Chapter 41 Lincoln
LINCOLN
@theanswerisno:
I don’t know how to comfort my best friend who is currently going through some trouble
@pancakesareelite:
Ask her what she needs
@theanswerisno:
That actually makes sense.
I could cook. But William? Man, William was a magician. I’ve told him. We’ve all told him. I grabbed ingredients he needed from the cabinets and from the bags of things they’d brought along with them.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said, giving him a block of Parmesan.
He offered me one of those smiles that had all the women weak in the knees. “Yeah, it’s really convincing when you tell me that when I’m nearly done.”
I chuckled. If they’d asked me if they should come all the way here, I’d have told them it wasn’t worth the drive, but I’d bet that was why they didn’t ask me.
This friendship thing was weird but nice.
The same couldn’t be said for my oldest friend, who seemed to be experiencing some negative side effects of our friendship. I walked up to Claire, who was seated in the living room where Rose had set up Dixit and Pictionary.
“Hey.” I sat next to her. “I’m okay.”
She looked at me with what had become a permanent frown. “I know how hurt you are and how difficult this must be. You don’t seem angry.”
“I’m not. I’m confused and shocked and scared,” I said. “Why are you so angry?”
Claire took a deep breath. “Because I worry about you. I know you take forever to trust someone, and when you do, you give them everything. Does she know that’s what she’s getting? If she’s not ready, I… I don’t know, Lincoln.”
Did Elizabeth want everything? Would my everything be enough for someone like her? Or too much? She’s Elizabeth Gordon-Bettencourt, and I’m just Lincoln Carden.
Dean walked in carrying a pile of wood and made his way straight to the fireplace. Claire’s frown turned into an emotion I’d rather not see.
William walked up to us, a bowl in either hand. “Buon appetito.” He offered the first bowls to Rose and Claire.
Elizabeth hasn’t eaten.
As if reading my mind, William leaned in and whispered, “I made some extra. In case she’s hungry. I know she lied and stuff, but… I don’t like it when people are hungry.”
“Me neither,” I said.
I walked to the kitchen and prepared another bowl of spaghetti bolognese. I took the two short steps to Elizabeth’s bedroom door and knocked once.
There was a quiet sound of shuffling before the door cracked open. It was as though I was meeting an entirely different person. A red-faced, red-eyed, red-cheeked woman whispered, “What’s up? Everything okay?”
I extended the bowl, which couldn’t even fit through the tiny gap she’d allowed. I wanted to ask her what was wrong. I wanted to know what she needed to feel better. To not cry. But I didn’t know how to find the right words and the right way to say it.
She swallowed and reached out a shaky hand. “For me?”
I nodded.
“Thank you,” she squeaked.
“William makes the best spagbol,” I said, stupidly, as a replacement for what could very easily be a love confession.
Half a smile graced her puffy face.
I searched her eyes, but she avoided mine. In a desperate attempt to make her feel better, I said, “We’re about to play Dixit… Do you want to join us?”
“I don’t want to intrude.” She swallowed hard. “Plus I look like crap.”
Crap? I wish I could tell her otherwise. Instead, I gestured down to my sweatpants. “This is a no judgment zone. Plus, uh, it takes up to eight players…”
“You don’t mind? Are you sure?”
I nodded, and she finally met my gaze. Her gray eyes sparkled silver under the light.
“Can you give me a minute to, um”—she blinked a few times, clearing the storm—“freshen up?”
I nodded again, and she smiled, a small smile, but it was a smile. I pulled the door closed and made my way over to Claire, who was not going to believe what I’d done.
“So… heads-up,” I whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear but not loud enough for the sound to reach Elizabeth, “I invited her to join us.”
“Interesting.” Claire’s dark brows popped up. “Why?”
I shrugged. “I wanted to.”
“Lincoln,” she said softly. Her concern was obvious, and without it, I’d have gotten into a lot more trouble growing up. “If you’re okay with it, I am.”
“It’s just a game, and you’re all here. What’s the harm?”
Rose clapped her hands together. “I think it’s an excellent idea. Especially after that article by her dad. Did you see it?”
“What article?”
Elizabeth walked into the living room still wearing the same pajama shirt but exchanged her shorts for a pair of sweatpants. I didn’t realize sweatpants could look that good. She sat on the floor across from me and lifted her bowl. “This spaghetti is the best I’ve ever had.”
“You should taste his stir-fry.” Rose rolled her eyes back. “Because of him, I’m insatiable.” Her eyes zapped open. “I’m talking about his food, obviously.”
“Is that what we’re calling it nowadays?” Dean teased, and to my absolute relief, we all burst out laughing. Including Elizabeth.
William smiled mischievously. “She wasn’t only talking about my food.” Rose pinched him, and he yelped. “Don’t wound me now, woman. We have an important date coming up.”
“What date?” Claire asked.
“Comic-Con!” Rose shrieked, looking at William with all the love she could muster. “Thunderstruck and Fun&Games have booths, and William and I will be competing to see whose booth gets more customers, so you have to come.”
“I’ve never been to Comic-Con,” Dean said, and I sometimes forgot he wasn’t raised a geek like the rest of us. “I’m game. Let me know when it is so I can schedule some time off.”
“It’s months away, but we get comps, so you’re all on the list. We’re telling you now so no excuses. Put it in your calendars!” Rose was practically vibrating with excitement. She then did what only she would do and asked, “Elizabeth, would you like me to put you on the list?”
And just like that, Elizabeth was here to stay.