Chapter 12
TWELVE
“Okay, you need to trust me on this one. Can you do that?” Ariana asked.
Leah turned onto a street that looked like the aftermath of a warzone—trash cans overflowing, boarded-up windows, cracked sidewalks, and a car so covered in graffiti it could’ve passed as an art installation.
“Ariana, where the hell are we?”
They were far from the Riverwalk now. Leah considered turning around, running toward the nearest place that didn’t feel like the set of an apocalypse movie—then the smell hit her.
“Oh, wow.” She inhaled so deeply her stomach growled, desperate for a sample of whatever magic was perfuming the air. It smelled like Sunday in her grandma’s kitchen.
“What is that?” Leah spun in place, nose twitching like a bloodhound on the hunt.
“You don’t recognize it, do you?”
“No.”
The street was a stranger to her now.
“Okay, imagine that car gone. The trees less wild. That building to your left was once a breakfast spot. The boarded-up place on the right? A bakery with the best banana pudding cookies you’ve ever tasted.
And right here—” Ariana stepped into the middle of the street and pointed to the cracked metal grate.
“This is where you got so excited about moving to Chicago that you dropped your last slice of pizza into the sewer.”
“Oh my God.” Leah’s eyes widened. “What happened?”
The neighbourhood was a shell of what she remembered—abandoned, run-down, almost completely unrecognizable.
“COVID.” Ariana shrugged. “Wiped a lot of businesses out.”
“It’s like a ghost town now. That’s really sad.”
“I know. I came back last year and couldn’t believe it. But—there’s a saving grace.”
She spun on her heel and gestured toward a small red-fronted restaurant wedged between two derelict buildings. The sign read Pizza? We’ve got you covered. The P on the neon sign was dead, and the menu in the window was so sun-faded it was barely legible.
“Is that the pizzeria?” Leah’s eyes lit up like Christmas morning.
“It sure is.”
The smell of garlic, tomato, and bubbling mozzarella spilled from the doorway, making Leah’s mouth water.
“But . . .how?”
“How did it survive?” Ariana asked.
“Yeah—nothing else did.”
“I asked the owner last time I was here. He said he became the neighbourhood’s lifeline.
Families were struggling, so he gave away free pizza.
Spent his life savings feeding people. Thought he’d lose everything—but when things opened up again, the community showed up for him.
Fiercely loyal. Kept him alive. Now he’s thriving. ”
Leah blinked back tears. “That’s beautiful.”
“I know. Just shows what people can do for each other.”
“And pizza,” Leah grinned.
Ariana laughed. “And pizza. Shall we?”
Leah practically skipped to the entrance. Inside, the warmth wrapped around her like an old blanket. They slid into a booth by the window.
When the server set down a steaming deep-dish slice, Leah’s eyes went wide at the stretch of molten cheese as she lifted it from the pan.
They dug in, laughing over their age-old debates about thin crust versus deep dish. For a moment, it felt easy again—like no time had passed. Like they were just two people who discovered quirky little places and fell in love with them together.
“Do you think it’s weird that half our relationship revolved around pizza?” Leah asked.
“I think it’s perfect,” Ariana said. “What else competes with pizza? We were never going to bond over broccoli.”
Leah laughed. “Fair point.”
She watched Ariana’s face—the way her eyes lit with each bite, the small, almost shy smile curling her lips.
Ariana cradled the slice in both hands, tilting it as though it deserved study.
Her brows pinched in concentration. Leah found something heartbreakingly endearing in it, this quiet reverence for simple joy.
Every so often Ariana let out a soft sigh of satisfaction, and it undid Leah a little more each time. The dimples when she smiled. The thoughtful way she chewed, savouring without pretence.
I miss you.
Leah bit her tongue against the words. They would undo her.
A smear of sauce clung to the corner of Ariana’s mouth. Leah stifled a laugh, grabbed a napkin, and leaned across the table. “Here,” she said softly, a teasing smile in place. Her pulse thrummed as she reached closer. “You’ve got something . . .”
Ariana froze, eyes flicking up to meet Leah’s. Surprise—then something else. Something that made Leah’s stomach dip. Longing? Or was she imagining it?
“Thanks.” Ariana’s voice was a little breathless. Her cheeks pinked. “Guess I’m enjoying this slice too much.”
Leah smiled, eyes lingering. “I think it’s cute.”
Ariana laughed lightly, turning back to her plate. Leah leaned back, letting the moment settle over her like warm syrup. She watched Ariana eat and thought—This could be the last time.
The last time they’d share something this ordinary. This easy. Just them, two halves of an old whole, pretending for an afternoon that nothing had broken between them.
She couldn’t pretend they’d end up best friends. That wasn’t possible. Her fear of seeing Ariana had dulled after the Harrison family trip, and that was something to celebrate. But friends? No. There would always be a part of her that wanted more. Always.
And yet in a few days, reality would snap back into place. Leah would go home to her too-quiet apartment and a job she wasn’t sure would ever feel like purpose, and Ariana would go back to Hannah.
Ariana would go back to Hannah.
The thought hit like a sucker punch. Sometimes Leah managed to forget, for a few blissful moments—but then it came roaring back, cruel and sharp: Ariana had a fiancée.
She couldn’t compete with Hannah—not that there was even an option to compete. But even if there were, she’d lose. Because the truth was simple, and it burned:
Ariana left Leah for Hannah.
Call it whatever you want. Reframe it however you like. The facts stayed the same.
Leah was second best. Always the option. Hannah was the choice.
She pushed back from the booth, her chair scraping the floor.
“Can we go now?”
“Is everything okay?” Ariana asked.
Leah nodded, still staring out the passenger-side window. It had been twenty minutes of silence.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Ariana, I’m fine.”
Ariana kept her eyes on the road, but Leah noticed the quick glances—those tiny turns of her head every few minutes. Finally, Ariana spoke again.
“Okay . . .have I done something wrong?”
“Why would you assume that? I just don’t feel like chatting.”
“You practically ran back to the car. You haven’t said two words since we started driving, and you’re frantically texting my sister.”
“How do you know I’m texting Grace?” Leah dimmed her phone screen almost to black.
“I can see her name at the top.”
“You shouldn’t be reading my messages,” Leah snapped.
“I wasn’t! I just glanced and saw Grace’s name, that’s all. I didn’t read what you wrote—but now I’m guessing it’s about me?”
“Not everything is about you, Ariana.”
“Wow. Okay.” Ariana’s tone was light, but Leah could feel the tension settle like a heavy blanket.
She turned back to her phone, fingers flying, aware Ariana’s question wasn’t entirely wrong.
Grace
ETA?
Leah
17:46
Grace
You’re early.
Leah
By 14 minutes?
Grace
Still early.
Leah
You’re lucky it’s not two hours early.
Grace
That hard to keep my sister entertained, huh?
Leah
It wasn’t, actually—until it was.
Grace
Not sure what that means, but I’ll dig for details
later.
Leah
Please tell me the cake arrived?
Grace
Like ten minutes ago. But in other news, check
out this amazing card me and Ezra made!
Photo attached
Leah
Who’s the one on the end that looks like a
snowman?
Grace
LOL! That’s you *crying emoji*
Leah
Ezra is OFF my Christmas list.
Grace
He did a great job! He’s just . . .limited. But those
giant buttons down the middle of your stomach?
Super flattering.
Leah
For a snowman!
Grace
Better than the one Dad drew.
Leah
Why am I not included in this masterpiece? What
am I supposed to give her?
Grace
I’ll write your name on mine?
Leah
Oh yeah. That’s not weird.
Happy Birthday Sis,
Love Grace, Leah, Ezra & Jonathan.
Grace
Not sure I’d put you second.
Leah
First?
Grace
Obviously.
Leah
You’re going to have to draw one for me.
Grace
What colour?
Leah
I don’t care.
Grace
Pink?
Leah
No.
Grace
Yellow?
Leah
Nope.
Grace
You literally just said any colour.
Leah
Any nice colour, Grace. You’re picking my least
favourites.
Grace
Red?
Leah
Better.
Grace
What do you want it to say?
Leah
Something generic. Nothing too soppy. And DO
NOT say “love.”
Grace
So . . .just, from Leah?
Leah
Yes.
Grace
Bit impersonal, but okay.
Leah
Grace . . .
Grace
Fine.
If there was a bet to be placed, Leah would wager every penny she had that Grace wasn’t listening to a word she’d said. Grace was sensible and obedient in most aspects of her life, but it seemed she saved all her mischief and rule-breaking for anything involving Leah.
“Grace will tell me what you’re saying, you know that, right?” Ariana jabbed.
“Fine by me. You’ll find out soon enough anyway.”
Time seemed to stop. Leah found herself willing the clock to tick forward.
She just had to make it back to the house, pretend they’d had a wonderful day, watch Ariana blow out some candles, then slip away unnoticed.
She could fake an illness the next day, warn everyone to stay clear in case it was contagious, and before she knew it, the trip would be over—and she could avoid Ariana for the rest of her life. Easy.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket, but she didn’t have the patience to bicker with Grace anymore. The colour of the card, and what was written inside, would have to remain in her capable hands.
“Have I said something that’s upset you?” Ariana asked.
“No.”
“Are you sure? Because you seem upset.”
“Do I?”
“Not upset enough to burn a hole in my suit jacket, but a little upset,” Ariana smirked.
“That’s not funny.”