Paige Rewritten by Erynn Mangum Read Free Book Online

have controlled better. “I worked. And then I went to dinner at the Cheesecake Factory with Luke.”
    Sometimes it’s best to just say it. At least, I hope that’s the case.
    Tyler just looks at me, chewing his burrito, the faintest glint of something — sadness? curiosity? worry? — in his eyes.
    I immediately keep talking, waving my hands for emphasis. “It was ridiculous, Tyler. He showed up at my work right when I got off and told me how lame it was that I was going to dinner by myself on my birthday, and he was really persistent, and I was just trying to get him off my back. We sat there for an hour and it was the worst hour of my life.”
    Tyler smiles then. “It’s okay, Paige. You don’t have to explain anything.”
    â€œWell, I just need you to know that Luke and I dated years ago, but it’s over. Okay?”
    He stares at me for a minute, searching my eyes. “Does Luke know that?”
    â€œYes.” Especially after last night.
    He just nods. “Okay.” He looks like he’s about to say something else, but then he stops.
    â€œPreslee came by today.” We should have asked for a bigger table with how much stuff I’m unloading at the moment. All of these issues aren’t going to fit with our huge plates.
    â€œPreslee, your sister?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œCool.”
    Obviously I haven’t shared a lot with Tyler about Preslee yet. But we are still just in the getting-to-know-you stage. We aren’t officially dating.
    I take that issue back off the table and try to swallow it along with my now-soggy pancakes.

    Eleven o’clock. And Galatians.
    I stare at the words swimming on the page in front of me, wishing I were one of those people who could do their devotional times in the morning. I’ve tried. I end up forgetting everything I’ve read and focusing on the coffee beside me.
    Coffee is a big motivator in the mornings.
    I read the same sentence for the third time. “For through the Law I died to the Law, so that I might live to God.”
    It sounds like one of those this-is-my-grandmother’s-third-cousin’s-son’s-wife sentences. I need a pencil to figure the sentence out.
    I’m too tired to go get a pencil.
    I look at it again. “For through the …”
    I rub my eyes and shake my head. Never mind. I’ll try again tomorrow night.

Chapter
    5
    T his is my one week out of the month when I teach the two-year-old Sunday school class. I used to teach it more often, but I’m working on not working too much.
    Like Dad told me, “Grace is free, but therapy is expensive.”
    I never really understood that until recently.
    I shower and pull on a pair of faded jeans and a black nicer top. Two-year-old Sunday school is not the time to pull out the fashion stops. Not that I pull out the fashion stops very often. The older I get, the more I cling to comfort.
    I never expected that to happen so soon.
    I mess with my hair for almost fifteen minutes and finally just pull it back in a sloppy, low bun. I’m teaching. I’ll use that as my excuse for everything today. I pour my coffee into a thermos and run for the door. I took too long on my hair today so there is no chance for breakfast.
    Maybe someone will bring doughnuts to church and feel sorry for me.
    I get to church and into my classroom right as the other teacher arrives with her son, Ben.
    â€œMorning, Paige,” Rhonda says all singsongy. “Beautiful day today. Benjamin, how do you say hi to Miss Paige?”
    Ben pops the three fingers he was chewing on out of his mouth and the drool crests over his chin. “Gwud mownin, Mwiss Paid.”
    â€œGood morning, Ben,” I reply, somewhat thankful now that I missed breakfast.
    There are weeks when I have definitely sworn off future children of my own after working in here. I just don’t have the gag reflex for parenting. Or the grime tolerance.