30. Lila
THIRTY
LILA
Why does the universe hate me? The Fourth Fest is the most important event of my summer, a day for me to show off my event planning talents and prove Sunshine can trust me with the tourism position. It’s my day to shine. Instead, all I want to do is curl up on the sidewalk and moan.
Other than that, it’s going great.
When I came downtown early this morning to run our final checks for the parade, I thought the oppressive heat was just an uncharacteristically brutal July fourth. I chalked my tumbling stomach up to nerves. I didn’t have much explanation for how badly my skin ached, but I ignored it as much as I could.
When I finally noticed I was the only one sweating through their clothes, I started to catch on that it wasn’t just a hot summer morning. The call is coming from inside the house. Something always goes wrong on event day. I’ve just never been the obstacle before.
It doesn’t matter. I have to get through this. Tonight, after the fireworks are over and I collapse into bed, I can let myself be sick. Until then, I’ve got to power through .
Like a boss , my internal cheerleader says. She’s too tired to lift her pom-poms, but it’s the thought that counts.
It’s fine. Everything’s going to be fine. It’d be cool if the street would stop spinning, but as long as it doesn’t interfere with the parade floats, I can live with it.
I have a small group of volunteers helping me coordinate the parade participants and make sure everyone’s lined up and heading out on time. The lead-up to the official route is a rattling chaos of marching bands, classic cars, emergency vehicles, and floats created by various local organizations, but I barely see them. It’s taking everything I have to stay standing upright.
I managed to snag a patch of shade for my supervisory duties. So. Technically still a win. My head throbs and my skin hurts and my mouth is Sahara dry. But getting a drink of water at one of the hydration stations feels like a dangerous game to play with my stomach. I close my eyes and pray for a miraculous healing.
The blessing will come. Any second now.
Any. Second.
When the last firetruck heads onto the parade route, I take a minute to sag against the closest building. Brick is not the most comfortable material to rest on, but it’s this or the curb. I promised Grant I would meet him after the parade, but getting to him feels like Frodo tasked with taking the ring to Mordor.
Grant would like that little simile.
I need time to recover, but every minute that goes by amplifies one of my symptoms. The day isn’t over just because the parade is. I’ve got to check in on the market vendors and make sure everything’s going smoothly at the music pavilion. Get in touch with volunteers and sponsors. Greet people with a smile. Not to mention I planned to oversee the fireworks tonight. I’ve got to suck it up.
Unfortunately, I have lost all ability to suck.
Or something. My brain isn’t functioning right.
“What a parade, Lila.”
I straighten and flash a huge “I’m not sick at all” smile. Mayor Martinez has found my sulking spot. “Did it look good out there?”
Back here, it was a lot of practice baton-twirling and exhaust fumes, but everyone lined up on Sunshine’s downtown streets surely had a different experience.
“Might be the best I’ve ever seen. Easily twice the size of last year’s. You and your sister have brought new life to Sunshine’s events calendar.” He looks me over, and his enthusiasm fades. “Are you feeling all right?”
“I just got overheated in the sun. Thank you.” Obviously I’m not going to tell him that my internal organs are liquefying as we speak. That would be unprofessional.
“After seeing what you’ve done with the parade, I can’t wait to find out what you have in store for us in your tourism presentation next week.”
“I think it will wow you.” Oh please, let it wow him.
His warm, fatherly smile shines out. “I fully expect it to.”
He really is the nicest, but I cannot keep up this chat. It’s taking too much effort to stay upright. I can’t carry on a conversation, too. I wave him along the street. “You should check out the live music. It’s a bluegrass band playing first.”
Mostly, I need him to walk away so I can slump against this nice, cool brick building again.
“I’ll do that. See you next week, Lila.”
He steps off the sidewalk to greet some of the other volunteers. Disaster averted.
For the moment.
I swallow hard and start my trek toward the intersection where my family planned to meet. If my thoughts were a little more coherent this morning, I would be concerned about Grant spending the whole parade with my parents. Mom probably fished for information the full hour. If he’s lucky, Hope stuck him next to Griffin.
Actually, the most likely scenario is Mom set her camp chair between the two of them and dug around in everyone’s love lives to the tune of “Stars and Stripes Forever.”
Walking the two blocks to the little patch of grass on Larch Street was a terrible idea. I should have flagged down the motorcycle-riding clown with the dog in a sidecar and asked for a ride.
Ugh. I’ve got to be out of it if I’m thinking about hitching a ride with a clown.
Finally, I spot a bunch of heads I recognize: Mom and Dad, Hope and Griffin, and Grant. Another sign of how out of it I am? The way my heart dances to see him with the people I love best, like he belongs right there with them.
As though I love him, too.
He turns and sees me, and he instantly knows . Not about the stupid thoughts in my delirious head, thank goodness. But his brow furrows, and he frowns my way like he can tell at a distance something’s off. Might not take intuition, though. I’m walking like I’ve got glass in my shoes.
He jogs over to me. “Princess?”
I smile up at him. “How was the parade?”
“Impressive. You did a phenomenal job putting everything together.” He tilts his head down trying to reach my eye level. “Are you okay?”
I raise my hand to wave off his concern, but it feels like I’m moving through jello. Air should not have this much resistance. “I’m great.”
He slants his mouth at me as if that’s all it takes to get me to confess my sins. Like I’m going to immediately cave. Like I’ll just do whatever he wants? —
“I think I’m coming down with something,” I say softly.
He lays a hand on my forehead. I close my eyes and lean into it as if that’s normal. His palm is nice and cool. I could stay here a while.
He drops his hand. “You’re burning up. Let’s get you home.”
I snap my eyes open, wishing for the hand of comfort back. “I can’t leave yet. I have to make sure everything’s going smoothly with the market vendors and check on the live music over at the…”
My mind totally blanks. I blink into the crowds, searching for the right word. Finding nothing, I improvise. “The live music place.”
Nailed it.
His small smile hits me straight in the heart. He really should watch it—I’m not prepared to withstand him today. If I look at his dimple, I’ll pass right out.
“I can hear it from here. Things are going just fine over at the live music place.”
My family joins us, camp chairs slung over their shoulders as they prepare to head out. Mom takes one look at me and frowns.
Okay, maybe I’m not hiding my sickness as well as I thought.
“Lila honey, what’s the matter?”
“I’m just feeling a little off. I’m okay.”
“She’s going home,” Grant says.
I glare at him. My admiration for his in charge side comes and goes. Right now, it’s gone. “Not until I check on the rest of the festival events. I have a job to do.”
“I can help.” Hope steps up looking just as worried as the rest of them. “What do you need me to do?”
“I don’t need anything. I can do it.” It will take approximately three hours to walk the single city block to the festival, but I can do it.
“Lila, please.”
My sister doesn’t fight fair. If she turned around and argued with me on this, I would just dig in and refuse to back down. But using her soft and gentle voice? I want to sag in defeat.
“You helped me with my festival. Let me help you with yours.”
Okay. I kind of do sag in defeat. At this point, everything should be fine. Nobody’s texted me with an emergency. So far, mine is the only setback for the day. Fingers crossed it stays that way.
“If you would just check in with Sonja. She’s handling the musical acts. I texted her this morning, but I wanted to see it for myself.”
“We’ll go right now.” She nods at Griffin, who didn’t need the encouragement to join her. “I’ll take some video for you. How about that?”
“Thank you.” It’s a whisper. I’m stupidly emotional.
Because I care so much about live music. Obviously.
“Now you need to get home and get to bed, young lady.” Mom manages to soothe and scold like I’m a little kid. It’s honestly kind of nice.
“I just want to see the market.” I’ve seen it before, but today, it’s mine .
“Then I’ll help her get home,” Grant adds.
“Thank you so much.” Mom sounds like he just offered to give me a kidney.
“Take care of her.” Dad nods at him as though this is a solemn duty. But Grant nods back like he’s making a promise.
Okay, then. I’ll let him be in charge for a little while.
Grant scoops an arm around my waist, and we slowly start walking toward town square. Every step is a tiny torture. Truly, this was a terrible idea. I can just recuperate right here in the gutter, can’t I? That’s about as far as I want to walk surrounded by excitable crowds. I can’t bear having this many people see me so out of it, but the need to make sure I’ve done a good job overrules my tattered pride.
“When did this start?” he asks softly.
“This morning.” Probably don’t need to add that it’s getting worse.
I make it as far as the street bordering town square. Inside, colorful awnings cover market booths, and crowds swarm the stall aisles. Kids run around waving flags and dragging balloons behind them. It’s noisy, happy, festive fun. Exactly the way I’d hoped it would be.
I just wanted to have some of the festive fun, too.
I spot the refrigerated red Blackbird’s cart where Tess and Wren are selling hand pies. Next to them, August does a complicated dance featuring glow sticks that aren’t providing much glow in the bright sun.
I point him out. “August’s having a good time.”
A man with red hair pulled into a knot at the back of his head and a trim beard walks up to the cart. He wears a T-shirt and athletic shorts that reveal a prosthetic leg. He’s grinning at August, but it takes a second for Tess to finish up with a customer and turn to him. She’s obviously surprised, but even from here, I can tell she’s happy to see him.
True, she’s usually happy to see everyone, but this feels like a different sort of happy.
“Oh,” Grant says. “I didn’t know Ian Vaughn lived in Sunshine now.”
“Who’s Ian Vaughn?” I watch like a creep as Tess, August, and the man who must be their neighbor, Ian, walk together through the crowd, leaving Wren at the bakery cart grinning like a Cheshire Cat .
“A famous climber. He got injured two years ago, and then sort of fell off the face of the earth.”
Grant goes on about this climber guy, but the wind shifts, blowing smells from the food trucks over to us. The strong odor of hot dogs and barbecued meats makes my stomach clench. Maybe things are worse than I thought.
“We need to go,” I say, interrupting him.
“Bad?” he asks, already helping me move away from the festival.
“Very.”
We make slow time up the block toward my apartment. I’m as patriotic as the next girl, but I just want this day to be over already. Unfortunately, it’s got yet another fun surprise up its sleeve.
Josh, of course. He looks put together as always, fashionable and handsome and cold. He slows in the middle of the sidewalk, not caring that people have to shift to walk around him. They’re beneath his notice, so their inconvenience doesn’t matter.
Why? Why did I ever fall for him? Was I really so caught up in his looks and the status symbol of being with Seattle’s golden boy tech guru? There was more, once. In the beginning, he wielded charisma and confidence like a master. He drew me into his circle, and I was only too happy to be there. But after his flattery turned to criticisms, it became impossible to keep up with his expectations. And now that I’ve seen through him, he has nothing but contempt for me.
My stomach churns harder as he strolls the last few feet to us.
“I was hoping to run into you two.” He wears false friendliness so easily it’s disgusting. “I’ve been thinking about buying interest in a retail business. Diversify a little. Know of anything I could dabble in?”
It’s his way of letting us know he’s researched Grant’s family business. He’s probably dug through every scrap of information available to the public, looking for something to exploit. Grant doesn’t take the bait, so Josh keeps going.
“It would have to be publicly traded to be worth my time. Anything else is just a hobby business.” He grins as though he’s offered us valuable advice instead of a direct insult. “Right, Irwin?”
Maybe it’s the fever affecting my brain or maybe I am just completely done with Josh Brandt, but he found my limit and pushed me over.
“You can stop the games. We don’t care what you dabble in. You’re a conceited, thoughtless jerk who isn’t worth Grant’s time. And you lost the right to my time when you cheated on me.” I stand as straight as I can when I would really rather double over. “You are beneath us.”
That speech would feel a whole lot more satisfying if my stomach wasn’t capsizing.
His sleek smile slips. “Lilabird?—”
I lurch a step closer to him. “Never call me that again. I’ve always hated that nickname. If you call me that again, I’ll…I’ll…”
It’s too late. I don’t have time to run, turn, or even move. My stomach heaves, and I throw up right on his shoes.
It’s disgusting, and I have to be an absolute wreck to do something so humiliating in broad daylight on a public street, but I couldn’t stop if I tried. The crowd parts around us, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.
Two very telling things happen at the same time: Josh dances back several paces to try to escape the splash zone, and Grant holds onto my arm and rubs my back making sympathetic sounds.
He is an angel in human form. A human angel, cinnamon roll, mountain man.
“These are Tom Ford, Lila!” Josh doesn’t shout, but his low- level seething is hostile enough. “Calf leather! You idiot! They’re ruined.”
Grant straightens, still holding me upright. “If you say one more word to her, more than just your shoes will get ruined today.”
Okay. Deadly human angel, cinnamon roll, mountain man.
Josh’s mouth twists like he’s trying to figure out how a fist fight would affect his company’s stock price. Or maybe he’s trying to figure out how losing the fight would affect his face. Eventually, he skirts past us, straightening his shirt and muttering about his shoes.
My stomach picks that moment to make a truly terrible sound. Fair to say, my digestive system has thrown me under the bus and then backed over me today. Maybe it’s retaliation for all the trail rations I had on the hike.
“Okay, that’s it, princess.” Grant’s voice is sweet and soft again. “Let’s go.”
I don’t resist. “I need to call somebody to clean that up.”
It’s right on the sidewalk and everything. People move around it, watching me like they expect another show. Whatever good opinion people in Sunshine had of me, I just vomited all over it.
“Text them if you need to, but we’re getting you home.”
I wish I’d stayed there in the first place.
The day and night are a miserable blur of feverish chills and frantic vomiting. I try to dissociate. It’s not me puking my guts out while Grant holds my hair. It’s not me stripping down to a tank top and shorts because I’m so terribly hot. It’s not me lying on the cool bathroom tile while Grant strokes my back and puts wet washcloths on my forehead .
He stays through it all.
It’s horrifically mortifying.
It’s incredibly comforting.
I wake up in my bed, daylight poking at my eyelids. I’ve got that too-aware sense of clamminess that lets me know my fever broke. I’m still too hot, but that might be because I’m cuddling something warm. No, wait.
Someone .
I crack an eye open, and it takes a minute to register that my hand is wrapped around Grant’s bare thigh. He’s sitting up next to me in my bed—fully dressed in shorts and a shirt, FYI—but I’ve got a death grip on his leg just above his knee. Why is my number one goal in sleep, cling to Grant ?
Oh. Well. I guess I know the answer to that. Because he’s deliciously cuddly.
I tilt my head to peer up at him. He’s smiling over one of my paperbacks. This man is reading one of my rom-coms. If I had any strength, seeing him like this would whisk it all away.
Eventually, his eyes catch mine, and he sets the book aside. He gently brushes hair from my face, delicately trailing his fingers over my skin. “How are you feeling?”
“Less like a goblin. You’re reading one of my books.”
“The vampire cat is an interesting take.”
“He’s one of my favorites.”
His fingers smooth over my hair, and he smiles at me as though he didn’t watch me empty my stomach all night. “What do you need?”
“I need to know how long I’ve been accosting you like this.” I extend my fingers…and curl them around his thigh again. I will claim medical im munity.
“Not long. Next?”
“I’m sorry you missed the fireworks. They were supposed to be really fantastic.” All part of the Fourth Fest Extravaganza I tried to provide and utterly failed to witness.
“I’m not sorry. What else?”
Hmm. Not food—that feels too optimistic. Not more cuddles—sleep-Lila apparently gorged on them.
“Maybe a shower.” I’m still sticky from sweat, and I probably smell like a sewer.
“I’ll help you.” He hops out of bed, coming around to hover and help me sit up.
I’m still a little woozy, but my stomach doesn’t lurch at the change of position. That counts as a good sign. He slips an arm around my waist and slowly helps me to the bathroom, stopping on the way so I can grab a clean change of clothes. He arranges me on the closed toilet seat while he starts the shower as though we do this every day. When the temperature’s just right, he kneels in front of me.
“If you have trouble standing on your own, I’ll help you shower.”
I stare at him until an actual hint of pink hits his cheeks. He just might be the sweetest, most wonderful man in the world. Universe, even. Not even Krypton makes them like him.
“Platonically,” he adds.
“Are we? Platonic?” This isn’t the smoothest time for defining our relationship, but he’s the one who cracked that door open.
“No. But I can be a gentleman in a medical emergency.”
“You’re always a gentleman, but I think I’ve got it.”
He nods once, leans forward to kiss my forehead, and stands. “Call me if you need me.”
He closes me up in the bathroom, and I think I might swoon. Sure, it might be from severe dehydration, but most of it’s him.
I take a quick shower, and if I don’t totally feel like myself when I finish, I’m at least clean. I open the door and lean against the jamb. Grant’s at my side before I can even tell him I’m ready.
“I’ve got you.” He helps me pad across the floor, watching me for any signs of distress. I climb into bed, pulling the sheet over my legs. “Do you feel up for some water?”
I nod, and he crosses the room to my kitchenette. He grabs a glass and fills it from my filter in the fridge. It’s the tiniest of gestures, but it feels just right. Like he belongs here with me.
When he returns, I only take a few sips. I don’t want to upset the precarious balance my stomach’s got going on. I snuggle back down in the sheets. Grant stands by the bed, and I can feel his wheels spinning from here.
I reach out to take hold of his fingers. “Will you stay a little longer?”
“Sure.” He rounds the bed to get in next to me. He lays down on top of the sheets and soothes one hand over my back. I’ve never felt so taken care of before. Like I’m the most important person in his whole world.
I’m practically asleep again already. “Did I really throw up on Josh’s shoes?”
The memory’s too vivid to be my imagination, but it doesn’t feel real.
“A surprising bit of revenge, princess.”
My eyes are closed, but I hear the smile in his voice. I love that smile.
I think maybe I love all of him. His gentleness and kindness. His ability to absolutely kick butt anywhere outdoors. The way he defends me and believes in me and encourages me to believe in myself .
“Thank you for taking care of me,” I whisper into the sheets.
His answer comes back soft and low. “It is my genuine pleasure.”
I love Grant’s heart. It was taken for granted in the past, but I would cherish it. I would always know what a gift it is to be able to love him and be loved by him.
And I would never, ever puke on his shoes.