Chapter Twenty-Four
Graham
I think you should know this is more than alarming,” Lily whispers. Her eyes catch on the view as we stand outside the old North Church in Portsmouth.
An art crawl is being featured along the streets tonight. Lily has always said she wants to fill her life with more art, so I thought this would be a great way to do it. My mom loves art as well, so it is a win-win.
“Meeting my family or being with me?” I look down at her with a smile.
“Neither. I am talking about the sheer number of people I’m seeing right now who should be on a sitcom and not casually walking through their lives as if they don’t belong on television.”
We took the day to explore the quaint neighboring city of Portsmouth. All afternoon, I’ve watched Lily’s blonde ponytail swaying through antiquated streets, coffee shops, and tiny shops filled with trinkets. She stops every few feet to look around her, like this old city is somehow new.
Now, we’re lingering under a tree with new green leaves, waiting for my mom and uncle to meet us for my birthday dinner. The sound of a violin and a trumpet mix somewhere from opposite directions. The music, the fresh air, the faint scent of the ocean on the breeze—all of it reminds me why I wanted to move here in the first place. There’s magic in the small towns scattered across New England. It feels as if I’ve come home but discovered something I never have before in the process.
“Thank you for being here,” I say, cataloging in memory the glow of Lily’s hair in the just-setting sunlight. Even though I know to expect it now, I’m still surprised every time I see it. I reach out to her, and she wraps her arm around mine. I’m still getting used to the fact that I can touch her and hold her and not have her respond with hostility.
“You’re welcome,” she replies softly. Tonight, she is wearing a black, short-sleeved dress that whispers deliciously around her frame. It’s the stuff of madness, with what I think is called eyelet lace and satin ribbon accentuating her waist. Despite the extravagance, the dress is also so very her, clothing the color of a silky raven mixed with elegance and femininity. She’s the element of dreams, this one.
True to her word, Lily agreed to meet my mom for the first time tonight—at my birthday celebration, of all days. We’re moving from kissing again to sharing birthdays. While it could be uncomfortable, given our fragile state as we move back into the realm of a romantic relationship, it feels like Lily should've always been by my side. Meeting my family is part of the script of our love story, and we finally get to move to the next scene together.
“You’ll get used to them,” I continue. “You’re used to dealing with all sorts of people at the café. If you can handle customer service, you can handle my mom. Fair warning: She’s going to want to adopt you.”
She looks at me as if she doesn’t quite believe what I’m saying but truly wants to. She smirks. “So, are you issuing any other challenges this evening?”
I say the first thing that comes to mind. “I challenge you to never leave my side.”
“For the duration of this dinner, you mean?” She swallows.
I decide to let her think that was my intention when, in truth, I meant forever. I quickly think to reassure her. “It’s just my mom and my uncle tonight, the two most important people in my life—not including Rafe, of course.”
Until you , I almost add. She hums her acknowledgment, the tone indicating that she’s aware of the addendums made since we were officially together. Because the most important person in my life used to be her. I want her to know she holds that place in my heart again, especially because it’s my birthday. I’m not sure if Lily remembers that I once told her my wish was for her to be with me for every birthday. It feels monumentally important that she’s with me today. It’s the first time my wish has come true.
I’m not a sentimental guy, except toward the people I love, but my birthday is another reminder of why I’m committed to being a man of my word and being known as a good man. While it’s wonderful to have the people we love show up at the major moments of our lives, we also feel and sense the ones who should be there but aren’t. That’s a different kind of grief. Every year, I’m grateful for my mom while also seeing a missing space that should be reserved for my dad, which has been empty since I was eleven years old. Having Lily tucked into my side feels like someone long absent from my life making their way back to me.
“S’mores!”
I hear her joyful voice before I see her. I cringe a bit at the nickname, but I can’t be too upset when I see Lily’s delight. Turning, I see my mother and my uncle descending upon us, my mother’s eyes already lighting up at the sight of Lily. My mother is hesitant—cautious, even—but the joy in her face shines brighter than her hesitation. My uncle is already looking at us like we’re one of his construction projects. He’s searching for the soft spots that could need some reinforcement. He knows what happened between Lily and me two years ago, so it’s only natural for him to be surprised that we’re here together.
I take charge of the introductions right away. “Lily, this is my Uncle John and my mother, Wendy.”
“So nice to meet you, Uncle John, and you, Mrs. Winnings,” Lily says with a sincere grin, stretching out her slender hand. She does a double-take and studies my mom’s face, taking in the long, grey braid draping over her shoulder. “Wait— you’re Mrs. Winnings?”
“Oh, please, call me Wendy,” my mother protests immediately with a soft smile.
“You know each other?” I ask as a fresh layer of nerves works through my system.
“Uhh—yes,” Lily starts. “Well, she’s been to the café. You’re the woman who told Rafe to ask Sparrow out last year, aren’t you?”
“Good memory. Great croissants, by the way. But I think you’d be more interested to know that I especially loved the pain au chocolat .”
“Thank you! They happen to be my favorite as well.” Lily’s full smile breaks out across her face.
Five seconds later, her eyes take on a devious sheen, and my stomach drops at the sight. Knowing Lily, she came ready to play and find any opportunity to tease me. Meanwhile, I’m still reeling from the discovery that the two most important women in my life have any sort of history at all.
Lily flashes me a pointed glance. “Wendy, I have it on good authority that you have some incriminating evidence on this gentleman beside me. I’m going to need to hear it as soon as possible. Never mind that he’s your son. And Uncle John, if you have anything to add, please do. It’s my mission in life to take him down a few pegs.”
My mother has the audacity to look delighted. She laughs. “Well, what would you like to know, dear? I can tell you a story about the time, as a little boy, when he walked around in nothing but his tiny white underwear and cowboy boots. Or perhaps you could use the story about his unusual habit of lining up his stuffed animals and toy soldiers like they were in a court of law and he was the judge?”
I’m already mortified, my mouth dropping open at how quickly I was demolished by my own dear mother. Lily’s laughter is loud and unrestrained.
“I already love this woman,” she says, wiping the edges of her eyes. “You’re my hero.” She turns from me to face my mother, and I can’t argue with that statement.
“Mine too.” I give my mother a look, and the look she sends me in reply lets me know she’s happy, which is good. I must be showing signs of healing, because she’s not looking at me with as much worry as she’s shown the last two years.
I try to hustle our little group along before my mother blurts out any more embarrassing childhood anecdotes. “Well, let’s go. I made reservations.”
We walk around the corner toward the outskirts of the city, where a charming row of shops and restaurants hugs the edge of the port. The view is a glimpse of a calm bit of ocean meeting a brigade of small boats. A bridge rises in the distance.
The evening is unseasonably warm for late spring. My mother and Lily brought jackets, so we agree to sit outside, the setting sun pleasant as the hostess leads us to our seats.
We peruse the menu and place our orders. I wrap my arm around Lily and revel in the way she responds by leaning into my side. I realize how much more relaxed she is outside of Birch Borough, an attractive glimmer of freedom and fun gracing her face, her laughter quick, and her hand warm intertwined with mine. While I wish things were the same all the time, it’s nice to get a glimpse of this hope of what we could be again.
“Okay, please do tell me more.” Lily leans toward my mother, her head propped on one hand as if she has all the time in the world to uncover incriminating evidence that I’m a flawed human being as well.
“Well, I’ll just say, dear, that Graham has certainly had his moments. But he’s always lived with such conviction, intent on making the best choices. He’s made mistakes, to be sure, but when he put his mind to something as a young man, there was no way you would ever talk him out of his resolve. His stubbornness was almost to a fault. ”
Lily stiffens beside me. When a faint memory of telling her, “I choose you,” on a studio tour in Burbank surfaces, I want to hide under the table. I’m not ashamed of saying the words, but I am getting tired of the looks of pity on people’s faces, particularly people who know our history. Looks like the one I’m currently getting from my uncle.
“Yes, he is very determined,” Lily affirms. There’s no need to insert an addendum, but she does. “From what I know of him, of course.” Changing the subject quickly, she inclines toward my uncle. “How about you, Uncle John? Or should I not call you that?”
He grunts in agreement, as is typical for him, but a smile plays at the edge of his mouth, which is noticeably contrary to his usually gruff nature. Of course Uncle John would like her immediately.
“This one here,” he starts, pointing to me with a look that makes me dread what he is going to say, “well, he used to want to go feed the ducks on the little pond behind my house. He wanted to feed them bread and all that before we knew it wasn’t healthy for them.”
I grip the edge of the table, my knuckles whitening, but I realize it will be of no use to interject. In fact, any reaction from me will probably only add to Lily’s interest.
“Anyway, Graham went to feed them and saw one he really liked. He went to go after it—only it wasn’t a duck. It was a swan.”
“Wait,” Lily says with such energy it’s like someone just told her she has a chance to win the lottery. “Oh, please, please, please tell me it’s a Jess from Gilmore Girls situation, and the mama swan attacked him.”
My uncle laughs. He laughs . “I don’t know who Jess is or whatever you just said, but the thing attacked him and got him good. I’m pretty sure he still has a scar somewhere behind—”
Desperately, I interrupt. “I got attacked by a swan. End of story. And just like Jess, I stand by my claim that the swan was at fault for false representation!”
“This is too good!” Lily practically squeals, her hand slapping the table with gumption.
My face flaming, I will it to calm down as I also catalog the delightful sound of Lily’s continuous giggle. To get her to laugh, apparently, all I have to do is keep feeding her stories that cast me in a less-than-stellar light. Noted.
“So, Graham ,” my mother emphasizes the word, thankfully not using my nickname again. “Have you found a house yet?”
And this is the moment where my water is suddenly the only thing I can focus on.
“What does she mean . . .?” Lily trails off.
“He’s looking for a new house so Wendy can take the apartment he’s got,” my uncle unhelpfully informs her.
“Oh, yes—I—of course,” Lily responds, although she had no idea this was my plan.
Two weeks ago, at a questionable hour of the morning, amidst the blurry haze of yet-to-be-had caffeine, I made a deal with my mother for her to move into my apartment in Birch Borough while I find another place to live. Moving to another town may have been mentioned. Unsure of what the future held for Lily and me, my apartment in Birch Borough suddenly felt like too much. I knew my mother would appreciate it, and it’s a good place for her to be in this phase of her life .
Oblivious to our discomfort, my mother continues, “And the work? Did you set up the LLC for your new legal firm?”
Lily inhales sharply. My heart sinks. I should’ve prepared my mother for this evening, but I was so consumed with spending the day with Lily, so tentatively hopeful about what has been unfolding between us, that I didn’t want to scare her away. It may be too late.
“New legal firm?” Lily breathes out.
My mother’s expression of confusion is enough to nearly break me. It’s not her fault I’ve had trouble finding the words.
“Uhh—yes,” I begin in reply to her, “I did.”
“Legal firm?” Lily says again.
“Pro bono work in the intellectual property law field. I want to help other artists in the area—or rather, everywhere, truly.”
“But you’re moving?”
“Yes.”
At this, Lily grabs the edge of my suit jacket and pulls me up. “Will you excuse us?”
“Why, of course, dear . . .” my mother begins, but it’s too late. Lily is already dragging me away toward a secluded corner of the patio. We need to get better at not abandoning tables and finding places to discuss important matters. First, the diner, and now this.
“What is happening?” Lily asks, her eyes wide and brow furrowed.
My hand is running through my hair before I can help it. Now, I recognize that it looks like I’ve been withholding information from her when, truthfully, I was only trying to protect myself. It’s still not a good look.
“Why didn’t you tell me?
My hesitation gives me away.
“Right.” Lily’s voice is thick with emotion, her lip between her teeth with worry.
“I didn’t say I was leaving Birch Borough, but with Rafe getting married and the extra space opening up, I wanted my mom to take my apartment. It’s on the first floor, so it’s a good fit for her at this phase of life.” I clear my throat. “At the time, it felt like moving would be a win for you too.”
Lily lifts her chin, the bottom of her jaw quivering. “So, all of these challenges . . .?” She trails off. “And where will you go?”
I don’t answer because my heart hopes the answer is obvious. I’ve only ever wanted to be with her. Anywhere with her. “I’ve been looking in Nashville.”
“You’ve been looking in . . .” she repeats, her rib cage rising and falling rapidly. “And the new law firm?”
I sigh. “I’ve been thinking for some time about a way I can use my experience to help local artists and musicians, the ones who can’t afford legal action after having their intellectual property violated or stolen, who don’t have people to fight for them to get the best recording deals, or someone to review their contracts. I hope I can help others like I’ve helped Rafe.”
She nods slowly and turns to walk back to the table where Mom and Uncle John are waiting politely in front of our just-delivered plates.
“Lily, please. Are we . . . okay?” I reach for her.
She fidgets with her dress, and I know there’s more to her reaction, more that we’ll need to figure out together .
“It’s your birthday dinner, not the time to talk about your new potential address,” Lily states matter-of-factly. “But, G, this isn’t over.”
My heart leaps when her hand stretches out for mine. I take it, and we walk back to rejoin my family. As we settle in and conversation and laughter take over the table again, I’m flooded with relief. In the back of my mind, though, I feel as if I am still waiting for the floor to give out from under me.
∞∞∞
“All this stuff should be banned,” Lily exclaims, a look of horror on her face as she picks up various flavored chip bags as we move through the grocery store. Because this is a small town, they’re closing in ten minutes, and Lily is taking her sweet time. From the looks the cashier is throwing our way from the register, I wonder if my date is doing it on purpose.
Dinner was enjoyable, but my mind was racing after our rushed conversation in the corner. When Lily went to the bathroom, I called off any plans my mother had for dessert and singing “Happy Birthday.” I wasn’t feeling festive anymore with the weight of the impending decisions ahead of me. We managed to see a bit of the art displayed, but we left after an exhibition of self-portraits that left me more confused than inspired.
Afterward, not wanting to leave her with unspoken words still hovering between us, we ended up back in Birch Borough for a riveting evening finale of picking up items we both need for the week. By the time we leave the store, we’re practically pushed through the front door as it locks behind us .
“Sheesh,” Lily mutters. She looks at me. It’s the first time she has looked at me in a while, her eyes seeming to wander everywhere but my face . . . again. I hate it.
She motions for me to follow her down the street, and minutes later, I find us at the back door of Sparrow’s Beret. Lily unlocks it and ushers us in, only turning on a few lights to keep it dim.
Moving to the industrial refrigerator on the wall, she pulls out a pastry box and sets it on the counter between us. Candles are taped to the top. She pulls them off, grabbing a lighter from a nearby shelf.
“Open it,” she instructs with a grin.
And when I do, there, in all its glory, sits a cake. From the smell of it, there’s peanut butter and marshmallow and some sort of chocolate hidden inside.
“You remembered,” I say softly. “It’s perfect.”
Her eyes shine at the compliment, and I see her gaze finally flit to my mouth. She lights the candles, and I let the light of the flame captivate my vision.
“Before you make a wish,” Lily begins, “I know why you didn’t tell me.”
“Lily, I was going to—”
“No, it’s okay.” With gentle pressure, her hand alights on my arm, a sad smile lining the edges of her lips. “You need to believe that I won’t do what I’ve done to you before. And I don’t blame you.”
She’s right, of course. We’re rebuilding our trust, but as much as I love her, I don’t know how I could ever live without her again.
The only words I can get out are, “I hope we figure it out.” Because I want this relationship to work, but trust takes time. She slips her hand into my palm, and I hold it tightly.
“Okay, make a wish before the place burns down, or the wax gets into the icing.” She shudders with a laugh.
When I close my eyes, all I see and feel is Lily’s presence surrounding me. Every word, every moment adds up to this. I’m content to hold her in my arms. Getting old with her would be a privilege. She sparks in me the desire to be open and to dream a little more. When I’m with her, I don’t want to take life so seriously. I know I could happily love her for the rest of my life, even when it hurts.
As I have done each birthday for the past two years, I wish for us. Then I open my eyes and blow out the candles. As the faint whiff of smoke drifts to the ceiling, its lingering scent singeing my nose, I look at Lily. There’s an expression on her face I’ve never seen before.
She is the first to break the silence. “I don’t want you to leave. That feels like something you should know.”
I swallow, the truth of her words settling into my heart.
She continues, “Graham, I know you won’t know what this means yet. But it’s not lost.”
“What isn’t?” I can’t help asking the question. I’m not yet willing to ask if she meant to use my actual name or if it slipped in just for tonight.
“Possibly everything,” she replies.
When she withdraws her hand from mine, I miss it instantly. She walks to a shelf where forks and plates are stored. She has only taken a few steps before she peeks back over her shoulder, a soft smile on her face.
“Oh, and happy birthday.”