3. Eight Years Later
Chapter 3
Eight Years Later
Lila
The shrill sound of the alarm clock I’ve had since I was a teenager pierces through the air, jolting me from my sleep and back into consciousness. A groan escapes my lips as I roll over, turning my body in the direction of my nightstand, where the alarm clock sits.
I’ve done this more than enough times to count, so without even cracking my eyes open, I feel around with my fingers until they graze the small knob that turns off the alarm.
I sigh contentedly, dropping my weight blissfully back into the bed. I can feel myself slowly drifting back to sleep when the offensive sound of the alarm starts blaring again. I sigh a second time, this time one of annoyance. I always forget that I set two alarms, five minutes apart because the first one rarely ever wakes me.
With a huff, I drag my hand across my groggy eyes, finally cracking them open. A sliver of golden sunlight hits my eyes from my bedroom window with its curtains drawn back. Sitting up in bed, I glance around my room, eyes finally settling on the nightstand beside me.
6:10 A.M.
Another yawn and a long stretch later, I’m finally starting to come awake. The thought of a hot cup of coffee is the only thing strong enough to pull me from my cozy bed.
I risk a glance at myself in the full-length mirror next to my door just before I head downstairs to get started on it.
As I expected, my eyes look sleepy, and my hair looks like a rat’s nest. The only remedy for this is a very long, hot shower.
I make my way downstairs, heading straight for the kitchen, my footsteps echoing loudly in the empty space.
The last time I lived with anyone was with my best friend Sue, but I said goodbye to that life when I planned her wedding eight years ago.
We spend significantly less time together now that she’s married. She and her husband Greg are real estate agents and travel around a lot for work, but we try to get together at least once a week when she’s in home in Boston.
After what happened at her wedding, all I wanted to do was get away, and I even contemplated moving. I was this close to accepting a position from a company in Dallas that would have kept me busy traveling, but in the end I turned it down.
Boston’s home. My sister is here with her husband and kids, and my business is here.
Instead of running away, I doubled down and started my event planning business, and while some would argue that as a thirty-nine-year-old unmarried woman with no romantic prospects, I should have other priorities, It’s none of their business. I’m happy with my life.
Really I am .
I refuse to spend any time wondering why I keep feeling the need to convince myself more and more of this lately.
I turn on the coffee maker and rifle through the fridge, quickly whipping out some eggs and a pack of bacon to make breakfast. I have about an hour till I need to be in front of the computer for a meeting, then off to scheduling and making purchases for a project I’m currently working on.
With breakfast done, I pour a steaming cup of coffee and make my way to the table to enjoy life’s little moments. Nothing says good morning like coffee, bacon, and eggs.
Thirty minutes and a hot shower later, I’m standing in front of the mirror, brushing out my wavy, dark brown hair. I throw on a loose-fitting, cashmere lounger, another thing to add to my list of work from home perks.
I stare into my gray eyes in the mirror, trying not to focus on the dull look in them. I whisk on a coat of mascara, blush, and lip gloss and make my way to my office.
I’m seated in my office chair a minute before my call starts.
Time flies as I continue placing calls and double checking that the details of every event are going smoothly. I’m someone who prides myself on my work. Everything needs to be perfect.
By the time I glance at the clock that hangs on the wall just across from me, I realize just how much time has gone by. It’s almost 2:00 P.M. already.
I need to pick Sue up from the airport in an hour.
No matter how much she travels, she likes the idea of getting picked up from the airport when she comes home, even though she could just take an Uber like everyone else.
So, whenever her husband Greg is out of town, like now, I pick her up.
I don’t mind though; I treasure every minute I get to spend with her. Maybe we’ll do happy hour before circling back to her house.
I can’t help the grin that comes with the reminder of just how much I’ve missed Sue. She’s been away for two months now, but at least this is the last trip for a while.
Stretching in my seat, I decide to heat up some leftover pizza for lunch.
Leaning against the wall of my kitchen, I count down the seconds on the microwave till my food is ready. A quick glance at the clock lets me know that I still have fifteen minutes before I have to head to the airport.
Trying to kill some time, I start making myself a cup of lemon tea to go with the leftovers.
I glance around the kitchen loving the feeling of coziness that it gives me. It might sound weird to someone else, but it gives me a sense of comfort, almost like a hug. It’s my favorite place to be. Wooden cabinets stretch along one wall, while the granite countertop and fridge fit snugly against each other, like they were meant to be. The sink and stove sit right in the middle of everything, making it easy to move between them. Copper pots hang above, catching the light, as the smell of basil, thyme, and oregano drifts in from the windowsill.
I was one of the lucky few to get into this apartment complex. It’s owned by a wealthy Boston family foundation who’s vowed to keep the rent controlled. I’m grateful for this because although I own my business that’s growing every year, it’s certainly not bringing in the big bucks. This may be small, but it’s perfect for me.
I mean it’s not as if I have a husband and k—
The kettle starts to whistle, thankfully pulling me back from that road I was starting to go down. I grab a cup from the cupboard, pour myself a cup of tea, and walk over to my small dining table with the steaming beverage in my hand.
I sit for a few minutes trying to keep my mind occupied, doing a mental check of my list that I need to get done. Laundry, groceries. My eyes settle on a flickering lightbulb overhead. I really need to get that fixed.
The clinking sound of my metal spoon against the porcelain teacup echoes loudly in the empty space. I take a sip and close my eyes, the sense of loneliness I’ve been trying to keep at arm’s length breaking through, hitting me like a ton of bricks.
I take a deep breath. I’ve always been the biggest believer in love. I’ve convinced myself that when the time was right, everything would naturally fall into place, but it’s getting harder and harder to hold on to that conviction, because love is certainly taking its time.
I’m turning forty in a few months, and there are zero romantic prospects in my life.
Being single has certainly afforded its own privileges, but sometimes—times like this when the emptiness of my own home threatens to swallow me whole, the quiet of it all driving me halfway to insanity, I’m forced to contemplate my decisions.
After taking some time to regroup after the debacle at Sue and Greg’s wedding, I doubled down and instead of being a general event planner, I transitioned to strictly weddings, anniversaries, and baby showers. It’s kept me busy falling in love with other people’s love so much so that I never really had the time to be lonely.
I finally admit to myself that maybe I’ve been using it as my crutch.
In times like this, the idea of having a partner seems even more appealing than usual. I wonder if—.
The shrill sound of my phone ringing on the table beside me jolts me back to reality. Sue’s name flashes across the screen.
“Hi, best friend.” I smile, already anticipating the warmth of her familiar voice.
“Hi, honey, we landed early. I hate to bother you, I know you’re prob—”
“Say no more.” I’m already pushing back my barely drunk cup of tea and standing to my feet.
“I’m leaving right now. This time of the day it should take me less than twenty minutes,” I finish, grabbing my keys off the table.
“Okay,” she says right before I hang up.
I rush over to my car, speeding out of my driveway.
Seventeen minutes later, I pull into the arrival section. Sue is waiting for me at the same spot she has every time I’ve come to pick her up from the airport.
I get out to meet her, and my face breaks into a wide smile as soon as my eyes land on her honey brown ones. Her own grin covers her entire face. I run straight into her arms, wrapping her tightly in a warm embrace. She smells like spicy vanilla, just the way she always has. My body relaxes against hers, my grip around her getting even tighter.
It’s only been two months, but it feels much longer. We finally pull apart, both of us grinning like teenagers.
“Sue.”
“Lila,” she whispers at the name, “I’ve missed you so much,” she says, taking my face in her hands, studying me intently as I do her. I’ve always loved how her big, brown eyes look like a pool of chocolate, the soft crinkles around them from her ever-present laughter enhancing them even more. Her long, dark hair is piled on top of her head in a disheveled bun, the result of several hours on the plane. Her skin has a radiant glow. I have no idea how she never looks tired, even after a long plane ride.
Sue has been my best friend since high school, and we’d do anything for each other.
“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart,” she says in that motherlike tone she always seems to have reserved specifically for me. I inwardly smile. Sue has always been the grownup, even when we were teenagers.
“Right back at you. Welcome back,” I smile, throwing my arms around her again. A chuckle slips past her lips, her arms pulling me back into a big hug.
“It’s good to be back. Although I have to admit that it would’ve been a better homecoming if Greg were with me,” she sighs, her expression turning cloudy for a moment.
“Where is Greg?” I ask.
“He stayed back in Denver. Apparently there’s another client he needed to meet with that was going to take a little bit longer. I was so ready to get back home, I left. He should be back in a week,” she says.
“That time will fly by before you know it,” I smile, taking her bag from her side.
“Yeah, but I’m going to miss him terribly,” she pouts. I can’t help but laugh and roll my eyes at her dramatic sigh. Those two have been inseparable since they met, fell head over heels in love, and got married all in the span of a few weeks, eight years ago.
“Come on, you big baby. Time for happy hour, so we can catch up on everything that happened in the last two months,” I say.
“A mocktail sounds perfectly refreshing to me,” she says.