Paige Rewritten Read Online Free PDF Page B

before it starts getting soggy, and there really is nothing nastier than soggy bran flakes all clumping together.”
    I close my eyes. “It is too early to talk to you.”
    â€œWhich is why we should eat instead of talk. Come on, Paige. I didn’t even get the chance to give you your birthday gift yesterday.”
    I smile. “I’d like that.”
    â€œAll right. Ten minutes. See you soon.”
    The phone clicks in my ear. I go to find a pair of shoes and decide on flip-flops that do not look very good with what I have on but look supercute with a red skirt and white T-shirt. So it is time to change then.
    I stare at the jeans and gray shirt after I take them off. This is always a dilemma for me. I have technically worn them. Does that make them clean or dirty? My mother’s philosophy is that if it has come off the hanger, it’s dirty and should be washed before being hung back up. I think that has something to do with my dad. When Mom met Dad, he was cutting all the tags off his shirts and wearing the front side one day, then flipping them inside out and wearing the other side the next day.
    I think he called it “two-timing” his shirts.
    I don’t think Mom ever recovered from knowing that about my dad.
    I end up just leaving the jeans and shirt on the bed, and I’ll decide what to do with them whenever I get back. I stick my phone in my purse and am just sliding on a pair of silver dangle earrings when Tyler knocks on the door.
    He is standing there grinning at me behind a huge bouquet of yellow roses. “Happy birthday!”
    I take the bouquet, trying not to blush again. “Thanks, Tyler.” The flowers are already in a vase, which is a relief.
    I’m the worst floral arranger in the history of bouquets. Somehow I always get half of the flowers cut three inches shorter than the others.
    I smile at Tyler. Tyler is a software engineer, but you’d never be able to tell it by the way he looks. Most of the time he wears jeans, flannel shirts, and work boots. Right now, he’s wearing cargo shorts, a T-shirt, and flip-flops. I am fairly certain this is the first time I’ve ever seen his feet.
    It can be a scarring thing to behold a man’s feet.
    Tyler’s aren’t the worst I’ve ever seen. They aren’t the best either, but considering the fact Tyler thinks jeans without holes are “nice” clothes, I am not too shocked.
    His blond hair is all curly, like he forgot to run a comb through it after his shower. I smile wider. I like it like this.
    â€œReady for second breakfast?” he asks me as I set the vase on the kitchen table.
    â€œDepends. Are you ready for first breakfast?”
    â€œI’m starving.”
    â€œI bet. It’s almost eleven.” I pick up my purse and follow him out the door, then lock it behind me. When we get to the base of my stairs, he smiles warmly at me and gives me a side hug.
    â€œI’m sorry I had to work so late yesterday. Where should we go to eat?”
    I shrug. “I’m good with whatever.”
    â€œOh great. You’re that person. I might have to rethink this.”
    â€œWhat person?”
    â€œThe ‘no, really, whatever you want to do is exactly what I want to do’ person. I’m sorry, Paige, but if this is going to work, I’m going to need you making approximately 50 percent of the decisions.”
    I grin at him and follow him to his blue truck. “Yeah, but you haven’t made any decisions yet either.”
    â€œI did too. I decided we should go out to eat.”
    â€œI am fairly certain that does not count.”
    He holds the passenger door open. “Well, one of us has to decide.”
    â€œHow about that pancake place over by that pet store? They’ve got brunchy stuff.”
    â€œSounds good.”
    He drives there, talking the whole time about how busy work is and how sorry he is that he missed seeing me on my