Chapter Fourteen Lily
Chapter Fourteen
Lily
“Larry, I beg of you. We’re a hundred feet from home. You can make it.”
He sat down on the asphalt and stared up at me, unmoving even when I gave his leash a gentle tug.
“Dude, it was one block. Don’t you remember that really nice vet in Phoenix? He said that walks would do wonders for you.”
He licked the tip of his nose, giving me a stubborn look. Then he shivered, and I let out a deep sigh.
“Fine.” I leaned over to pick him up, and once he was tucked under my arm, he let out a disgruntled groan. I gave him a look. “I put dog mittens on your paws even though there’s no snow on the road. Your coat cost more than mine. I’m not sure your complaints have a leg to stand on here, buddy.”
The look he gave me was as close to a doggy eye roll that I’d ever seen, and my lips tugged in an unwitting smile.
“Come on. Let’s get the mail, and I’ll bring you back in, where you can turn back into a couch slug for the rest of the day. And yes, I’ll put on the diaper before you start bitching to me about having to pee in the snow.”
The walk in question wouldn’t have taken very long, but, like it always did, Larry’s little gremlin face had neighbors crossing the street to say hello. The dog stared at each and every one of them like they’d done him personal injury.
Did that deter them?
Not in the slightest.
“Oh, isn’t he cute? What’s his name?”
My head snapped up because I’d been thinking about too-friendly neighbors and their obsession with the dog, but unfortunately, this voice had come from outside the confines of my head.
A taller-than-average woman with short curls in a light-silver color was standing at the end of Barrett’s driveway.
I blinked, then glanced down at the dog.
Not fucking again, I could hear him say. I shifted his slight weight in my arms. “Larry,” I told her. “Unfortunately, his personality doesn’t match his looks. One can only be so blessed, you know? If he had both, it would be unfair to dogs all around the world.”
She laughed, folding her arms tight around her middle and walking toward me. Internally, I let out a heaving, massive groan, and it probably sounded a lot like Larry’s.
Two peas in a pod, we were.
But instead of asking about the dog, she was studying me. “If that’s Larry, then you must be Lily.”
“Oh God,” I groaned. “I’m scared to ask how you know that.”
She laughed under her breath, and for a split second, I thought I saw something familiar in her face. “My grandchildren have done nothing but talk about you for the last two weeks.”
I let out a big puff of air. “Ah. Maggie has been texting me updates of the things you’ve been doing over break. You’re Barrett’s mom.”
“You can call me Robin. And yes, most days, I’ll claim him,” she said, eyes sparkling with humor. Not like her son in that way, then. “From what I hear, I owe you a thank-you on multiple levels.”
“For what?”
My short response didn’t deter her in the slightest—but then again, if she’d birthed Barrett King, she was used to less-than-stellar people skills.
“Well, my husband would thank you for the best cookies he’s ever eaten.
” I exhaled a short laugh, briefly looking down to the asphalt because my cheeks were probably pink as shit.
She wasn’t done, though. “For helping with my grandkids and taking such good care of them.” She tilted her head back toward the house.
“Maggie, in particular. She has a tendency to get into trouble when the wrong person is in charge.”
“You know, Barrett said that, but I thought he was exaggerating because he was so pissed at me.”
Her smile was huge. “No, he was telling the truth. Did he tell you about the time she forged paperwork so she and Bryce could fly to Colorado to visit their uncle?”
My head reared back. “She did not.”
“Oh yes,” Robin sighed. “Barrett came home from work and found a note. They’d already landed and found their way to his brother’s house. She’s skilled in many, many ways.”
“Little troublemaker. No wonder I like her.”
She was delighted by this answer, but the way she studied my face was disconcerting at best.
I moved Larry from one arm to the other, and he let out a low growl, which I ignored. Robin looked concerned, taking a step back. “Oh, he won’t bite,” I told her. “Literally can’t bite. He only has half his teeth left, and I’m not sure he could muster the energy to move that quickly.”
She smiled again, and I realized what looked familiar. It was the same smile as the kids’. Maybe their dad had it, too, I’d just never actually seen it.
“And you’re welcome,” I told her. “For the cookies and watching the kids. It was no trouble, really.”
Effusive praise for both of the children threatened, but I swallowed it down because she probably already thought I was weird.
There was a slight pause, and I could only imagine that she wanted to get back inside; she was wearing a sweatshirt, whereas I had my puffy black coat, gloves, and winter hat on. Actual waterproof winter boots.
Why I’d bought them was a mystery I did not want to delve into, but they were just there on the shelves when I went shopping the day before, and I thought about Bryce’s little face when he’d been so concerned about my feet getting wet, and they’d hopped their ass right into my cart.
“It was nice to meet you,” I told her. “Tell the kids I said hi.”
Her face fell. “Oh, you’re leaving already?”
My brow furrowed. “Did you want to stand outside in the freezing cold much longer?”
Robin laughed. Like it wasn’t a serious question. “I don’t mind the cold. We might live in Arizona now, but our whole lives we were in Michigan. That’s where the boys grew up. Got the same lake-effect snow in the winter that they do here, so not much about hard winters faze us.”
I leaned closer. “Everyone keeps saying that, and I genuinely don’t understand the difference.”
Her eyes gleamed. She found me funny, and I couldn’t figure out why. “You’ve been here a couple weeks, right?”
I nodded.
“The Great Lakes are amazing, Lily. Absolutely nothing like them in the summer. But in the winter, they can be merciless too. All of a sudden, you get these great big fluffy flakes, flurries that seem to come out of nowhere. Or a storm front that you hardly get one day’s notice, and all of a sudden a foot or two of snow gets dropped right past the lakeshore. ”
I wrinkled my nose. “Ew.”
“It’s an acquired taste,” she said as she smiled. “We love it in Scottsdale, but I do miss winter.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s beautiful.” She shrugged, looking around.
There was still snow on the ground, but with a few days of above-freezing temps, a lot had melted too.
“I’ve always thought it was a little bit magical to sit and watch it snow.
Everything slows down. You have the perfect excuse to cuddle under blankets and watch movies and play games.
Not go anywhere. Not rush from place to place.
Just . . . enjoy that magic for a few days. ”
To my horror, my eyes felt gritty and my nose burned. I coughed, looking down at Larry while I blinked rapidly.
“You okay, honey?”
I glanced up, not really able to make eye contact. “Fine. Yeah, I’m . . . I’m fine. I think I got something in my eye, is all.”
“Lily!” Maggie came running down the driveway, and she was also not wearing a coat.
“Where is your coat?” I asked her.
“It’s not even that cold out.” She scratched the top of Larry’s head and smiled when he sniffed her fingers. “I think he missed me.”
“Undoubtedly,” I murmured. “He’s sick of me, that’s for sure.”
Maggie laughed. “You met my grandma?”
Robin wrapped an arm around her granddaughter. “We were just getting to know each other a little bit. I can see why everyone likes her so much.”
Robin must have low standards for conversations with strangers. Instead of telling her that, I nudged Maggie’s arm. “You use your mixer again?”
“A little,” she said. “We made some muffins the other day; I forgot to send you pictures. And I tried cookies yesterday, but they were really crumbly.”
“Ah. You probably added too much flour.”
Robin clucked her tongue. “I told you that might be the problem. I was never the baker, unfortunately. I can make a mean casserole, and I love my Crock-Pot, but I’ve never quite mastered cookies. It’s too precise.”
“Can you come over tomorrow and help me?” Maggie asked.
“I could, yeah.”
She grinned. “You’re not too busy? I, um, I saw you come and go a lot the last few days.”
Robin gave me a soft smile.
“I was playing tourist,” I told her. “I was feeling a bit cooped up in the house, so I decided to see a few of the sights.”
“We’ve seen a bunch of cool stuff. Mostly in the summer, though. Dad’s not at work quite as long during the spring and summer, so we actually see him more then.” She smiled. “Do you want to come after lunch? You can tell me about everything you saw while we’re baking.”
Robin gave her granddaughter a look. “Your dad—”
“Won’t care if Lily is coming over,” Maggie finished. She turned and gave her grandma a guileless look. “He invited her over on Christmas Eve, didn’t he? Tomorrow’s just a random weekday. Why would it bother him?”
I pushed my tongue against the inside of my cheek and decided now wasn’t the appropriate time to list the multitude of reasons why he wouldn’t want me there.
Robin stared at Maggie for another second and then sighed. “I suppose you’re right. He’ll be just fine with it.”
I smiled. “Great. After lunch, then?”
Maggie nodded. “What kind of cookies do you want to make?”
“How about I surprise you?”
Her face lit up. “Okay.”
“I’ll go to the store in the morning and get everything we need. Do you want to learn baking more or how to decorate?”
“Mmm, how about baking right now? Maybe we could do decorating next time?”
Next time. I had a feeling this girl would keep me busy until the day I was scheduled to leave.
Robin must have seen something in my face. “We can talk about that tomorrow, Maggie Moo.”
A big black truck came down the street, slowing as it reached their house. My stomach flipped around when the window opened and Barrett’s face appeared. His eyes weren’t even on me, and just the sight of him felt like someone laid a big, warm hand on my throat and squeezed. Just a little.
A good kind of throat squeeze. The kind that came with kisses and naked bodies and multiple orgasms. I slicked my tongue over my teeth and prayed to every deity in existence that my face wasn’t flaming red.
“Where’s your coat, Maggie?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes. “That’s what Lily said too.”
I didn’t look up at first, studiously fixated on the tuft of hair on the top of Larry’s head. He really needed a good brushing or something. Finally, I raised my eyes, and he was watching me, face expressionless.
Maybe mine was too.
Yes, avoidance was best. Avoidance was great. Who needed to act like things were different? Just because he’d done the arm thing and I’d tried to goad him into kissing me, and then I’d told him about one of my tattoos. There was no need to pretend like any of that existed.
It didn’t feel like my face was expressionless, though. My cheeks were warm—tellingly warm, a spotlight on all my biggest vulnerabilities. What did he see now, when he looked at me? Did I give too much away?
There was the slightest flicker in his eyes, but it disappeared just as quickly. Barrett pulled his gaze from mine, and I felt a tear in my chest when he did.
“I got pizza for dinner,” Barrett said. “If you don’t want it to be cold, you better come inside.”
Maggie turned to me. “Do you want some pizza?”
“Maggie, we should—” Barrett said.
“Oh, I don’t—” I said at the same time.
My eyes locked on his again. What was he going to say?
“Not tonight,” I continued, softening my answer with a smile. “But thank you for inviting me.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Okay.”
Barrett’s jaw twitched, and, shifting his face forward again, he rolled up the window, pulling his truck into the driveway without another word. The man from Christmas Eve was seemingly gone, the wall put firmly back in place.
“You’ll still come tomorrow, though, right?” Maggie asked.
I winked. “It’s a date.”
Her relieved smile wiggled its way under my ribs, and instead of trying to ignore it, I decided that maybe, for today, it was okay to let it stay there.
Robin and Maggie waved goodbye, then followed Barrett, and it took me a moment before I turned and walked back to my own place.
The entire family—right up to the grandparents—seemed as if they’d been sent into my life just to unnerve me. To unseat me from the place I’d always felt safest: being alone.