“I’m home by ten most nights. That’s as huge as I need to get.”
Bex shakes her head at me and picks the coffee back up, and for the first time since I’ve known her, her eyes go glassy. She built this out of a man who told her no, and I let her have the moment, because she earned it more than I did.
Bex walks me through the money, the markets, and the schedule. I sign where she points and then I watch as she dances with joy.
I go down the hall to tell Paige myself, because I want to be the one to tell her. She’s writing on her wall when I step in.
“Uh, what are you doing?”
“Elle told the construction guys to paint my wall with whiteboard paint so I can have one massive calendar. Each color is a different band.”
“That’s genius. I apologize now for ever punishing you for coloring on your walls.”
Paige laughs. “What’s up?”
“We got it,” I tell her. “National. Two hundred cities.”
She screams. Actual screaming. Then she cries. Paige isn’t a crier. Not unless something isn’t going her way or she’s overly excited.
“Holy shit, Dad. This is so awesome.”
“Crap. You’re not allowed to say shit.”
“I’m allowed. Mom said.” She cocks her eyebrow, challenging me. I leave it alone.
“Thank you.” I pull her into a hug. “You really helped create this program. If it wasn’t for you, I’m not sure we’re doing much of this.”
“I’m happy to be on the team.”
I stop in the breakroom before heading into my booth. In Bex’s spot is Ember. I put my headphones on and chat with her quickly. She gives me a similar rundown as Bex would’ve and tells me she’s not afraid to cut anyone off. I like her already.
“You’re on The Love Line with Liam.”
“My wife wants to renew our vows and I think it’s a waste of money. Talk her out of it,” the man says.
“I’m not going to do that,” I tell him. “The vows aren’t for you. They’re for the woman who married you scared andhopeful, and she wants to stand up and say she’d do it again. Spend the money.”
He’s quiet for a second. “Okay.”
“You’re on The Love Line with Liam.”
“My husband got a job across the country and wants to take it. My whole family’s here. I’ve been sick over it for a week,” a woman says.
“Go look at it together,” I tell her. “Not to decide, just to see what the place is like. You can’t weigh a place you’ve never seen against the one you’ve had your whole life. Then you talk it out as partners. Nobody gives up their family on a maybe, and nobody kills their husband’s shot without seeing it first.”
“You’re on The Love Line with Liam.”
“My husband passed in the spring. My kids want me to sell the house. They say it’s too much for one person, and they’re right, it is. I just can’t make myself put the sign in the yard. I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” a woman says.
“Nothing’s wrong with you,” I tell her. “That house is where he still is. You don’t owe anybody a timeline on that. When it’s time, you’ll know, and it won’t be because your kids talked you into it. Sell it when it feels like a house again instead of like him. Not a day before.”
“You’re on The Love Line with Liam.”
“My girlfriend roots for the team I’ve hated my whole life. And I mean screaming-at-the-TV, ruined-Sundays hate. My buddies keep telling me it’ll never last,” a man says.
“Your buddies are idiots,” I tell him. “You’re not marrying a team. Twenty years from now the standings won’t matter and she still will. Buy her a jersey in your colors, let her wear the other one to bed, and count yourself lucky the worst thing about her is her taste in football.”
“You’re on The Love Line.”
