Chapter Six
Lily
W e’re only hours into gathering to plan the wedding wildness, and I’m ready to throw things. Sure, I’ve been known to chuck a baked good or chocolate bar toward unsuspecting loved ones in the past. This time, though, I want to throw something of significance. Maybe I’ll search for one of those rage room things in the area when we’re through with today’s meeting. That has got to work off some steam, right?
It has to be better than walking toward the diner—appropriately called Train Car Diner since it’s an actual train car converted into a restaurant and where I’m heading to meet with Sparrow and Rafe for an extension of kicking off the official start of the wedding festivities—and seeing Graham through the window. He’s sitting like the perfect model of a man that he is. Sparrow has never thought of him as more than undeniably handsome, but I still think he is the most stunning man I’ve ever seen. His light blue eyes are something I would write songs about if I had any of Rafe’s talent. Graham always smells like fresh air in the middle of how I imagine an English countryside smells. Darn all the romance novels I’ve read for making me wax poetic about the delicious manly scent that radiates from him.
I pause just before walking into the diner to sneak a second look at Graham. It looks like I’m the second to arrive, even after trying to time it so that Rafe and Sparrow arrive ahead of me.
His hair is light brown with natural highlights. They make him look like he just happened to be out in the sun, and it marked him from the rest of the world. I’ve always known he has money, but I also know how hard he works for every single cent. He’s the type of man who is so good you almost think he can’t be real. And when you do realize his polite and elegant mannerisms are genuine, it scares you to think that you could be the one to cause him pain. (Having already been the one to cause him pain, I know all too well that I’m right to be afraid of myself.)
All I know is that as I pull open the door and walk toward the table where he sits, his eyes flicker up to meet mine. And I think to myself that he shouldn’t be allowed to still look at me like I once lit up his world, even if the warm expression in his eyes fades moments later. Not when I’ve treated him the way that I have. I know what I am.
A long time ago, I learned it’s best to say what I am thinking. I don’t hesitate to poke buttons. After all, why are buttons there if not to be pushed? My theory is that you have to make sure they’re working now and then. Barring potential proposals, I always say what I mean because what’s the point in filtering myself? We’re all a bit of a mess because we’re human. I just happen to embrace it a little more than others .
I drag my feet as I approach the booth. When I get stuck behind a waiter delivering plates of burgers, fries, and a mountain disguising itself as a slice of lemon meringue pie, the delay gives me time to think about how I’m going to pull myself together.
Finally, the obstacle in the aisle clears, and I walk toward the man I’m doing my best to forget. Immediately, Graham slides over, making room for me to sit beside him in the booth. All I can manage to give is a slight, awkward nod in return, my words uncharacteristically lost.
At the church tonight, I nearly combusted. Graham’s willingness to help with the wedding while Rafe and Sparrow handle Rafe’s growing music career as I cover the bakery and my maid of honor duties was wild. I could feel him trying to avoid looking at me, and I nearly cracked. His mannerisms don’t just unsettle my mind; they unsettle my heart. Except for the time he cut me off before I could apologize for what happened between us, he is always the perfect gentleman.
I’m trying to think of how to break the awkward silence when Sparrow rushes in, her arm around Rafe. She looks up at him like he’s a living answered prayer, and I know he is that for her. Rafe has his arm wrapped around her shoulders. He kisses the top of her head so gently that something tugs within my chest. They slide into the seat across from us, faces beaming.
Happiness is all I want for Sparrow. However, I know things are about to change drastically between us as Rafe is now her “person.” I’ll always be the best friend, her ride or die when it matters most, but it’s shifting. I see it happening before my eyes. She’s becoming his, and he’s becoming hers. They’re about to make this “until death do us part” vow to each other, and it just aches a little. I feel as if the best I can hope for at this point is to volunteer myself as an apprentice under Gladys for Birch Borough’s resident busybody and wildcard commentator, who will end up with stories to be told to Sparrow and Rafe’s grandchildren.
Unwillingly, my eyes roam over to Graham. He is now leaning toward our friends. The hand closest to me is nearly clenching in a fist while the farther hand waves animatedly as he tells them a story. I’m only half-listening, which stands in sharp contrast to Graham, who is engaged in the conversation. He laughs when needed, giving frequent smiles of encouragement to Rafe and Sparrow, and is the perfect embodiment of a supportive friend. No wonder he’s the best man.
I take advantage of the privacy of the moment, however. I know he’s so focused on them he won’t notice my almost physical reaction to his nearness. I let myself bring our memories to the surface to inspect them once again. It’s a crime scene, and I make sure I don’t miss a clue or leave something behind that would unravel my alibi. Soon, I find myself focusing on the way he’s filled out his suit jacket since the last time I saw him, the taut muscles underneath telling me he’s been working out more. I catch a few new lines added to the sides of his eyes when he smiles, although the way they etch his face tells me he’s going to age really well (figures). And I’m struck by the thought that I could’ve had the privilege to see it up close.
My skin flushes with an unexpected heat. The diner is now too warm, the lights are now too bright, and the flowers in little vases on the tables are too . . . flowery. More people have entered. They chat with Lucy, the waitress who has worked at this diner since Sparrow and I were in high school. She appreciates my vegetarian self’s need for a veggie burger, and somehow, she once found a way to ask Jerry, the cook in the back, how to make the best barbecue veggie burger possible. I’m forever indebted to her for that kindness, among many others.
“Hi, darlings,” Lucy greets us. If she’s here, there’s no way that anyone else is serving us.
“Oh!” Rafe exclaims, rhythmically drumming on the table. “Lily, I was once told to ask you . . . why do you appreciate the name Lucy so much?”
“ While You Were Sleeping ,” Graham answers before thinking better of it. And my ears burn that he remembered such a detail and so quickly.
“That’s right!” Lucy grins. “It’s Lily’s favorite rom-com. When she learned my name, I immediately became her favorite waitress in this town.”
I give her a grin.
“Am I wrong?”
“No.” I shake my head, finally finding my voice after feeling like it dropped to the floor under the booth along with Graham’s two cents.
“What’ll it be?” Lucy lifts her order pad, pulling a pencil from behind her ear.
We give our orders. When she leaves, I start to bite my nails. My foot taps furiously (it’s doing that a lot tonight) as I wait for my friends to take a breath. Cautiously, I look toward Graham, and our eyes lock. In what I once declared a dead zone, I feel a fire reigniting. His proximity is going to be my undoing. If I can’t have him, then I have to banish him far, far away. Neverland is still too close.
Or . . .
“Let’s pick a song!” I yell like a madwoman, pointing to the jukebox in the corner.
Without looking at Graham, I grab the sleeve of his jacket and pull him out of the booth. Like the decent human he is, he apologizes for us both. I don’t know if it’s more annoying or comforting that I know he’s probably politely smiling as I drag him toward the opposite side of the diner.
“Excuse us,” he says pleasantly to the people mid-bite in their meals as we rush past. He acts as if I didn’t just attack him without warning, as if this was the plan all along. As soon as we get past the edge of the booth section, I whip around to face him. I focus on his throat and not his eyes.
“I know you can’t do this again, but just let me talk. Please,” I fiercely whisper (yes, it’s a term). Pushing my finger into Graham’s very defined and very broad chest, I try to commit the feeling to memory. Maybe tonight, before I fall asleep, my brain will catch up and tell me if it feels the same as a couple of years ago. I continue without pause. “I’m not sure what you’re really doing in this town or what stunt you’re pulling by agreeing to help with this wedding. I know you don’t want to be near me, but it’s tough cookies, buddy, because I’m not going anywhere.”
“I never said I didn’t want to be near you,” he counters.
I try to ignore his words because they instantly warm my insides like a hot chai latte. “Even so, we’re barely civil to each other.”
“That’s your doing,” he says.
“And yet, you’re the one who said you didn’t want to do this again . ” My breathing is labored, my rib cage rising and falling a little too quickly. My body is on sensory overload. For too long, my heart has been boarded up like an abandoned, haunted house when it comes to men—specifically, this man. By not loving him, I’ve turned into someone I don’t fully recognize. I need him to know how things have changed.
“A weird twist of fate has thrown us together,” I begin again. “But Rafe and Sparrow’s happiness is more important to me than anything. So, let’s set a few things straight and establish how the next few months are going to go since we have to work with each other. First of all, there will be no touching.”
He shakes his head without much of an expression.
“What do you mean no ?” I demand.
Graham shrugs. “You just grabbed my jacket. I’m walking you down the aisle. At that point, I’ll have to hook your hand through my arm.” He says the words like they don’t make me weak in the knees. Like I don’t instantly imagine the photos that will be printed and posted online of the two of us in a chummy setting with love all around, forever immortalized. Like I won’t print a copy to hide in my dresser drawer for the nights when I feel sorry for myself.
“Then that’s it. That’s the only time.” When he shakes his head again, I make a low growling sound in my throat.
“Rehearsal,” he reminds me quietly. I see him look around, probably making sure no one is observing me start to overheat.
“George.”
“Still Graham.”
I sigh. “No touching. Except for the wedding and the rehearsal.” I wave my hand in the air frantically. “You get it? ”
“Is there anything else you want?” The look in his eyes and the faint test in his tone takes me back to a night we got ice cream together. With sand between my toes, we sat on the beach to watch the waves rolling in on a spring night. Graham asked if there was anything else I wanted out of life besides gloriously immersing myself in chocolate decadence and travel. At the time, I said him .
“You’re not playing fair.” My voice is soft and hesitant.
He sighs, shifting his weight so he is leaning slightly away from me. “Fine, any other rules, then?”
But I don’t feel like setting up any others. I know if he doesn’t touch me (other than those few moments in the wedding and rehearsal, which I may be able to convince Sparrow to let me wear gloves to block out the feeling of his touch), I might be okay. Clearly, I’m struggling with even being near him, but I will myself to believe I can manage. I’ll behave in a civilized manner, except for saying his name. Before, I only called him Graham after he kissed me—and the one time I had hope after he arrived. But if we’re not kissing, he’s back to George in my book. He must be. I can’t handle letting him get any closer to me than that.
And I need to get him out of Birch Borough for my future sanity. A manic plan starts to form within my mind, and since I’m known for being impulsive, I follow it. “Change of plans. No rules,” I say.
His eyes widen. “No . . .?”
“I propose a game instead.”
The faint tick in his jaw tells me he’s intrigued. “What kind of game?”
I stand a little taller and try not to notice the way his expensive cologne is searing my senses. “Eh, not a game, exactly. A challenge. A series of them.” I can feel the sudden grin playing at the corner of my mouth. I have to applaud Graham for maintaining eye contact throughout this conversation while I keep trying to look everywhere else to hide what I’m feeling. He must have learned how to beat any rogue thoughts out of him when he became a lawyer.
“Challenges. Plural?” he replies matter-of-factly.
I nod.
“Proceed.”
“I will issue you a series of challenges leading up to the wedding. You can take them or leave them, but if you leave them, you automatically lose.”
“What sort of challenges?”
“They will be designed at my discretion with the intention of pushing you outside of your comfort zone.” And hopefully, drive you so crazy you leave voluntarily. I’m already thinking of how to involve Gladys.
“Will I be publicly humiliated?”
“Depends on how you respond. I won’t humiliate you on purpose, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“Will each one be with you?”
“What?”
“Will you be present for each challenge?”
Doubt suddenly kicks in to the rational part of my brain. I look over and see Rafe and Sparrow watching us discreetly. I don’t like where this is going, but I’m too far in now. Graham is right. Turning this into a game will require seeing even more of each other than I had planned. As it is, I’m pretty sure he thinks I’ve blocked his number (I haven’t). Still, I nod with a noncommittal shrug, and he relaxes a bit .
“Well, what’s at stake? What do I win? What do you gain?”
This, I can answer. I breathe in deeply before replying. “If I win, you rent out your fresh-off-the-market apartment to anyone who wants to experience the cozy New England life. I’ll only see you if you drive through town to meet up with Rafe. You can move to the next town over, or Boston, or back to LA. Maybe try out Nashville. I don’t care.”
He stiffens. I totally do care, but I’m not about to admit it. “So, losing to you also means I lose my home and get kicked out of town?
“Don’t worry about winning . . . because you won’t.” I know what I’m asking is absurd.
His eyes shutter a bit, the playfulness disappearing, only his iron will remaining between us. “But if I win?” he counters.
I bite the inside of my cheek. I’m playing to win, but an alternative future flashes before me—one where Graham and I aren’t at odds, and I finally get to explain myself. His nearness makes me wish for things I’m not sure are possible. There’s an absurd hope brewing that makes me willing to see if maybe there can at least be forgiveness, even if I’m unsuccessful in my mission to remove Graham’s presence here. I want it too much. I hear myself reply, “Then you stay in Birch Borough, and I don’t say another word about it.”
“You don’t have a right to tell me where to live, regardless,” he says, his arms crossing with a bit more confidence, revealing a flash of the man I remember handling difficult legal cases with unshakeable poise. “Yes, I moved here, but I didn’t think . . . you said . . .” He trails off, vulnerability visible on his face. “You have no reason to fear me, Lily.”
“Of course not. I’ve never thought I did.” And I don’t. Not one bit. If anything, my only fear is him seeing how much I still want him.
His instant relief is palpable but quickly reverts to detachment. His eyes scan my face with robotic precision instead of hunger. I hate the unexplainable urge to sob suddenly creeping into my consciousness.
“We’ve got to find a way to work together for Rory and Rafe,” I clarify. “Because if we don’t figure this out, it will destroy their wedding day. I won’t be responsible for bringing a whole vibe to their wedding that is honestly depressing.”
“Of course,” he affirms quickly. Neither of us would do anything to intentionally hurt our friends, even though I’m sure our mysteriously hostile dynamic is already a heavy thing for them to carry. Knowing this fiasco with Graham is temporary is the only thing keeping my voice from shaking.
“Do we have a deal?” I ask. My whole body wills him to agree. I need a sense of possibility that, even though I’ll inevitably see him because of our friends, he isn’t going to suddenly be in every area of my life. If I can’t have him and there isn’t forgiveness between us, I don’t want to run into him in town every single day for the foreseeable future.
Just have to get through the wedding.
Shifting his weight, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a few quarters. They clink and land with a sharp thud in the machine as he presses the button for the song on C18. “This Will Be” by Natalie Cole begins to play. Graham leans against the jukebox. His breathing is steady, but his body language is intentional. I feel the pinch on my spine from wearing higher wedges today than usual.
“Counter deal,” he finally says through gritted teeth. Standing up straight, his blue eyes are cool as he stares down at me.
I squint my eyes to see if I can break his concentration. No dice. I can see why people in the courtroom used to crack under his gaze. The man gives back nothing. But I know him more than I’ve let on to everyone else, so I step a little closer and watch as his calm fa?ade starts to crumble. The energy between us pulses with our proximity. I see it in the light tap of his right foot, the soft clearing of his throat, the almost imperceptible shift of his shoulders.
“My final offer,” he says.
Instinctively, I know he’s not just talking about some challenge. He’s talking about us. My heart rate picks up, and I take a step back.
“Proceed,” I choke out, stealing a word from his own playbook.
“I will go with your deal. It’s unhinged, but I’ll go with it. And I issue a counter challenge of my own.”
He looks around the diner once more, and I follow suit. Rafe and Sparrow are absorbed in each other, their faces all smiles. Lucy approaches them, and I note our food arriving at our table. As she walks away, they look around the diner for the two of us. It’s time to get back. Graham nods toward the little alcove to the side of the jukebox. I angle toward it as he protects me with his frame from the view of the rest of the restaurant. Whatever he’s about to say must be good. Really good.
Emotion creeps up my throat because he’s done this before. Covered me. Hid me. Made sure I felt safe and protected. Whatever he’s about to say, he doesn’t want anyone else to hear.
His right hand lands on the wall to the left of my face, and I try not to notice the lightening of his hair, where it might start to turn grey. I ignore the way his forehead casts a shadow over his pale blue eyes, enhancing their intensity. To anyone observing, I know his posture looks like Bill Pullman dreamily leaning toward Sandra Bullock. No one would ever know how it feels to have him so close without being able to call him mine.
“Throughout your challenges . . .” he begins. My heart beats so loudly it pulses in my ears. “I’ll challenge you back, twofold. First, I challenge you—” his voice catches like the needle on a record player before beginning again, “to never lie to me.”
I nod, even though I know this gives him the power to ask me anything, and I’ll have to respond with truth. When we first met, I demanded that he always tell me the truth, and I’m the one who lied. I don’t have it in me to ever tell him another one.
“And I challenge you not to fall in love with me. Again.”
I inhale sharply. My stomach feels like it drops to the floor. I search his features and realize he’s serious. He’s really challenging me to do this.
I swallow but can’t get the words out. The energy between us hums. I meet his gaze with as much intensity as I can muster. The flood of memories of moments just like this consumes my mind, but I push them back. One day, I’ll release all the emotion. But today is not that day.
So, I rise to my full height. My dress catches on one of the picture frames on the wall behind me. It shifts back into place as I stare into the eyes that I could draw in my dreams. With my back (literally) against the wall, I know I’m fighting for more than peace during this wedding. I’m fighting for my chance to finally move forward.
“Game. On.”
My whisper sparks something in his eyes, and I catch a hint of his relief. Does he truly think he will win this one? It’s too bad he doesn’t realize he’s already partly lost. Because to fall in love with him again requires me to have fallen out of love with him—which I haven’t.
He holds out his hand to seal our deal. I know I can’t touch his skin, though. It would release a torrential flood of emotions I can’t handle yet. It’s clearer than ever that I have to get him out of town because I can’t go back to what we were.
Sensing the war within me, he drops his hand and clasps it around the lapel of his jacket. I focus on it to displace my discomfort and have to suppress the smile that wants to creep onto my lips. Graham’s default outfit always has been a perfectly tailored suit and tie. Once, he shared some of the challenges he faced as a boy growing up with a single mother. After college, when success started coming his way, he developed his style sense as a way to leave behind the days of wearing holey shoes and hand-me-downs. The image of a young Graham dreaming of a better future has never left me.
I don’t make eye contact again as I turn away from him, not trusting myself to avoid doing something stupid like adjusting his tie or his pocket square just to feel like I’ve played a part in his dashing, well-groomed look. Thankfully, Sparrow waves us over, a French fry wedged between her fingers. She’s staring at me as if to telepathically let me know she’s worried for me. I’m worried for myself.
Pushing from the wall, I step around him. I have nearly left Graham in the dust when I hear him clear his throat behind me. I freeze, glancing over my shoulder as he takes a step toward me, the inexplicable pull between us still alive and well.
“And, Lily,” he says softly, his fingers clenching the lapels of his jacket. “For the record, nothing about this is fair.”