Chapter 33
thirty-three
Georgia
Stifling a yawn, I hop out of bed and peer through the window that overlooks the front of the house, and surprise jolts me at the sight of Maisy’s car in the driveway.
I’m rushing down the stairs before I’ve thought to consider what I’m wearing.
But Maisy won’t mind my rumpled sweatpants and tangled hair—we were roommates once.
On the other side of the door, Maisy looks as sheepish as I feel. Or maybe it’s something else I can’t place. “Hey, Georgia.”
“Hi.” I fight off the little smile trying to form on my lips.
“Hope it’s okay I came by unannounced. I was going to text first, but I wasn’t sure you’d—”
“I would. I’ve been wanting to see you.”
She cuts her eyes away as silence blooms between us, then glances down at the gift bag in her hands like she just remembered it. “I brought you something.” She hands me the bag. “I’m a day late, but happy birthday.”
“You got me a birthday gift?”
“Of course. Wanted to make sure you’re celebrated properly.”
“Thank you.” I clear my throat, resenting the bubble of emotion threatening to surface.
“Do you want to come in?”
“I’m not interrupting anything?”
I step back, holding the door wide open.
“Holy shit, Georgia, this is gorgeous,” she exclaims as I lead her into the kitchen.
“Thanks. I’m happy with how it’s turned out. Couldn’t have pulled it off without Cash’s help.” For a brief instant, I regret saying his name but quickly change my mind. I’m allowed to talk about my boyfriend.
After a beat, she says, “I’m glad it worked out.”
In the kitchen, I pour us each a glass of water and invite her to sit, but we both end up standing at the island. Maisy looks at me for a long moment. Does she expect me to start? Apologize? I won’t. Not yet, anyway. Clenching my jaw, I endure the silence.
She finally cracks and asks, “So how do you like living alone?”
I stop to think about it. “It’s…what I’m used to. I don’t mind.”
“You’re good like that.”
It occurs to me she also lives alone now. “How are you liking it?”
“Honestly? I hate it.” The silence of the big old house surrounds us before she sighs.
“I need to say something. A lot of things, actually.” Her lips pinch, and she scans the room before settling on me again.
“Listen, I’m atrocious at apologies. I know the way I reacted to you and Cash wasn’t fair, and I’m sorry.
Honestly, I still have feelings about it.
” She twists the gold ring on her pinky finger.
“But that’s not your problem. What I really want you to know is how happy my brother has been since you came into his life—and that’s saying something for a kid who was born happy.
The way you care about him makes me realize what happened between you and me doesn’t really matter. So thank you for loving him like that.”
“You don’t have to thank me. Loving him is easy.”
She smiles. “It is.”
“I guess that’s why I ended up keeping it a secret.
I never expected to fall in love this semester—definitely not with Cash, and definitely not so quickly.
I fought those feelings even when I knew they were real, and I kept thinking if I fought hard enough, they’d go away.
” I meet her eye. “It’s not an excuse for being dishonest, just an explanation I hope you can understand.
I’m sorry. I should have told you from the beginning. ”
“Maybe. Not sure it would have helped, to tell you the truth. The whole thing about Cash and my friends is a sore spot I’ve needed to work on for a long time.”
“Guess I’ve gone and forced your hand on that one,” I say, trying for some humor.
“Yeah.” She laughs awkwardly. “For the best, though. Cash was always kind of a player, but his heart was never in it. He always wanted something real, and now he finally has it.”
I give her the smile that’s been waiting. “Thanks, Maisy.”
“So open your gift.” She motions to the bag sitting on the counter in front of me.
Pulling out the blue tissue paper on top, I find a vinyl record in a cardboard sleeve printed with a beautiful blue winter scene: Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 1 recorded by the Boston Symphony Orchestra. “Tchaikovsky!”
“I liked the album art.”
I chuckle. “Great choice.”
Next, I unearth a box of apple-cinnamon tea from my usual tea house, a glass capsule of shiny brown vanilla bean pods, and then, at the bottom of the bag, a shimmery purple nail polish tied with a white ribbon to a lipstick in a sleek gold case.
Curiosity gives way to a memory of sitting at the Hartnell family’s kitchen table and being asked about my birthday traditions.
“You said all you usually do is treat yourself to a new nail polish or lipstick. At the very least, you should have both,” she offers.
My chest flushes with warmth. “Maisy—”
“Wait, one more thing. Check the bottom of the bag.”
Fishing inside, I find something light and delicate wrapped in blue tissue.
I carefully tear the paper and find myself looking down at a pair of beaded bracelets, clearly handmade.
Pink and purple beads frame the white alphabet beads in the center, each bracelet spelling out a message: FRIENDS and FOREVER.
Everything stills inside me as familiarity works to dislodge a long-buried memory.
I’ve seen these bracelets before. Long ago, that hot coral pink and royal purple were my favorite colors out of the rainbow of beads that sat sorted into neat compartments on the craft table at sleepaway camp.
It was from across said table that I watched a much younger version of Maisy string those beads onto a stretchy cord with her small fingers and then, finally, present the finished bracelets to me with a smile not unlike the one she’s wearing right now.
“You forgot them when you left camp. I packed them up on the last day, thinking I’d get them to you somehow, and then I forgot about them until I unearthed a shoebox of camp letters and mementos the last time I was home.”
Choked up, I move past the island to throw my arms around her. “Thank you,” I say shakily.
Her hug is tentative for an instant before she squeezes me tight and pats my back. “I told you I’m bad at apologies. I was hoping the bracelets would say what I failed to.”
I laugh, pulling back. “I don’t know where you two get it, but you might have your brother beat for best gift-giver I’ve ever known.”
When I walk her to the door a few minutes later, she’s smiling like I haven’t seen since before Cash broke the news to her.
“Maybe we can get coffee on campus this week,” I offer at the door.
She hesitates, something clouding her eyes. “That’d be good. Maybe Friday morning.”
Tears burn the back of my eyes as I watch her walk down the driveway, and a fierce sense of longing overwhelms me.
I must be due for my period. I sniff back the tears before they can fall and step out the front door.
“Maisy!” I call, and when she turns around, I hold up a finger.
“Wait one minute. I have something for you.”
I dash back to the kitchen and grab an almond croissant from the batch I made earlier, wrap it in a paper towel, and rush out to the driveway. “This was my test bake for the reunion. You’re the only one I can trust to be brutally honest.”
Maisy makes a big show of acting annoyed, but her eyes glint with humor as she unwraps the croissant.
“If there’s one thing I don’t miss about you, Georgia, it’s the homemade breakfasts and yummy smells filling our house every morning.
Life’s so much better eating cold cereal and microwaved oatmeal. ”
“Can I confess something?”
“Now’s the time, considering this is the best croissant I’ve ever had, and it’s hard to be mad at anyone who can work this kind of magic in the kitchen.”
“I actually don’t like living alone so much. Not compared to living with you.”
Maisy swallows and licks a crumb off her lip, studying me.
“Too much? It probably sounds like I’m begging to move back in—”
“No,” she says. “Not too much. I just thought you’d be happier alone.”
“So did I. Anyway. If you ever want more snacks, you know where to find me.”
She nods, her lips twisting into a knowing smile. “And if you ever did want to move back in, you wouldn’t have to beg.”
But despite the warmth between us, as she backs out the driveway with a stoic expression, I can’t shake the feeling something still isn’t right.