Chapter 20
Present Day
I hate that I change my outfit three times before Lincoln Kelly comes over for coffee later that week. It’s the opposite of
the nonchalant, unbothered look I’m trying for. In front of the mirror, I decide I look casual but put-together in jeans and
a flowy pink blouse.
I’m not sure any combination of clothing will feel right for this strange reunion.
Honestly, I never planned to see Lincoln again after that night he announced he was leaving for New York. Even if I couldn’t
forget about him and that summer we spent together.
As I pad down the stairs, Hallie whips around the corner.
“I see Foster coming up the driveway!” she screeches. One might guess from her enthusiasm that they haven’t seen each other
in weeks, when in reality, they just spent a full day together at school.
The two of them have played together every day after school since Foster joined her class, and they’ve already developed a
whole mythical world that resides in the grassy area between our homes.
I cross over to the door that Hallie’s pulled open and lean on the frame, channeling nonchalant . My stomach clenches. When Lincoln’s face comes into view, it’s as if the clock turns back a decade, and we’re in that little apartment, him ardently promising me I could never understand.
Lincoln strides up and pauses awkwardly on the doorstep. “Thanks again for doing this.”
I turn and wave them inside but not before I catch sight of him wiping sweaty palms on his shorts. It’s a little bit of reassurance
that this isn’t easy for him either. “No worries,” I say. “I figure with the friendship-on-fire situation between our kids,
it’s probably for the best anyway.”
Hallie steps in front of me and knits her brow. “Foster and I are not on fire.”
“You’re right,” I say to her. “Do you want to offer the cookies you picked out after school?”
Hallie darts to the pantry, Foster tagging behind, and after a minute they reappear, each with a cookie hanging from their
mouth.
“Can we play outside?” Hallie asks through a mouthful of cookie.
“Hallie, what I meant was for you to offer the cookies to our guests first, maybe with a plate or something.” I turn to look
at Lincoln and throw my hands up. “But what do I know? Yes, you two have at it.”
Hallie and Foster sprint out the back door.
I turn to Lincoln. “Can I offer you a cookie?” I grab the box from the pantry. “They’re actually supergood. There’s a cute little spot ten minutes
down the road.”
He smiles and takes one. “Thanks. And I don’t need a plate—if you’re ok with it.”
I perch on a barstool. “I am very laid-back on formalities, thanks to being choked with them for the beginning of my life.”
Lincoln grins. “Magnolia would faint, I’m sure, at the sight of the kids charging off with food hanging out of their mouths.”
“Fortunately for Hallie, she’s the apple of Magnolia’s eye. Quite unlike her mother.”
We chew quietly, sitting side by side in my kitchen, and the moment prickles. Lincoln has grown up; he’s different than he
was before, but he still knows those parts of me. He knows the scars of my past, and now he’s seeing how they’ve played out
down the road.
“I’m sorry,” Lincoln says. “I shouldn’t have said—”
“No, it’s fine,” I say.
“It’s weird,” he says. “I’m not sure if I’m supposed to pretend like you’re a stranger when...”
He doesn’t finish the sentence, but I wish he would. Who am I now, if not a stranger to him? I’m still grappling to answer
the same about him for myself. Because back then, when he told me I wouldn’t understand and when he told me he wasn’t picking
me and when he told me it was just supposed to be the summer, he knew every bit of me.
That summer got away from us, and I accidentally got lost in him.
Still, his words are tender, like he doesn’t want to hurt me again.
I want out of this memory chamber, so I say, “We were kids back then. We did our best.”
He nods, like it’s enough acknowledgment to stay in the present. “And to think, what are the chances of us ending up as neighbors?”
“It’s absurd.” I laugh. “Coffee?”
He shakes his head. “Still can’t have caffeine past noon or I’ll be up until the wee hours.”
“Oh, that’s right,” I say. “Well, there’s sparkling water and sodas in the fridge.”
Lincoln takes a water from the fridge and settles back on the barstool.
“So how come you guys moved back anyway?” I ask.
I did follow his career, at least what was shared online in articles and exhibit announcements, and he was right: It had been
his chance to make a life out of the thing he loved most.
“It’s home here,” he says. “It was hard to raise a kid on my own in the city, and I do great work here.”
I try to fight the memories of him snapping film of me wrapped in his sheets. “Curls like a crown for my queen,” he’d said. Me on the beach. I never liked pictures of myself until Lincoln Kelly took one.
“I get that,” I say. “Well, you’ve found yourself a great school and a great neighborhood.” I cross over to my basket of paperwork
and grab the packet Becca gave me. “This is the new parent packet. Should we start?”
It feels like a relief to have the small talk over and done with and to move on into the neutral territory of school checklists
and volunteer opportunities. But still, as I go over the parent portal and directions on logging in for the first time, I
can’t help that I’m itching to ask him other things. How different are you now? Where’s Foster’s mother? Did you love her? And when I get to the PTA meeting schedule, all the things I want to tell him keep popping up. I’m really doing it with my own design firm. Magnolia’s still a bear. I really did get what you meant back then.
Once I’m through the packet, I give it an efficient pat and slide it over in front of him. “Any questions?”
Lincoln laughs. “Well, I guess that depends on what I’m allowed to ask.”
I flush red and feel my cheeks and chest burn. “I think it’ll take time to get used to this.”
I tried for so long to hate Lincoln because he didn’t choose me, but it never stuck. Sure, for moments at a time I could harness my inner Magnolia gene and detest his guts, but inevitably the good memories swam to the surface. When I gave up on hating him, I tried to forget him, but he visited me in my dreams and songs on the radio.
I don’t think I’ll ever be at peace with this man in front of me, but I also don’t think I’d have become the same woman if
I’d never met him.
“I agree,” he says. “But I’ll get out of your hair. I’m trying out a new meatloaf recipe tonight.” He stands. “Let’s hope
it’s not a disaster.”
I follow him to the door. “There’s always PB&J to fall back on.”
When I open the door, the chatter and giggling between the kids floats over.
“Foster’s welcome to stay and play as long as he wants,” I say.
“Thanks.” Lincoln steps out. “I might need it, considering it’s my first try with meatloaf.”
We wave goodbye, and Lincoln calls over to Foster to let him know he’ll be at their house. I stand in the doorway and watch
him go.
When my heart picks up and I feel the flutter in my belly, I remind myself, He’s just a neighbor. In my mother’s voice I tell myself, Don’t be a floozy who makes the same mistake twice.