33. Chapter 33
Chapter 33
Delilah
T he line rings five times before the call is accepted on the other end.
“Hey, would you mind some help at the theater tonight?” I ask, eyeing the the swirling sunset above me, all deep oranges and reds.
“Give me that,” Faye hisses quietly, though I still hear it. “Lila, is that you? These damn interferences,” she says darkly.
“It’s a phone, Faye, not a radio,” I chuckle.
“Why are you calling?”
“Am I bothering you?”
“Sorry,” she grumbles. “I was–about to shower.”
Except now I could swear I hear a low murmur in the background. It must be the twins.
“Right, I just wanted to say I can come give you a hand at the–”
“No need! I might not even open tonight, who knows!”
“Ah, are you okay?”
“Duh, but if you don’t mind, the water is at a perfect temperature, and I can’t afford to miss the spot. I’ll text you, don’t stop by!”
With that, the line falls silent. I huff out a breath, then shake my head. Faye rarely misses the opportunity to get the projector going, but she is also particular sometimes, so I decide not to read too much into it. I stop in the square, taking in the faces of the vendors and people I’ve known all my life. It occurs to me, all at once, how all of them might keep their own little secrets I might never be privy to. Secrets that aren’t mine to know, and it’s hard not to ask myself if wanting Cedric to share his with me makes me a bad person. If I’m so desperate for my own to come out so that I can clear my conscience and be entirely myself, even the dark parts that I don’t want to think about. I guess there’s only one way to find out. It’s not like he’ll take up my suggestion to stay, and the idea that he’ll be gone so soon makes my throat constrict, but… I have already lost so much, it might as well be worth risking it all one more time. I just need to find a good moment, if that even exists.
I take a deep breath, and at a slower but sure pace, I make my way home .
Cedric
“So we agree,” I say over the noise, the room falling silent at the authority I will into my voice. You don’t grow up with a heathen for a younger brother and not learn how to achieve quiet.
“Sure, boss, unless Lila heard everything and the surprise is ruined,” Faye says with an eye roll.
She huffs out a breath, collapsing in a faux leather black bean bag. “She’s probably on her way back, so y’all better get out of here quickly, before she sees you and assumes we’re having an orgy.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose as chatter once again spreads at Faye’s comment, though I interrupt them by asking whether there is a back door we can use.
“There is, but you can’t open it–the kids have tried giving me a heart attack multiple times by using that door for nefarious deeds, so I shut it for good.”
“Nefarious deeds,” Ronnie repeats. “When did you get so fancy?”
“It’s called English, Ronnie! You might have heard about it,” she says with a sickly-sweet smile.
“Alright, then, everybody out,” I say, and when they obey, I’d be lying if I didn’t say I feel a prickle of satisfaction. I haven’t been able to keep one good thing in my life, but at least I can convince the people of Fern Port to leave a room. Not exactly CV material, but I’ll take what I can get.
Faye nods at me in salutation as her siblings rush out of a door which was closed until approximately five seconds prior, their small hands wrapping around my legs .
“Stay for dinner Cedruc! We’ll call Lila!”
“Yeah, Cedruc , we’re having mashed potatoes and roast beef!”
“You don’t know how to spell at least two of those words,” Faye says, begrudgingly untangling her limbs and rising to pull her siblings back. “And I’m not cooking for another person.”
“Believe it or not, that doesn’t offend me at all,” I tell her, straightening my pants.
“I wasn’t worried about that,” Faye says with a smirk. She lightly pushes the kids toward the living room, warning them it’s their last chance to watch TV until tomorrow. I eye them as they leap like frogs to position themselves at the feet of the couch.
“You’re good with them,” I say as everyone waves goodbye at both Faye and I, stepping out the door in a semi-tidy line.
Faye squints at me, crossing her arms against her chest. “If Delilah finds out you like kids, she’ll probably get down on one knee and propose,” she says.
“Who said I like kids?” I ask, though the image that pops in my head is that of me offering a fat diamond to Delilah and sliding it on her ring finger.
“I can tell, and Lila says that anyone who is good with kids and dogs can inherently be trusted.”
Of course she does.
“Yes, well, I can only hope I’m half as good as she thinks I am.”
“She can be too trusting, but I guess you’ve passed the check.”
“The check?”
“That’s me,” she says, as if it were obvious. “Go on, Lila will be home soon. ”
I nod, and as I turn, I immediately spot Delilah’s strawberry blond mane of hair standing before the path to her house while Ronnie keeps her occupied–and I sincerely doubt it’s for my sake. I could take a different road and leave so as not to rouse any suspicion, but since I’m here… there’s no good reason I shouldn’t seize the opportunity to spend more time with her.
I walk up to them, clearing my throat. Delilah turns, her face breaking open in a smile.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
“I was passing by.”
“What a coincidence,” she says, as Ronnie rolls his eyes.
“I don’t believe in those,” I say with a weak smile. “Have I interrupted something?”
“Actually–” Ronnie starts, though Delilah mercifully interrupts him herself.
“You can tell me all about your mother’s ankle on Saturday,” Delilah tells him. “Oh, you’re probably wondering what I mean! I’m having the usual get together for my birthday, you know, nothing fancy.”
“I’ll be there with bells on,” he says, and I shoot him a look as he waves goodbye, his eyes pointedly on Delilah alone.
“Stop frowning,” she says, pressing a thumb to smooth my forehead, that smile still playing on her lips.
“That guy is like a vulture,” I say, though I relax at her touch. “It seems I can’t let you out of my sight for a minute.”
“Well, he was here first, so technically–” she starts, clearly amused by my irritation.
“It’s not about seniority,” I say, reaching to brush my hands against her arms when she instinctively comes closer.
“And what is it about? ”
My eyes fall to her lips, thinking about this morning. About the first time I felt them on mine, slick with water. About how her smile is by far my favorite sight. The look I’m giving her must be telling enough, because Delilah smiles brightly and tugs me toward her house.