Page 124 of Last First Date

“Knox, Waverly is a good girl. She’s not to be toyed with.”

“Believe me, Grandpa, I know. I don’t want to hurt her.” I clenched my hands, something uneasy stirring in my gut. There was so much more to it than just liking Waverly. She had made me reevaluate my ways and question the choices I had made in life.

My grandfather seemed to sense my inner turmoil. He reached out his hand, placing it on top of mine. His skin was cool and wrinkled. “Are you trying to protect her from yourself, Knox?”

His words caught me off guard. It was as if he had peeked into my mind, laying bare all my fears and uncertainties. I was silent for a moment, the hum of the hospital room filling the space between us.

“Maybe,” I admitted finally, my voice barely a whisper. “I’ve never met someone who made me want to be better before.”

Grandfather grunted in understanding. “I’m all for you being better, but at what cost to Waverly?”

“At zero cost,” I said. “This isn’t supposed to be a bad thing for either of us. I care about her.”

“I care about her as well,” he said. “I don’t want her hurt. She’s a good girl.”

“I know that,” I murmured.

He leaned forward, his gaze penetrating. “Knox, you’re a good man. Waverly is one of the best. She’s not the kind of woman you’re used to. You don’t get to treat her like one of the ladies you knew back in New York.”

I swallowed hard, his words stinging more than I expected. It was true. Waverly was unlike anyone I had ever known before, a woman of grace and kindness.

“I know that, Grandpa,” I said quietly, feeling smaller under his stern gaze.

He patted my hand gently, his eyes softening. “That’s good to hear. Remember, it takes more than words to show someone you care. Actions speak volumes, Knox.”

I nodded, taking in his wisdom. I had done enough talking. It was time for me to show Waverly just how much she meant to me.

“I’ll take that to heart,” I told him.

“Knox, you’re a good man. I know you aren’t thrilled to be here in Utah. She’s not something to pass the time with.”

“She’s not,” I agreed earnestly. “She means a lot more than that.”

Grandpa studied my face for a few moments before he nodded, satisfied with my response.

“That’s what I needed to hear. Now go fix this. You owe it to her and you owe it to yourself.”

I wanted to tell him it wasn’t as simple as that, that there might be irreparable damage already done, but the look in his eyes stopped me. There was no room for excuses, only action.

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I will, Grandpa. As soon as I can.”

53

WAVERLY

The transition from being a simple assistant to an elderly man in my hometown to accidental model had been an unexpected twist in my life. It was a twist I never desired. The fashion show, the dazzling lights, the applause? It all seemed like a dream, or rather, a nightmare. Modeling was a world so far removed from my comfort zone that it felt like playing a character in someone else’s story.

The attention that came with it was even more disconcerting. Every trip to the grocery store turned into someone recognizing me and having an opinion about what I did. Men would look at me, then at their phones, then back at me. Their eyes filled with disbelief, as if trying to reconcile the girl they saw in person with the one they glimpsed on social media. It made me uncomfortable, self-conscious in a way I hadn’t felt before.

And the constant attention, the glances not quite discreet enough, the whispers behind hands were all so suffocating. I wasn’t Waverly anymore, or at least not to them. To them, I was a face on a screen, a figure in a magazine. Not a person with feelings and thoughts but a thing to look at and nothing else.

I had never been vain about my appearance before. But their stares made me conscious of every little thing. The way my hair fell around my face, the curve of my hips, even the way my lips moved when I spoke.

I was looking forward to hanging out with Janie and Meredith at my house tonight. They wanted to go out, but I could not fathom going into public.

When they showed up, I had just finished mixing a pitcher of margaritas.

“Why do you look so sad?” Janie asked as we sipped margaritas.