Chapter Ten
Graham
H onestly, I think I know how to get a suit tailored.” My tone is a bit salty, and immediately, I wince. We just finished an early dinner at Train Car Diner, and Rafe asked to tag along to see my suit for the wedding. “To make sure I fit the look for Hallmark’s casting department.” He threatened to send them a headshot (which I don’t have) if I went alone.
I’m about to suggest he take acting lessons since he isn’t fooling me at all.
“Affected by a certain blonde woman much?” Rafe replies with an easy grin.
While I genuinely care for him, I feel the need to smack it off his face. I think being around Lily again is infiltrating my thoughts with more aggression than usual. I don’t know what to think about it because everything in me seems to be reverting to an unfamiliar primal response. I release a grunt and keep walking down the street, the warmth of the early evening sun shining on my face reminding me of a certain hike Lily and I took in the foothills of LA long ago. I swear my shoulders have been hunching lately, like the earth is dragging me downward, though that’s not the look I would ever go for. I’ve worked hard for my good posture.
My mother’s best friends knew how to ballroom dance. I have vivid memories of Donna and John telling me to hold my shoulders back, soften my hands, and move to the music as I pretended to lead a girl when I was only twelve.
With my self-taught sense of style, I recognize that I look more like I belong in a city and not in a small town, but I’m not letting go of my fashion sense. My teenage years were spent working a job after school to help pay our rent, always trying to hide the holes in the bottoms of my shoes from my mom. I still tighten my feet in my loafers when it rains.
As soon as I could afford it, I made sure that no one had any reason to suspect that I used to live on fluffernutter sandwiches (a New England thing with peanut butter and marshmallow crème taking the place of jelly) or used to study by candlelight like characters from a Dickens’ novel to save money on the utility bills. Those days are over, and I’ve never looked back. Now, I almost only ever wear suits, donning shorts or sneakers only to work out or on special occasions. It’s odd how we can be so far removed from what we once were, but one tangible reminder or piece of clothing can make us feel pulled into the past.
I shake my head to free my mind of the memories and try to focus on what I’m about to get into. Rafe may think he’s clever, but based on the looks he keeps throwing my way, I know Sparrow must be waiting for us at All Sewn Up, the dress shop and tailoring service here in Birch Borough.
If Sparrow is there, a certain blonde woman who floated through my dreams last night isn’t far away. Rafe’s hand lands on my arm. We pause, and I see the sign for the store glowing like a beacon in the distance.
“Hey, wait up, Graham.” His insistent tone makes me turn to him. Rafe’s face is serious. “I’m sorry,” he continues. “I shouldn’t have joked about her.”
As the courage I’ve built up suddenly starts to wane, I give him a quick nod. I know I need to get used to Lily’s presence circling me again. But my tense mood isn’t just because of my constant awareness of her. This town is sinking into my soul in the best of ways. In addition to living near my best friend, Rafe, I can see Sparrow becoming a dearer friend too. She’s not just my best friend’s girl. I need to get this right. I’m ready to put down roots, build a home, and start a family. But the more often I see Lily, the more unsure I become that my dreams are ever going to be possible.
I wince again and will my face not to freeze that way. Rafe pulls me toward an alcove as a family passes us on the sidewalk. The sight of their happy faces makes my heart clench a bit.
“Please tell me what happened between you two,” he says.
He doesn’t even have to say her name. We both know whom he is referring to. Even though I knew this day was coming, I feel the embarrassment and shame creeping up my neck. A flush overtakes my face, as it always does when I think of Lily rejecting me on the beach that night. While I war with myself on where to begin, Rafe’s gentle nature and patience assure me that it’s time to tell the truth.
“Um, so . . . ” I say as a stellar beginning to this cautionary tale, “Lily and I knew each other before I moved to Birch Borough. ”
He nods for me to continue.
“We saw each other for a while.”
Rafe’s eyes widen. “Wait—as in . . . Lily went out with you on purpose? Like it wasn’t some sort of fake-dating scenario?”
I rear back. “What? No!”
Suddenly, it strikes me how weird it probably is to see two grown men having a deep chat near Bette’s Ice Cream with families and high schoolers moving in and out. I direct us toward a store that is already closed for the day. Even though it is only early evening, in a small town, you learn that you’re no longer in the city rather quickly when you want a coffee at 5:00 p.m., and everything is already closed.
“Okay, so, you went out with Lily . . .” Rafe muses. “ When ?”
“LA.”
“When was she in LA?”
“A couple of years ago . . . for a chocolatier-intensive course.”
“Wait. Is this when you ignored my calls for weeks and had that goofy grin on your face when I showed up at your house before you kicked me out and told me you were on a quest to find yourself? I thought you had lost it. You were just . . . with Lily? I mean, we met in LA, so it’s not too far off . . . wait—did you follow her here?” Rafe’s voice has risen an octave since the last question.
“No,” I protest immediately. “I mean, she mentioned this place, but I thought for sure she’d be gone when I moved here.”
Rafe’s eyes narrow. “Did you hurt her?” His unusually gruff tone sends me rearing back again. “After observing your obvious tension around each other, I’ve been wanting to ask. And if you did, so help me . . . she is what I imagine a sister would be. I love you, man, but this is—”
“Will you quit with that? I . . .” I trail off because the words are just so hard to get out.
“You what?” Rafe asks the question softly, but I hear the anxiety in his tone.
We’re treading into dangerous territory since Lily is Sparrow’s best friend, and we both know it. What I am going to say might change his opinion of the situation—maybe even of Lily. I don’t know how to feel about it. I don’t want to misrepresent what happened. Silently, I remind myself that it is best to just keep to the facts, and maybe the truth will surface.
“I told her I loved her,” I say the words bluntly.
Rafe blinks. Once. Twice. He furrows his brow. “I need to sit down.”
I follow him to a bench a few storefronts away, and we sit.
“You . . . Lily . . . love ?” He hunches over, his forearms resting on his knees. A sense of dread fills my gut. I nod as I feel Rafe look toward me. “Did she know how you felt about her?”
I nod again.
“Did . . . she love you back?” Rafe continues, his voice incredulous.
If I thought I was right in trying to avoid this conversation before, my instinct proves correct when I realize it’s hitting rock bottom for him to question it. “I thought she did.”
Rafe’s hand brushes through his hair. I hear him speak in French under his breath. He stares across the street. My friend seems beside himself. I think of suggesting we drop the conversation and just continue to the tailor’s shop. Discreetly, I check my watch. In four minutes, we’ll be late, and even more alarms will go off between the four of us.
Before I can speak, Rafe turns to me. “ Dit moi. Tell me. ”
Scratching the back of my neck, I release a sigh. “There’s nothing to tell. I had a ring in my jacket pocket; she saw it and went home. Back here. She said what I thought were mutual feelings were one-sided. I never heard from her again.”
“A ring ? C’est impossible ! You wanted to marry her?” Rafe hops up like he just can’t help himself. His fingers move as if simultaneously playing an invisible piano near his legs while also strumming an air guitar.
I count nearly to twenty by the time he settles beside me again, his face lined with distress. Because of course he is—just as I was for him when he wasn’t sure how things would turn out with Sparrow. Except, now Rafe is about to get married, while I’ve felt the sting of what happens when things don’t work out. When no one fights for you. When there’s no forgiveness to be found.
My eyes burn, and I want so badly to clear my throat. I wanted to marry Lily so much that it made me sick when I realized it couldn’t happen. I feel his hand rest on my shoulder. I look around the little streets of Birch Borough, a far cry from the city, but they are still places in which I have found refuge.
“Graham, I’m sorry. I really am.”
And I know he means it. Giving a slight nod, I make eye contact and try my best to grin. I know it looks forced, but I try .
“So . . . you . . . moved here despite everything? I mean, I can’t say I’m unhappy you did because, wow, it’s changed my life. But this just feels like torture for you.” Rafe’s eyes widen, and I see the reality of my situation sinking into his brain.
I know how to put it into perspective for him. “Wouldn’t you have done the same if Sparrow was torn from your life, and this was all you had left of her?”
He doesn’t have to answer me.
“I know it seems ridiculous, but I didn’t think she’d be here. I had reasons to think she wouldn’t be here.” I sigh. “Still, I should’ve told you sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t. But when I realized she was still here, and you had already met Sparrow . . . I just couldn’t . . . I . . .” There’s no need to finish my train of thought. Rafe gets it.
“What are you going to do?” His words echo throughout the approaching evening. The weather is causing me to shiver a bit as it wrestles with the lingering chill of winter to allow it to turn fully into spring.
“I’m going to get fitted for a new suit—even though I already have a closetful. I’m going to stand beside you and be happy for you. Then I’m going to leave town if Lily wins the bet she dared me to. Considering my counter challenge is for her to keep herself from falling in love with me again, there’s no hope for winning. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you’re married and safely tucked away in your new home first. Not ever kicking you to the curb, man.”
I stand and am a bit relieved when Rafe steps in line beside me. A warm glow from the shop’s interior is within reach when Rafe tugs on my arm. “Graham, I’m not one to give you false hope. I hope you know that. ”
My jaw clenches, and I nod, expecting the worst.
“But I’ve seen the way Lily looks at you. And I think what may feel like scorn is, instead, proof of how much she cares.”
Before I can respond or process the monumental words Rafe just dropped into the air between us, his focus shifts to the smiling woman waving through the shop window.
“Go on,” I tell him.
He bounds up the steps and into the shop like a man in love. Through the glass, I watch his reaction. His expression is in awe of Sparrow. He grabs her hand and twirls her around in a dress (not a wedding gown), laughing as he pulls her close. He whispers something in her ear just as Lily emerges from behind a curtain in the back that must serve as a dressing room. Rafe and Sparrow react to her arrival with obvious enthusiasm. Instead of turning to them, she looks around the shop. Her hesitant expression seems almost as if she’s looking for someone. A level of vulnerability flashes across her face. I see a flash of the woman I once knew so well, and my heart immediately clenches.
Could she be looking for me?
Cracking my neck, I walk up the steps and open the door. Immediately, I am hit with the force of Lily’s stare.
Knowing I am about to be near her again has me so on edge that I just now catch sight of what she’s wearing. She is so beautiful that I can’t even speak. On Lily’s slender form is draped a black satin gown, halter-style, with a sort of collar around the top that resembles a large choker. Even though the fabric circles her neck, the deep V mesmerizes me. Before I can think better of it, my greedy mind takes in the rest of the gown. It molds perfectly to her waist, showing off the curve of her hips before it flares out and down. The hem hovers just off the floor. Her toes peek out with a light blue nail color that I know I’ll try to find in the sky tomorrow.
Must get a grip.
Heat creeps through my hand with an intense flash. I want to reach out and touch the curve of her waist to see if the feeling is different from when she’s worn clothes in another material.
“George.” She states the word as a fact more than a greeting. Her tone shakes the rogue thought from my mind.
“Lily.” My voice doesn’t crack, and I take that for the win that it is.
“I thought you’d have enough suits by now that you wouldn’t need this appointment.” She lifts her brow.
“I don’t.”
“Then what are you doing here?” Her arms are crossed, her posture guarded in every way. Sparrow and Rafe are watching us, and I hate that nothing I can do will erase the history between Lily and me. It hovers in the air between us, a hunter that we can’t ever outrun.
“My friends asked me to be here. So, I am.” So simple but true. She doesn’t need to know what it took from me to walk through the door. What it takes from me every time I’m around her and trying to pretend that my smile hasn’t changed.
“Okay, well, we’re heading out,” Sparrow says so quickly that I know something is off. I narrow my eyes, trying my best to suss out an ulterior motive, when Rafe gives me a grimace. He mouths that he’s sorry. I stuff my hands into my pockets to keep the frustration from pouring over .
Lily appears beside me, encroaching into my space. “You’re leaving?” she asks them.
The faintly shrill quality in her tone reveals just how on edge she is right now. I used to think I brought her peace, and the change in knowing how nervous she is to be alone with me—even in a public place—sends me reeling. It’s a sucker punch to my ribs.
“Rory, I can’t— I need help with the dress,” she continues shakily. Her nerves make her voice louder than I think she intends.
“Oh, well, have Graham help you,” Sparrow replies with a smile that is a little too wide to be considered normal. “Oh, and Graham, you know what? I think a black suit you already have in your closet will work just fine!” She moves quickly to the door and is on the sidewalk without looking back.
“No problem,” I call after her stiffly, now fully aware that I was never getting a new suit for the wedding in the first place.
“Good luck!” Rafe is pulled through the door behind her. I see him glance through the window with a shrug and a sorry gesture before he’s gone. So much for being my best friend. I may have to rethink who is suitable for that role in my life if I make it out of here in one piece.
I clear my throat and turn to the wide-eyed woman beside me. “You need . . . help?” My words sound forced, but I’m doing my best not to look like a complete fool. It’s not working.
Lily bites her lip, frustration written all over her. I assess the situation as discreetly as I can. I’m trying my best to figure out why she won’t be able to get out of this dress alone while simultaneously willing myself to look away and not think about her stepping out of it. It’s a conundrum.
She stirs, and the dress rustles. I look up to find Lily standing in such a way that the mirror in the main room gives me a clear glimpse of the back of the dress. My mouth goes dry. Her whole back is exposed, except for the choker piece, which has tiny buttons running down the length of it—lots of them. And it hits me why she would struggle to get out of the dress. Someone has to assist her with the dozens of buttons.
“Isn’t there someone else who . . .?” I trail off.
“Normally, yes,” she affirms. “But it’s bingo night at Gladys’, and Shirley told us to lock up.” She points to a set of keys on the counter across the room.
“And you can’t take this home?” I immediately cringe.
“To sleep in it, George? No, I can’t.” She turns toward the mirror and reaches behind her neck to fiddle with the buttons. I hear her say under her breath something to the effect of, “Should’ve worn the blue one,” and, “Last time I try vintage,” and, “Let’s see her try to make maple croissants without sugar.”
I’m a little afraid of the threats pouring out of her mouth and am about to call it a night and let her fend for herself when I catch the shakiness in her hands.
If Lily is my nemesis these days, I’ve caught her in the most vulnerable moment. I debate just letting her figure it out because as much as I want to show her that I’m still here—still wanting to be beside her—I also think she’s wrestling with wanting to love me back. She told me she wanted to be someone’s first choice but didn’t believe me when she became mine. And seeing her like this leaves me feeling more raw than I care to admit .
I back toward the door to allow my lungs the space they need. It only seems possible to breathe when I’m farther away from her. But my heart has a different mission. I remind myself to let her know I’m not the enemy.
“Challenge me,” I blurt out suddenly.
“What?”
“With anything. Challenge me. Please.” Hesitantly, I move closer, willing my hands not to reach for her.
“You don’t need to do this, George.”
With what can only be described as a growl, I close the distance between us.
“What are you doing?” she exclaims, her eyes catching mine in the mirror. She sees me backing up and then coming forward again. Not my proudest moment.
“I’m helping you.”
“Why?” The question hovers, her eyes never leaving mine. It’s the hottest form of tension, watching each other in the mirror. It creates a level of removal that allows us not to feel as if we’re purposefully staring. Except, the moment proves even more intense because I can see myself too. I see the thin veil of sheer attraction in my eyes, my clenched jaw, and the way I’m leaning toward her more as the seconds pass. There has always been a transparent tie between us. Now I have proof of our connection. We don’t often get the gift of seeing what we’re really like in a situation and realizing it is not what we imagine.
“Why, George?” Lily pleads.
“Because you need help.”
We still haven’t broken eye contact, and my hands hover just above her shoulders. “I’m going to need to touch your neck to get at the buttons. I won’t touch you more than I have to. Is that okay?”
At this, she looks at the carpet, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. I wait for her answer. More than just the opportunity to touch her again, this moment is the chance to know, on some level, she still trusts me enough to let me.
In the mirror, she meets my eyes once more and nods. The lighting in the room makes her eyes look greyer with hardly a trace of the lavender color that only seems to appear like a solar eclipse—rare but sightworthy when it does.
Slowly and carefully, I press my fingers to the tiny buttons, more than a half dozen of them mocking me. My fingers tense, begging me to commit to memory every detail of this moment. As I struggle to undo one of the elastics caught around a satin button, my thumb slips and taps the bare top of her back. Lily sucks in a breath, and I immediately drop my hands.
“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to . . .” I begin. I’m cut off by Lily’s hand reaching for my own. The ends of her fingers wrap around mine. Our gaze connects in the mirror, and I spot the glisten in her eyes.
“I know.” She takes a deep breath. “I know.”
I shake my head and try again. I notice details I never noticed before. I marvel at the tiny pieces of her hair that have fallen from her ponytail, the edges tracing the curve of her neck. The hair on her arms is standing at attention. Her spine shivers when I make it to the bottom of the row, and my fingers release the fabric.
“All set. You’re free.” I try to flash her a grin in the mirror, anything to lighten the moment .
Lily turns toward me, one hand holding the now open collar so it doesn’t fall forward. The other hangs loosely at her side. “Thank you,” she says.
I severely dislike how small she sounds. I want to tell her I would still be more than kind to her if she’d let me.
“No problem,” I reply, even though we both know it’s not true. Being near her is a problem. For both of our hearts.
She walks toward the dressing area. I turn to leave when I hear her footsteps stall. Looking back to make sure she’s okay, I see we’ve struck the same pose but mirror each other. Her chin is over her shoulder, eyes heavy.
“You were kind to me just now”—a long pause—“and I know I don’t deserve it.” She says it so matter-of-factly, but I don’t miss the sincerity in her tone. And then she’s gone, the swish of the fabric of her dress fading as my heartbeat rings in my ears.