chapter 15 #2
her to be a wonderful person and being around her again reminded him of the wholesomeness he’d found so appealing back then.
Had things gone differently, he believed they might have started dating. While they were growing up, Sloane hadn’t wanted
him to get romantically involved with any of her friends, and he could understand why. She was afraid something would go wrong,
and she’d be forced to choose between them. He’d felt the same about her dating his friends. During their sophomore and junior years, Charlotte had already had a boyfriend, anyway, so it was a moot point.
And by the time she broke up with him, they were in their senior year, and he’d had a girlfriend.
The timing was never right, but he’d often thought that maybe one day .
. . Then they’d graduated and life had pulled them in different directions, only to bring them back together again at this juncture—when he felt he couldn’t even show any interest. She was still in love with Cliff.
He didn’t want to get involved with anyone who was on the rebound, couldn’t risk the damage that could cause in his own life, not when he was already dealing with so much.
Even if her heart was open and free, Julian didn’t feel he had enough to offer her, not with his recent diagnosis.
He didn’t want to put her in a position where she felt she couldn’t say no—or saddle her with someone who could easily become a burden.
He hated the thought of her getting into a relationship with him only because she pitied him or felt a sense of obligation arising out of their long friendship.
The girls were talking about the linen clothes they’d purchased at one of the little boutiques they’d passed on the narrow,
crooked streets of Positano. While Charlotte and Sloane were shopping, Lilly had hung back with him near the entrance. She
didn’t have any money. But Charlotte had eventually prevailed upon her to try on a white linen sundress, and it’d looked so
good she’d insisted on buying it for her.
Julian would never forget the look on Lilly’s face when she took hold of that sack and left the store. She’d been trying not
to smile, and yet he could tell she really liked the dress and felt accepted and included, since Charlotte and Sloane had
each gotten something, too.
Lilly seemed to be warming up to her half sister. At least, there were moments when it felt that way. At various points during
the day, she’d let down her guard enough to give them a glimpse of the person she was when she wasn’t being so defensive—a
very likeable, bright and pretty young woman, but also one who’d been abandoned and was now alone in the world and terrified
to trust.
In an odd way, Julian could identify with her.
He was protecting himself, too, couldn’t let anyone, even his sister, know about his Parkinson’s, because once the word got out there’d be no taking it back.
She wouldn’t even see why he’d felt the need to hide it.
But he didn’t want others to value him any less than they did now, while he was seemingly as healthy as could be.
“The dress you got looks so good on you,” Sloane was telling Lilly.
“Thanks,” Lilly said. “I’ve never had anything so nice. I’m not sure where I’ll wear it.”
“The design is such a simple one,” Sloane told her. “You could wear it anywhere.”
“Sloane would know,” Charlotte agreed. “As an interior designer, she has excellent taste.”
“You decorate houses for a living?” Lilly said.
“I do,” Sloane told her. “I opened my own business with a partner in Seattle not too long ago. It’s called A Personal Touch.”
Lilly seemed emboldened by the conversation. She certainly hadn’t asked anything about Sloane before. “So you don’t live close
to Charlotte?”
“No. We both lived in the LA area while we were growing up, but when I married my husband, I moved with him to Seattle because
he had a good job offer there, and we had a lot of student debt to pay off,” she added with a laugh.
Charlotte’s phone went off. She twisted around and, being careful not to drip water on the device, checked to see who was
calling her. Then she silenced her ringer and put the phone down again.
“Was that your folks?” Sloane guessed as Charlotte settled back in the water.
Charlotte nodded.
“You’re not going to take it?”
Julian could hear the worry in his sister’s voice.
Charlotte’s response was subdued. “I’ll call them back later—or maybe tomorrow.”
Julian noted Sloane’s expression when she glanced over at him. She was concerned. Charlotte had always had such a good relationship with her parents; neither one of them wanted to see that put in jeopardy.
But Charlotte didn’t allow any more conversation on the subject. Reaching back, she grabbed her phone again. “Here, let’s
take a picture of the four of us,” she said. “Julian, will you get in?”
“I’ll be the one to take it,” he offered.
“Are you sure?” she said. “I’d rather have you in it.”
He was wearing his swim trunks, so it wasn’t any bother. He pulled off his T-shirt, tossed it aside and climbed in to pose
with them.
Initially, he sat next to his sister. In his mind, it was better to avoid getting too close to Charlotte. But Charlotte had
him come over next to her. His arm was the longest, so he’d get the best angle—and she wanted the moon over the water in the
frame.
As they moved closer together so they could all fit inside the frame, he felt the side of her breast against his arm. It was
only incidental contact—she probably didn’t even notice—and yet the sexual awareness that suddenly flowed through him made
him wonder if coming to Italy was going to be the best thing for him, after all. Maybe it would just make him yearn for something
he couldn’t have.
Lilly fingered the crisp fabric of her new dress, which was draped across the bed next to her. She loved it. When she was
wearing it, she felt pretty—more like her older sister, who’d been so nice to her today. Would that last, she wondered—the
niceness? Was it real and permanent or just a passing polite phase while Charlotte was in a good mood and having fun on vacation?
Because the hope rising up inside her scared her. She didn’t want to start expecting something good, couldn’t take the disappointment she’d face when Charlotte put her wherever she was going to put her once she was done sightseeing in Italy.
With a sigh, Lilly got up and hung her dress carefully in the wardrobe that served as a closet at the villa. Luca would be
bringing Sabrina’s clothes, jewelry, papers and other things tomorrow. She’d been worrying about that all day. She was afraid
there were items in those boxes she didn’t want Charlotte to see—items that might make her mother look bad. She didn’t want
her mother to embarrass her yet again.
There could even be stuff of hers Sabrina had kept, stuff she’d rather Charlotte not see. She’d been so upset about her mother’s
death—so shocked by it—that she hadn’t paid any attention to what was left. At the time, it didn’t seem to matter. Sabrina
had never owned anything valuable, so there was nothing to help Lilly moneywise. And no keepsake was going to bring her mother
back. Lilly hadn’t wanted some picture or perfume bottle sitting on her dresser to remind her of Sabrina. Why would she want
anything to remind her of her mother storming out of the house without so much as a goodbye—and then veering in front of a
bus? The very thought of Sabrina doing what she always did—throwing a fit and yelling and screaming and acting like a child
so that she couldn’t drive right—made Lilly so angry it brought tears to her eyes.
But now she wished she’d packed those boxes herself like Luca had asked her to, because she didn’t know exactly what was there.
Had her mother kept her report cards?
Probably not. Sabrina had never been one to hang on to much.
They’d moved around; having a lot they had to carry with them only made life harder.
But Lilly was still a little apprehensive.
She didn’t want Charlotte to know she hadn’t been a good student.
She’d let school go, had been too busy trying to keep her mother happy so their lives wouldn’t turn to crap again.
Not that it had ever worked. No matter how hard Lilly had tried to solve their problems—no matter what she gave up or missed
in her own life so she could be there for her mother—the same cycle continued.
Still, she’d kept trying, hoping the next time would be different, and now her past could make her unacceptable to the only
person who might be willing to help with her future. What if Charlotte thought she was one of those kids who wouldn’t pay
attention or do homework? No one wanted a kid like that, especially an adult with a choice, and Charlotte definitely had a
choice.
There was always foster care. Lilly shuddered at the idea of living with strangers who had absolutely no reason to care about
her beyond the money they’d receive. She wished she had a cell phone. Her mother had refused to buy her one, said she wasn’t
old enough, they were too expensive and she didn’t want Lilly to start “running around” or spending hours and hours on social
media. But now she had no way to contact Luca—not without asking Charlotte—to see if he’d make sure there wasn’t anything
of hers in the boxes he was about to bring over.
She doubted he’d go to the trouble of searching them even if she asked, though.
He’d think she was worried about nothing, wouldn’t believe it mattered.
He seemed to take everything with a shrug and a smile.
At first, Lilly had loved that about him.
Her mother had called him “easygoing.” But easygoing also meant he wouldn’t stick around when times got tough, and he’d proved that.
As soon as her mother grew difficult, he’d wanted them to move out—go back to America—just like that.
At least Steve, the farmer, had tried to convince her mother to go to counseling.
He’d said she owed it to Lilly—even offered to go with her.
Thinking of Steve reminded her of Old Blue. She missed that dog even more than her mother. He’d made her feel she mattered
in the world. They’d needed each other—but no one seemed to care.
She wished she could call Steve. It would be good just to hear his voice. He never really said much, but he was steady and
kind. She liked just being in the same room with him and still couldn’t believe her mother had managed to mess up that situation.
Steve was the best man her mother had ever dated. Even Sabrina had eventually admitted that.
A soft knock sounded on her door. Surprised since it was so late, she froze. Was she going to get in trouble? She was supposed
to be in bed, but she’d been too wound up to sleep.
The knock came again, so Lilly walked over to the door. “Yes?” she said softly without opening it.
“It’s Charlotte. I saw the light under the door and was worried about you. Are you okay?”
Lilly straightened. She hadn’t been okay for a long time, even before her mother died. But she didn’t know how to express
what was going on inside her—didn’t feel she’d ever been heard or understood—so she went with the answer she felt was expected.
“Yes. I was just about to turn off the light,” she said even though the rest of her wanted to scream and rant and cry for
no particular reason.
“Okay. If you need to talk or just be with someone, I’ll be sitting out on the deck for a few minutes. Feel free to come out
and join me.”
Was Charlotte having trouble sleeping, too? If so, why? Was she trying to decide what to do with Lilly?
Her half sister seemed nice. But Luca had been nice, too, especially at first. That didn’t mean there was anything to it.
It wasn’t as if he wanted to raise her. And Lilly knew that if her mother had ever been put in Charlotte’s shoes, she wouldn’t feel she should have to take on someone else’s child—not for more than a weekend.
She’d made a big deal about “getting fixed” so she wouldn’t have any more kids and had always talked about how difficult it was to raise one, as if Lilly had been such a burden.
If her own mother hadn’t really wanted to take care of her, what were the chances someone else would?
“Thanks, but I’m okay.” She assumed she’d have a better chance of staying on Charlotte’s good side if she pretended not to
need anything. That was what had always worked best with her mother. She couldn’t be a bother or she’d be left behind like
all the men her mother had been with in the past. “Good night.”
“Good night,” Charlotte echoed, and her footsteps moved away from the door.