still, quiet, they roll in like the morning fog. This time of year doesn’t help. The little girl I left behind is having a birthday. Every year, in the weeks leading up to this day, I feel like a prisoner on death row, hoping for a stay of execution, but knowing I deserve all the pain that’s coming.

  A pain that started with a boy.

  Spending a couple months in some small, Podunk town is not what I had in mind the summer I met your father, but I was sixteen and didn’t get a say in the matter. My dad had fallen on some ice the winter before and broken both his legs. It had been months of physical therapy, casts, pins and screws, and I don’t know what else. My parents decided he needed a long break, and somehow had heard about this place Eden Valley.

  It was just what they wanted—quiet, solitude. I wanted to be in New York with my friends. I lost that fight. They rented a cottage through just after Labor Day, when I’d have to go back to school. My whole summer.

  They talked about the mountains, but I missed the skyscrapers. They commented on the air quality. I grew up on pollution. They loved the quiet. I missed the taxis honking at each other.

  My dad slowed the car down as we pulled into town. I wondered if even the speed limit was slower here. They marveled at the quaint shops. I missed my chain stores, my big coffee shops. I had no idea how I was going to get through that summer.

  Then I saw exactly how.

  Tall, tanned by the southern sun, dark hair, and eyes so blue I could see them from the car. Yep, he was how I planned on passing the time. He smiled as we passed, tugging on the pigtail of a strawberry blonde girl tagging behind him. Poor girl, I could tell he only saw her as a little sister type, but that she had a huge crush on him. I could also tell she was the type of girl that hadn’t discovered the power in being female. I learned that lesson young, having watched my mother flirt her way to getting anything she wanted. This girl had curves she didn’t know how to use. She was no threat, dressed in some crazy red pants and yellow shirt. In fact, I doubted any girl in town could give me a run for my money.

  What I didn’t expect to happen was that I’d fall madly in love with that boy. Garrett Hollis.

  Even his name does things to me, things it shouldn’t after all these years.

  He thought we met by chance. A small town, we would’ve run into each other at some point, but that wasn’t good enough for me. So when I saw the strawberry blonde girl coming out of the town’s diner, I followed her, knowing she’d lead me to him. I didn’t have to wait long. He was right across the town square in the hardware store, working. I remember that first meeting like it was yesterday.

  Perfect.

  I walked right in, pushed my sunglasses on top of my head, holding back my blonde hair. He looked over at me, surprise in his blue eyes. “I’m new in town, and I’m a little turned around,” I said. “I’m looking for the library.”

  That wasn’t a total lie. I loved to read and would need to find it eventually.

  “It’s on the other side of the square,” the strawberry blonde girl said, pointing toward the door. “I’ll show you.”

  “That’s okay,” I said, not taking my eyes off his blue ones. “I’m sure I can find it.”

  “They show movies in the town square once a week in the summer,” he said. “There’s one tonight.”

  “Will you be there?” I asked.

  “Garrett and I always go,” the girl said, like she was stating some sort of claim.

  “DD,” he said warningly, taking a step towards me. “I’ll be there.”

  “Save me a seat,” I said, flipping my hair over my shoulder.

  “I’ll need your name,” he said, grinning.

  “Sheena.”

  Even now, I smile at the memory of meeting your father. I wonder if he’s ever told you that story. I wonder what you know about me other than I left. I wonder what kind of cake you’re having for your birthday. I’m eating a piece of chocolate cake. I even put five candles on it for you. Happy Birthday!

  Until next year,

  Your mom

  CHAPTER TWO

  GARRETT

  Normally, I’m not one for doing inventory. I farm that part of the job to my employees. Yes, I have to do paperwork, payroll, and ordering, but the part of owning the store I really love is getting my hands dirty outside of the store, doing building projects for people around town. Although today, doing inventory in the back is just what the doctor ordered. It seems like the entire population of Eden Valley has stopped by, some thrilled with the attention our town is getting via Mia’s video, others offering up their nieces, aunts, cousins and friends to date me. The one thing they all have in common is finding the humor in my situation. So I escape to the storage room, having instructed Mia not to bother me for the remainder of the day, having had my fill of well-wishers.

  My store is in the center of town square, and even though our town is small, I pride myself on having everything anyone might need, and if I don’t have it, I’ll get it. Like the rest of town, the store could be on a postcard for small town living. Just because we sell shovels and nails doesn’t mean it can’t be welcoming. I’ve reprimanded more than one employee for not greeting a customer when they walk in. A “hello” and “how can I help you” comes with the territory around here.

  “Dad, we need to order . . .” Mia’s voice trails off. She’s spending part of her summer vacation helping me at the store, but I think she spends more time on her phone. I call out to her from the storage room, but she doesn’t answer. After a few more tries, I make my way to the front of the store and immediately know why.

  Mia turns to me, her eyes wide, her mouth dropped open. Standing in front of her is a woman, her eyes cast right on me. I know everyone who lives in this town. Yes, we get tourists, the occasional person just passing through, but I immediately know this is something else. I can
sense it.

  This woman is clearly on a mission, dressed in a short, tight black dress with black high heels and a bright red purse. She looks like she belongs in a nightclub in a big city, not small-town USA.

  “You must be Mia’s dad,” she says, smiling at me.

  “Can I help you with something?” I ask.

  “She saw the video,” Mia says, shrugging.

  On instinct, I reach out to Mia. “Look, if you’re a reporter or something . . .”

  “I’m not a reporter,” she says, taking a step closer. “I saw the video . . . and I . . . Um . . . I . . .”

  “You came to date my dad!” Mia says, her voice a mix of joy and shock.

  Holy shit! That can’t be right, but one look at her nodding head and blushing skin lets me know my daughter hit the nail on the head.

  “I don’t do stuff like this. It’s just, I saw it and felt something.”

  Mia elbows me in the side and whispers, “She felt something.”

  “It was a speech,” I say. “I’m sorry you came all this way.”

  “Drove up from Florida,” she says. “Through the night.”

  Frankly, I’m not sure what to think about this woman. Did she just escape from an asylum? Is this a joke? Am I on one of those practical joke shows? Not to mention, I certainly don’t want my daughter thinking this is the way to meet someone.

  Mia wiggles next to me. “Daddy, she drove here to meet you. You should at least buy her a coffee or something. That’s the polite thing to do. I can watch the store for a few minutes. Besides, Biscuit Girl is right across the square.” Mia turns to the stranger. “They have the best coffee in town.”

  The woman raises her eyebrows to me as if to say, “shall we?” I hold my finger up, indicating I need a minute with my overly excited daughter. Pulling Mia out of earshot but where I can still keep an eye on my new admirer, I say, “I know you think this is fun.”

  “She’s pretty,” Mia says simply.

  I glance her way. “She is, but that doesn’t change the fact that this is my life, our life and . . .”

  “It’s just coffee,” she pleads.

  “I had coffee already,” I say. Not that I care what people think, but the locals would have a field day with this.

  “You never get enough of Devlyn’s coffee,” she says, nudging me.

  “Mia, this isn’t how this works.”

  “Why not?” she asks, and I half-expect a stomp of her foot. “She’s here. What can it hurt to just go have coffee with her?”

  My pride? My ego? My man card will be revoked for allowing my daughter to set me up. Feeling me softening, Mia goes in for the kill, kissing me on the cheek. I hate to disappoint a woman much less two, so walking back over, I motion with my arm towards the door. I know I’m going to regret this. Mia squeals a little, and I mouth to her that’s she’s in so much trouble. She just smiles at my veiled threat.

  The door is barely closed when she starts talking. “My name is . . .” Basically, she proceeds to give me her resume. What she does for a living. Her education. Relationship status. I get the whole lowdown on the short walk over to Biscuit Girl.

  So here’s the thing. I know within thirty seconds that I’m not interested in this woman. Yep, it happens that quick. We don’t even make it to the gazebo that centers the town square. How do I know? Well, let’s just say my dick isn’t interested. Sad but true. A man’s dick doesn’t lie (unless we’re drunk). It might be the most honest part of our bodies. Our heads can muck things up. Our hearts are even worse, but the cock always tells the straight-up truth. A man’s dick is a good judge of character.

  I open the door to the diner, and my coffee date places her hand on my chest. “Aren’t you sweet? This place is so cute.”

  I motion towards a two-top table in the corner, not my usual table with Mia. We sit down, and I realize the drumbeat of her voice has stopped. Shit, must be my turn to say something. “So Florida?”

  “I’ve lived there my whole life,” she says. “I think a change would be good. I’d be open to moving.”

  See, the dick is right. This woman has driven the crazy train straight into town. She’s met me for five minutes and seen one video, and she’s ready to pack up and move.

  “I think it’s important you know that I want kids. I’m thirty-five.”

  Those words hanging in the air make me choke, and I start coughing. Do all women look at a guy and try to picture him as their husband and father of their children? Or do only the crazy ones do that? I feel someone pat my back, and a mug slips under my nose. I look up into Devlyn’s sassy smirk. “Who’s your friend?”

  I look over at the woman, drawing a blank. She just giggles, introducing herself to Devlyn. “I saw the video of sweet Mia’s speech, and just had to come meet the man that raised such a wonderful girl.”

  “Oh,” Devlyn says, throwing me a look. She’s going to have a field day with this. “Well, he is Eden Valley’s very own bachelor.” Devlyn reaches into a vase on a nearby table, pulling out a flower and placing it in front of me. “For the rose ceremony.”

  “I applied to be on that show!” the woman giggles.

  Why am I not surprised? Is it too soon to bolt? Damn it, I should’ve had an exit strategy. Everyone of dating age should have one. I’m in so much trouble here. Devlyn takes her order then saunters off, throwing me a look over her shoulder. Damn woman!

  My tablemate keeps talking about her favorite television shows, movies, anything and everything. Then she asks, “What would you like to know about me?”

  It occurs to me that this lady hasn’t asked me a single thing about myself. It’s almost like she just wants a man and as long as we’ve got a dick, we’ll do. I’m not rude, but it’s been a long damn time since I’ve done this. I think of Mia and the things she likes to talk about. “What’s your favorite book?” She gets this crease between her eyes like she’s never heard the word before. “Or the last book you read?”

  “I don’t really have time to read a whole book,” she says. “I like quick articles better.”

  Maybe I should buy her an audio book to listen to on her way out of town. “Uh huh.”

  The dreaded awkward silence follows. I can see her searching for something else to say. God knows, I’ve got nothing, and she’s already told me her whole life story. What’s left to ask? She starts fidgeting with her hair, looking around, giving me an uncomfortable smile. I’m sure she’ll blame me for how terrible this is going, but she’s the one who just showed up in town after seeing a YouTube video.

  Suddenly, Devlyn appears, placing my mystery woman’s coffee down in front of her in a to-go cup. Subtle!

  Devlyn takes one look into my help-me eyes and says to me, “You know, you’re really bad at this.”

  “Oh no,” the woman says, waving her hand. “This is just an unusual situation.”

  “No, trust me. He’s single for a reason.” Devlyn leans in like she’s about to spill my secrets. “Once, he missed a woman’s birthday because of a baseball game.”

  The woman’s eyes dart to me. I just shrug, not letting on that the girl was Devlyn, I was ten, and I only missed it because my team was in the Little League World Series.

  “His priorities are all messed up,” Devlyn piles on. “Anyone will tell you. Another of his relationships ended because of the woman’s appearance.”

  “That’s terrible,” the woman says, grabbing her purse.

  I bite the corner of my mouth not to laugh or spit out the truth, which is that the girl dumped me at the sixth-grade dance because she was taller than me and didn’t want to dance with a short guy. At six-two, I got the last word on that one. Eventually.

  “Maybe I should go,” the woman says.

  Devlyn places her hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Some men just don’t know a great woman when they see her.” The woman straightens her posture. “It’s really his loss, don’t you think?”

  “Absolutely,” she says.

  “You drove al
l this way just to meet him. You tried, you have to feel good about that,” Devlyn piles on.

  “I had to try,” the woman says with a hopeless tone. “The heart wants what the heart wants.”

  Who came up with that stupid saying? Don’t you have a brain? Who decided the heart is the body part to represent love, anyway? Why is that? Because it beats faster when you’re with someone special? Well, my dick thumps, so maybe the penis should be on all the Valentine’s Day cards. We could serve chocolates in a penis shaped container!

  Is it because the heart is the center of your body? So is the cock. Is it because you can’t live without your heart? I guess a man can live without his penis, but why would he want to?

  The woman gives me the once-over then stands, telling me, “You really should learn how to behave on a date.” Then she walks out.

  I look up at Devlyn biting her bottom lip, trying to contain her laughter, but it comes out anyway. “Maybe there’s an app for that.”

  I crack up laughing. “You totally saved my ass.”

  “You’re welcome,” she says. “I can spot crazy from a mile away, and that right there was crazy with a capital C.”

  She starts back towards the counter. “I owe you one, DD,” I tease, knowing she always hated when I called her that in high school.

  She turns back, cocks a smile, and says, “No double D’s here. I’m a full C all the way, baby.”

  Chuckling, I see Mia rushing through the front door of the diner. “Daddy!”

  I guess she saw her wannabe stepmother leaving and is trying to run interference. “Mia, she left because . . .”

  “Forget her,” Mia says. “I just took two phone calls from other women who want to meet you.”

  *

  What started innocently enough—a graduation speech—has quickly turned into a full-on festival of women. No joke. Eden Valley has become home to a parade of women all vying for my affection. Are women in this country so starved for single men that they have started responding to YouTube videos?