“That would be a crying shame,” he said. “I’m looking forward to the makeup sex.”
“What if we’ve made such a big deal out of it that we are both disappointed?” I asked.
“Has anything disappointed you so far?” he fired back.
“No, not with you, or any of my new friends since settling down here.”
“Whoa!” He jerked his head around to stare at me. “Did you say what I think you said? When did you make that decision?”
“I got a revelation in church last Sunday. I figured out that poker doesn’t mean as much to me as what I’ve found here. I’m ready to put down roots,” I answered and took another bite of the slice in my hands. “Are you going to take all the way to summer to decide what you want to do?”
“No, ma’am,” he answered. “I made up my mind at the Mendoza family supper. This is where I want to settle down and raise a family.”
Alert! Alert! He’s talking about a family. Are you ready for that?
“I want my kids to have friends that aren’t separated by social standards,” Jackson said. “I want to do more than have an oil companyin Dell City. It will take a few years, but eventually I want to bring in a doctor or two and build a health clinic. Maybe even a small hospital. I want to support the school system and bring life into the place.”
“Jackson, you are the boss here,” I told him. “Your children will be considered the rich ones no matter what you do. Maybe not like they would in Dallas, but in this place, you are a big fish. Your dreams are great, but even here, you are an Armstrong.”
“Carla, I don’t care how long it takes you to make up your mind about us. I’m a patient man,” Jackson said. “Which reminds me, my former team has been called out on a mission, so we won’t have that get-together that I invited you to. I’m already planning something for early summer, though, so keep your calendar open.”
“We’ll see where we are in this relationship at that time,” I told him.
“I can appreciate your independence, but I want to introduce you to my friends and my sisters.”
“And I said we’d see where things were,” I said with a bit of an edge in my tone. No one was ever going to make plans for me—with me, maybe, but notforme. I would not be a submissive wife, not after what Rosie had told me about her life.
I put the rest of my uneaten slice of pizza in the box, stood up, and put my coat on. “I think it would be best if you take me home before we say things that we will regret later.”
“I’m not taking you home until we talk this through.”
I opened the door and took a step out onto the porch. “Then I’ll get Ada Lou to drive me back to my trailer.”
“Okay, okay!” he growled. “I will take you, but I don’t like leaving things unfinished.”
In the romance books that I had read, when a couple had an argument, tears were involved. When they broke up for good, the heroine laid around in her pajamas for days and grieved for the love she had lost. Whoever wrote those books did not know Carla Wilson or Clara Williams.
I eyed the pizza when the urge to throw something at the walls came over me. “Just take me home. I’m through talking, and Ineed some space. We might revisit this someday, but not tonight or tomorrow. And, Jackson, I will not be manipulated or told how to live my life—not ever.” I stormed out to the truck, got inside on my own, and almost apologized for being so stubborn. But my pride wouldn’t let me say a word all the way back home.
“Can I call you or FaceTime with you?” he asked and opened his door.
“Give me a couple of days—and I’m quite capable of getting out of this vehicle on my own.” I got out of the truck before he could even unfasten his seat belt, and walked to the trailer without looking back.
An old song came to my mind from my playlist as I entered the house. The lyrics to Terri Clark’s “I Just Wanna Be Mad” seemed to fit the night just fine. I hung up my coat and went straight to my room without even saying a word to Tressa or Rosie. I found the song on YouTube and sent the link to Jackson. Then I turned off the ringer, tossed the phone on the bed, and went back down the hallway.
“You’re back early,” Tressa said.
My hands trembled when I opened the refrigerator and took out sandwich makings. “Yep, we had an argument, and I’m hungry. But I was a good girl and didn’t throw anything at the walls.”
“But you wanted to, didn’t you?” Tressa asked. “Did you at least stand up for yourself? If you ever let a man start telling you what to do and how to do it, you will lose yourself like I did.”
“I’m not a submissive little woman who walks two steps behind a man,” I barked.
Tressa pumped her fist in the air. “One for womankind.”
“I have to admit that I considered throwing pizza at him, and it was all over a silly situation. He wanted to plan a trip so I can meet his friends, and I let my anger get ahead of me. I’ve always done my own planning and traveled where I wanted,” I admitted. “Do you want a sandwich, or can I put this stuff back?”
“Leave it,” Tressa answered. “I’d love one. And let’s watch some television while we are eating. There’s a marathon ofFriendsplaying all week from seven to midnight every night.”
